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yoiisa · 3 days ago

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HEEELLAURRR

can I request headcanon bllk boys anyone of your choice including sae 🙏🏻 with wifey reader during post pantrum depression since no one writes about it 😔 and it’s the boys just helping her out here and there??

ofc!!, I’ll do sae, bachira, isagi, and kunigami

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: TW for depression, anxiety, self-loathing language, and feelings of inadequacy. Reader is struggling w depression in this fic, so proceed with caution for sure! major angst (argument between couple in Isagi's) with tiny doses of fluff throughout, hurt with only a tiny bit of comfort (except for kuni and maybe isagi)

if you ever find yourself struggling with ppd please call 1-800-944-4773 or visit postpartum.net i have so much respect for mothers out there, but please remember that the best mothers take care of themselves as well as their babies!! you got this babe, and with that let's get on to the fic

➜ at first, having a baby with sae itoshi was fine. everything was going smoothly- well, as smoothly as having a newborn could ➜ still, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that festered in you. it was dark and cold and rose like bile in your throat that you had to swallow down ➜ the monotony of every day settling in on you was only feeding the dread inside of you. waking at the ass crack of dawn for a diaper change or to feed, and then running around all day caring for your daughter's every whim and desire ➜ sae helped where he could, but obviously there were some tasks only you could accomplish, and it was driving you to a brink ➜ eventually, he had to leave to go to Spain for some work, and you swore up and down that you could handle him being gone for a couple weeks. he was reluctant to leave you alone, but duty called after all, so he left ➜ and suddenly, that darkness consumed all of you and it was too much. you just . . . snapped

Sae knew leaving you alone was a bad idea. He'd seen the ways you'd been tiring yourself out, running after Yuki, and without him around, he worried seriously for your health. Nonetheless, you'd insisted that he go to Spain for his work, instead of just trying to handle it all from Japan itself. "I'll be fine, you don't need to worry," you insist, you're head on his chest. "She's been at home for 4 months now, I've gotten our routine down to a science by now." Sae played with your hair, twirling the locks around his fingers as he hummed, "Okay. I'll go then." As he was leaving, he made sure you promised him that if anything happened, anything at all, that you would immediately call him and tell him. You'd just waved him off, which did absolutely nothing to quell the dread in his stomach about leaving. He knows you don't notice how attentive he really is to you, but he notices everything about you. He worships the smallest details that make you who you are, that make you his wife. With that in mind, it's so incredibly frustrating when you think he doesn't notice how your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore, or how your skin has become dry because you haven't been drinking enough water. It's 2:41 A.M. when he gets the call. It's been a week since he'd left for Spain. He peels his mask off and blinks blearily at his phone, which vibrates along his hotel's night stand. It should be around 9 where you are right now, which is pretty early for you to be calling him . . . unless something happened. Sae instantly sits up alert, his heart racing as he answers and puts his phone to his ear, "Hello? Y/N, what's wrong?" You're silent for a moment, which allows him to hear Yuki screaming her lungs out in the background of the call. Finally, you croak, "Help. Please, she won't stop crying. She's been up since 1 in the morning, and I . . . I don't know what to do." Sae's breath hitches. "I'm coming home." He can tell the guilt is eating you alive as you whisper his name, but he doesn't care. He cuts off any protests you might have with a, "My girls need me. I'm coming home. I'll get on the next available flight. I'll see you soon. I love you." His heart shatters as you don't return the affection, instead just sobbing into the microphone, "I'm sorry."

➜ part of the reason bachira meguru fell for you was because of your smile ➜ you exuded happiness and joy with every step you took and he was drawn to that aura like a moth to a flame ➜ but after having your baby, bachira noticed that the glow you had once was drained from you like a sponge. you traded in your glowing eyes for dark circles and your frown seemed perpetual ➜ worse yet, he noticed how rarely you smiled at your son ➜ at the beginning, when things weren't as bad, you would offer up the occasionally tiny smile, but you'd become so distant from the boy as of late. you'd become distant from him as well ➜ and he hates it. he did what he could to try and pull you back to his side, to get him to tell him what's wrong, but nothing was working, and it was starting to make him feel in over his head as well ➜ he cracks eventually and calls his mom, completely lost on how to help you navigate your depression

It all happens in a blur. One minute, Bachira is walking into your son's nursery to put some laundry away and the next minute, his entire world tilts as you whisper, "I don't love him." You're standing over Kaede's crib, just staring down at the little swaddled thing. Your husband is at your side in an instant, his hands squeezing your arms as he's begging for an explanation. You practically fall into his chest, your legs weak as you fall to the floor. You're not crying or anything, it's like your body's too weak for even that. All you can manage is the quietest, "I don't . . . feel how I'm supposed to when I look at him. I don't know what's happening." Bachira and you stay curled up together on the floor for a while, until Kaede starts crying. You tense in his arms as the shrill sound pierces your ears. Bachira shoots up from the floor and tends to your son, leaving you lying there as helplessness washes over him. Once you've gone to bed later that night, he instantly is on the phone with his mom. "I don't know, is something wrong with her? Should I be scared for Kaede? I don't want him to get hurt," Bachira sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I don't think Y/N will hurt him," Yu sighs on the other end of the line. "She's probably just overwhelmed right now. A lot of women go through this when they first have their kids. We get told a lot that motherhood is this wonderful thing, but a lot of times, the amount of work it takes is exhausting and is completely glossed over. The stress of it all can cause new moms to get really bad depression. It can make you want to give up on everything sometimes." Bachira bites at the skin around his nails before asking meekly, "Did you want to give up on me?" "No," Yu replies fondly, recalling the days of Bachira's infancy. "Believe it or not, you weren't a fussy baby at all. It made being a single mother easier at first, but when you got older, well, you know." Bachira nods as Yu continues, "Why don't I come over for the next week or so? I can help Y/N take care of Kaede, and the two of you can also get some alone time, if I take Kaede off your hands for a while." "Seriously? You don't mind?" Yu shakes her head, her smile widening. "It'd be my pleasure. I'll also talk with Y/N as well. Hopefully she'll feel a bit better. I knew someone who had post partum depression . . . I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

➜ isagi yoichi hates feeling powerless more than anything in the world ➜ it's part of the reason he was able to adapt so well in the world of soccer after all. he encounters all kinds of players on the field, and he needs to be flexible with himself in order to make sure he doesn't sink underneath all the talent ➜ but babies are different. they don't operate on logic or patterns or anything like that. they feel everything in excruciating levels and the same can be said for depression ➜ when isagi notices that something's up with you too, in addition to the learning curve of having a newborn son around, he also gets thrown in way in over his head ➜ the two of you begin to have arguments a lot as a result. he is upset because the entire pregnancy, you'd been raving about how you couldn't wait to have a kid, and now? now all of that was gone ➜ after a particularly explosive fight, he finally sees the pain you're going through as well, best believe he'll do whatever he can to make sure you get the help you need ➜ after all, he can't do this by himself

"Yoichi please-" "I just don't understand," Isagi groans, kneeling in front of you. His hands are on your knees and his face is bowed. "I . . . I thought we agreed that this is what we wanted? Why are you backing out now that Ryuji's already here?!" "Who said I was backing out?" you ask incredulously. "Haven't I been doing everything I can? I've been feeding him, changing him, comforting him when he cries. I haven't showered in a week for fucks sake!" "And you look a million miles away throughout it all! You have this face- this horrible distant expression! I just don't understand, didn't you want this?" You slip up and shout, "Who would want this?!" and Isagi flinches back. The two of you stare at one another in horror, before your husband's face contorts to something between grief and anger. "The hell does that mean?" he growls and you lose it. You start bawling and screaming, "Who wants a life confined to just this?! To sore breasts and shit stains and hair pulling and the crying- he won't stop fucking crying! I can't make him stop, you can't make him stop! I don't know what to do!" You fall onto the floor, your hands stabilizing yourself on Isagi's shoulders as you continue to wail. "I want to be there with him! I want to hold my son and be happy to be a mother, but I just can't. Everything feels so big when I hold him, and I feel so small. I hate myself for it! I see other mother's and feel horrible, like why can't I just be them?! It . . . I hate myself so much. I'm horrible. I'm so horrible." Isagi's heart shatters as you cry and he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. You tuck your face into his neck and inhale, breathing him in in a way you haven't done since long before Ryuji was born. You stay like that for a while before you croak, "You need to leave me." "What?" Isagi blanches. "I'm not cut out for this whole motherhood thing. I'm so scared one day, I'll do something terrible to Ryu. Something that'll hurt him. I'm not safe to be around. You need to leave me." Isagi stills, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Finally he manages, "I'm taking you to a doctor tomorrow. A psychiatrist at the hospital hopefully. Ryuji will go to my parent's house for a while until we can figure out what to do next." Before you can protest anything, he kisses your forehead. "And that step will not be to leave you. Not in a million years, so you can just forget about that."

➜ kunigami rensuke would quite frankly be the best person at helping you deal with your depression ➜ he knows the intensity of depression, and what it can do to people, especially when they are feeling isolated and alone. he did go through the wild card program after all ➜ he thinks back to how he was during his wild card training and the nel, and to know you're experiencing that kinda intense depression right now pains him beyond the telling ➜ ultimately, he just stays by your side no matter what. if you need space from your daughter, he's quick to help you get some quiet. if you need a shoulder to cry on, he'll hold you for as long as he can, letting your tears soak his shirt without a word of complaint ➜ after all, you've given him the gift of your daughter, so the least he can do is take care of her mother, and his wife, as well

You're sitting up in bed, your eyes closed and a cup of tea in your hands. It's only half drunk and starting to cool, but the cup is still warm enough to keep your hands from freezing, so you hold tight. Eventually, Kunigami steps into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face as he sees you. He walks up to you and sits beside you, his head resting on your lap. "Is Sakura asleep?" You ask, petting his orange hair. He hums in confirmation and peeks up at you through his lashes. You take note of the dark circles under his eyes and you look away, guilt eating at you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, and he tilts his head. "For what?" You purse your lips before sighing. You set the tea off to the side and close your eyes. "For making you do all the work. I wish I . . . I was a better mom and wife." He shoots up, immediately his hands going to your cheeks, brushing away imaginary tears. "Hey, hey none of that. You're an excellent mother, and a wonderful wife. Why on earth would you think otherwise?" "Because you've taken all the hard jobs like putting her to sleep and changing her-" "Because you've already done more than enough for her and for me. You keep her alive- hell you gave her life- and you continue to do other things around the house, like cooking amazing food for me. I couldn't ask for anything more, truly." You lean into his hands. A tear leaks from your eyes as you ask, "Really, Ren?" Kunigami nods and presses his forehead against yours. "Just keep doing what you're doing. If I need help, I'll ask, and if you need help, ask. I don't ever want you to feel like you're not doing enough or that you're alone. You're not, you never will be, not while I'm here." You sob, and he kisses you through it, his lips soft against yours. For the first time in months, you feel like you can properly relax.

a/n: this is prob gonna get a tad bit personal, but i just wanna reiterate how much love and respect I hold for mothers out there. all of the women in my fam have problems with their reproductive health, and it's likely that I will too when I'm older. Despite this, they've never been anything but incredibly mothers and role models and I love my mom, my aunts, and my grandma dearly

i also want to be a mom when I'm older and I encourage everyone who also wants this to do some serious research into what pregnancy/motherhood entails. it's rough out here for us girls and no one is gonna support us the way we will ourselves, and part of that means being educated on our bodies, despite the lack of proper research done with them a lot of times

anyways, rant over. love y'all and stay safe to all the mamas out there!

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hey-itsdollie · 3 days ago

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HI POUUUKIIIEEEEEEEE :DDDD

I kinda had a small req (if you have the time to then do it if not then skip this ദ്ദി(˵•̀ ᴗ -˵))

So I was kinda thinking like if sae and Kaiser (separately or do only one of them if that's easier for you) had an s/o with a little brother who was kinda annoying but like also really cute (bonus points if he's a fan of them bc like football) and like they met him for the first time and just like—shvghhdfghssfh

(I'm telling you this would be the perfect chance to slip in itoshi brother angst I swear) basically just how they would interact with readers little brother (and whose side would they be on if said little brother keeps annoying reader)

Don't listen to anything he tells you.

HAIIII, I love this idea hdjsjfbchf

Sae and Kaiser meeting their s/o's little brother for the first time.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, slight angst, female reader, pet names (liebling)

── .✦ Sae Itoshi

"Please B/n (brother's name) behave when he gets here." You plead as you stand in front of him. Effectively being the way of the soccer match he was watching.

"Okay! Okay! Can you please move out of the way now?"

You sighed moving away and checking over the house once more to make sure it wasn't messy. Then right on cue the doorbell rung, "B/n can you get that?" You called wiping off the kitchen counter once more before going back into the living room.

Everything was too quiet making you confused as you saw your brother just staring up at your boyfriend speechless.

"Uh hi..." Sae greeted awkwardly. B/n just stared making you groan coming up from behind him placing your hand on his head. "What's with you don't be rude B/n. Sorry Sae he normally isn't like this." You frown hugging the dark-haired male.

"It's fine." Sae replied wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Sae? Like Sae Itoshi? The Sae Itoshi?" Your boyfriend finally spoke, putting emphasis on his words. You looked at him weirdly. "Sis you're dating The Sae Itoshi?!?"

"Uh yeah?" You replied not knowing how to respond considering you know who your boyfriend is.

Your brother then ran off, you could only guess to his room. You sweat dropped then welcomed Sae inside. The two of you sat on the couch as you grabbed the controller. "Do you wanna watch anything?"

Sae shook his head as his put his arm around your shoulder. "No, I'm good for right now." He replied nonchalantly taking your hand with his free hand, sliding his fingers over your palm before clasping his fingers around yours.

"So much for awkward introductions huh?" You hummed with a small chuckle, Sae's lips curved up as he nodded and leaned in placing a few slow deliberate kisses onto your lips.

You two suddenly broke apart as your little brother rushed in front of you; a jersey in his hand and a soccer ball. "Nii-chan!!"

Your eyes widen as your brother addressed Sae so comfortably. Sae gazed at B/n, the boy reminding him of his own younger brother. His heart twisting slightly.

"What's up?" he hummed cooly. "Can you sign my jersey?" Your mouth fell open in shock, "B/n!"

"What? You have to share him now!" Your brother stated with a pout and sticking his tongue out at you. You glared at him about to say something to him but Sae cut in, "How about I get you a new one with a signature?"

B/n's eyes were blew wide practically sparkling. "Really?" Your eyes softened at the sight of your boyfriend and little brother. Sae had told you about the tension between him and his little brother Rin.

In his defense he didn't even know why his young brother seemingly hated him until recent. You knew this had to be some what healing for him. "Nii-chan, can you play soccer with me?!"

You jumped back into the present scoffing, "No way B/n, Sae is here to see me!" Your brother crossed his arms. "Don't care, he's my nii-chan now so he has to hang with me! Why would he want to spend time with a smelly girl anyways?"

You stood up arguing with your little brother fully heated as Sae sat on the couch watching in amusement at the sight.

"How about we all go play together?"

"Are you siding with him?" You whined quickly turning to your boyfriend.

"Uhm... no..." Sae looked away cooly as your brother ran and jumped onto Sae. "Yay! Nii-chan likes me more!"

"No, he does not!"

── .✦ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser was laying on your stomach as the two of you decided to stay inside and have a lazy day.

You two were home alone for most of the day since your parents were normally at work till late, and your little brother was as school. Well, you thought he was still at school.

"So, will I be able to meet him, Liebling?" You sigh knowing Kaiser has been wanting to meet your little sibling ever since you guys had started dating. "I don't know Micha, you might be gone by the time he comes back-"

"Nii-san!"

You laugh softly as your sibling runs into your room, freezing at the sight of your boyfriend.

"Michael Kaiser?!" Your sibling yelled in surprise, both Kaiser and you flinch from the sudden yell. "Uh yeah, hey kid..."

Kaiser glanced at you suddenly not sure on what he should do as you just laughed at the scene. After taking notice of his hesitance, you sat up your nails still combing through Kaiser's hair.

"B/n, this is my boyfriend, remember I've been telling you about him?" You introduce since he already took sudden notice that his sister's boyfriend was in fact a famous football player.

"My sister used to take my posters of you so she could have them."

You froze, face reddening ten-fold as your brother spouted nonsense "What I did not!"

Kaiser looked at you his eyebrow raised as he put on his signature smirk, "Oh, you don't have to lie Liebling~" He cooed you slapped his head lightly, "Oh my- shut up Kaiser."

"Yikes using my last name? Did y' lose your love for me that fast?"

You opened your mouth to reply but B/n beat you to it, whilst making a disgusted face and crossing his arms over his chest he gave you a strange look. "Ew, my sister is gross Kaiser! She always whines and sucks at football!"

"I do not whine!" You argue back with an embarrassed frown; you weren't even trying to deny the football thing... You do suck- Kaiser knows that already too. (sorry if you're good at football...)

The blonde looked at your brother than back at you with a pointed look. "You do whine..."

You glare and push Kaiser off of you. Chuckling the male got up and picked your brother up, lifting him off the ground. "We're going to be best buds!" Kaiser stated with a large grin, his accent lifting through his words.

You smiled at the sight, knowing Kaiser has gotten softer since you first met him.

"Are you my nii-chan now?" B/n questioned with bright eyes, the idea of having bragging rights about a famous football player being his brother was huge! Kaiser froze slightly not expecting this question before nodding.

"Technically yeah, only if you give me your blessing to marry your sister hm?"

You blush from his words, "Michael!"

"Oh, so we're back on first name basis hm? Knew you still loved me Liebling~"

Ahhh this was so cute to write, sorry if they were ooc...

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

#bllk x female reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x female reader #dollie's diary #bllk #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader #sae imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser Michael x reader #kaiser imagines

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milatiny-xx · 2 days ago

Text

moonshine | j.wy

⊹₊⟡⋆ Westeez Series | Part 1 of 8 ⊹₊⟡⋆

pairing: ranch hand!wooyoung x fem!reader summary: He's good with words and even better with his hands. tags: cowboy/wild west AU, widow!reader, alcohol, NSFW/18+/MDNI (oral—f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, oral fixation, P in V unprotected sex—WRAP IT FRIENDS!!!) wc: 9.1k a/n: it's heeere!! this took me AGES and turned out wayyy longer than i expected lol but i'm so excited to finally be posting this!!! jung wooyoung the things YOU DOOOO

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

PROLOGUE

“I don’t know how I’m gonna get it all done,” you sigh, your finger anxiously tracing the rim of your glass. “There ain’t enough hours in the day to do everything I need to keep the ranch going and look after the house and take care of all the finances and…”

You groan, running your hand over your face.

“It’s still only been ten months since he passed, darlin',” Ed’s smooth, low voice is a comfort. He rests his calloused hand on top of yours. “Give yourself a little grace. I’m sure Billy wouldn’t wantcha runnin' yourself ragged like this.”

A pang shocks through your chest at the mention of your late husband’s name. Ten months…you can’t believe it’s been that long. It feels like an eternity and the blink of an eye at the same time. You should have prepared more. You had plenty of time. Billy fought tuberculosis for four years before he succumbed to the disease.

But the truth is that you weren’t ready for him to go. You certainly weren’t ready to handle all of the work he left behind.

“I know, Ed,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Ed Milton, one of the kindest and warmest men you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, is a friend of Billy’s father. He was close with your husband. He looked after the both of you like you were his own children. His wife, Lily, has brought you stew and cornbread more times than you can count since Billy’s death.

“You thought about hirin' some help?” Ed asks.

You perk up a tad, a faint glimmer of hope glinting in the distance.

“Well…no, actually. I guess I been too busy sortin' out all the paperwork. I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“I think you should hire a ranch hand. Somebody who can look after all the farm work so you have more time to deal with the business side of things.”

You nod, considering his suggestion. Although the idea has you practically salivating at the thought of a full night’s rest, your mind is quickly clouded with questions and worries.

“It sounds wonderful, but I wouldn’t know where to start with all that. I mean, where do you get one? How much do you pay ‘em? How do I know I can trust him if I do hire him?”

“Alright, okay,” Ed holds up a hand, telling you to rein yourself in. “I know the ranch is everything you have, and you don’t wanna rush into anything. Since you’re spread too thin as it is, why don’t I ask around and see if I can’t find a suitable one.”

“Ed, I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Nonsense. You’re like a daughter to me, Y/N. This is the least I can do. Please, let me help.”

You hesitate, guilt swimming through your blood like a snake in water. Ed’s eyes are glassy, eyebrows furrowed, deep wrinkles spreading across his forehead. With a heavy sigh, you nod.

“Alright.”

PART ONE

You’re sitting at the writing desk in the parlor, working and reworking math equations to balance the books for the ranch. A sharp knock on the front door startles you. You glance up at the grandfather clock in the corner. Nine o’clock. Right on time.

You stand, flattening the pleats of your skirt and tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear, before making your way to the door. You swing it open, and your breath is knocked from your chest.

The man who stands on the other side is not at all what you had been expecting. Ed wrote you last week to tell you that he’d found a ranch hand who came highly recommended. He sorted the details out on your behalf and set today’s date as the ranch hand’s first day of employment. You expected to see an older, grizzly, possibly greying man with a God-awful handlebar mustache or mutton chops or something.

But who you’re looking at is nothing of the sort.

This man is medium-height with a solid build, his broad shoulders clearly visible even underneath his button-down shirt. His face is young and smooth, no sign of a handlebar mustache to be seen. His plump lips are turned up into a polite smile. Your gaze traces up his nose, a straight, slender bridge with a gentle curve at the tip. His eyes are dark but soft, trained on you and set underneath a mop of raven black hair.

He’s young, fit, and very handsome.

“Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds,” he says, tipping his hat respectfully.

“H-hello,” you stutter.

He stares at you, dark eyes friendly and focused. You know you should speak—welcome him to the house, thank him for taking the offer, anything—but you can’t move your mouth. He clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m Jung Wooyoung,” he continues. In response to your continued stunned silence, he adds, “Your ranch hand.”

“Oh!” you reply, finally managing to snap yourself back to reality. “Y-yes, of course! I’m sorry. Too much on my brain, I guess.”

You laugh nervously, brushing your hand across your hairline. He smiles politely, dimples forming on either side of his mouth. “That’s quite alright, ma’am.”

“Oh, please, call me Y/N. I-if you’d like. I…” you laugh nervously again. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never done this before. It’s always just been me and my husb—well it was me and Billy…uh before he—er, d-died. Anyway, this is brand new to me, and I’m not really sure how it all works just yet.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and breathy. His head dips so that he’s glancing up at you from beneath the brim of his beige cowboy hat. His lips are curved in a crooked smile, dimples still showing.

While you try to control your breathing, your eyes drop down to the small suitcase propped against his leg. You gasp.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Again. Let me show you to the bunkhouse, where you’ll be stayin'.”

You cringe and curse at yourself as you step onto the porch. You scold yourself sternly inside your head as you lead him across the dirt path from the main house to the bunkhouse. Opening the door, he steps inside. His head swivels as he takes in the small space. The wooden floor and walls creak and groan under your weight and the small window is crooked on one side. The only items inside the house are a metal-framed bed with a quilt, a small table with a pitcher and a basin for water, an old rocking chair, and a wooden stove for a fire.

“It ain't much,” you say, “but if there’s anything I can get you to make it more comfortable, please let me know. The outhouse is just out that back door there.”

He gently puts his case down beside the table and sits on the bed. He offers another tight-lipped smile.

“It’s great. Thank you, ma’am.”

You nod, returning his grin.

“I-I can leave you for a little while to unpack your things, if you’d like.”

“No, that’s alright. I can unpack later tonight. If you wouldn’t mind just showing me to the barn and letting me know what you’d like me to get started on, I can go ahead and get to work.”

“Oh…of course. Follow me.”

You scold yourself again, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. He must think you’re the dumbest woman alive.

You fidget with a loose thread on your bodice as you lead him out of the bunkhouse and to the small barn across the way. You reach for the latch to the door, yanking it to the side. It sticks for a moment, like it always does, but with one additional tug it slides free. You stumble slightly, slamming your hand ungracefully onto the wooden wall to stabilize yourself. You feel heat spreading across your cheeks and ears as you sheepishly look up at him.

“Bolt's a little rusted out,” you try to explain. “It sticks a little. You gotta yank it pretty good. Uh...this is the barn. It’s small and…well, it’s a mess, but this is it.”

You glance around, placing your hands on your hips. He steps inside, taking inventory of everything there. Half-picked over hay bales lay haphazardly around, various tools are strewn all over, feed is scattered across the dirt floor. You’re suddenly extremely embarrassed. You should have found time to tidy up.

“Mr. Milton said you needed help looking after the animals. What can I do?”

“Chicken coop’s out back,” you gesture to the other side of the barn. “Pigs are out there, too. Horses and cattle are normally out in the field in front of the main house. We only move ‘em in here if bad weather rolls through. Most of the animals take care of themselves. Just make sure they’re fed once or twice a day and that water troughs are full. Horses are groomed, stalls are mucked. Don’t worry about the eggs, I can take care of those myself.”

“What about repairs? Anything broken that needs fixing?”

“Oh, um, nothin' major. A few of our fences could maybe use some work, but you really don’t need to feel obligated if you don’t want to. I mostly just need help with the animals.”

He nods.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get on taking care of the animals and then, if it’s alright, I’d love to have a look around the whole property to see if anything else needs some attention. Starting with this…”

He brushes past you. Angling his head to peer underneath the bolt to the barn door, he taps it with his fingertip.

“Yeah…” he mutters. “I’ll get this fixed up today.”

“Oh…that would be wonderful. We have tools…around.”

You chuckle awkwardly. He nods, shooting you that dashingly handsome crooked smile again.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Alright, well...I’ll be in the main house. If you have any questions or need anything, just let me know.” You turn to leave, biting a way a girlish smile when something occurs to you. You glance over your shoulder, “Oh, supper will be served around six. You like beef stew?”

“Yes, ma’am. Six o’clock.”

You nod to confirm before turning away. As you walk back to the house, you feel a faint tingling sensation in your chest. You try to ignore it while you settle in to finish your work, but it nags at you like a fly all day long.

Supper is awkward, almost unbearably so.

Exhausted and distracted by today’s unexpected turn of events, you slightly burn the potatoes in the stew. Ears fire red from the combination of the oven’s heat and embarrassment, you slide the overcooked meal in front of Wooyoung at 6:30 instead of six.

You apologize profusely, but, to his credit, he genuinely doesn’t seem to mind. He eats up every last drop of the stew, compliments your cooking, and then excuses himself to get back to work. You eat in relative silence, aside from whatever polite small talk you could muster.

As you scrub the dishes clean, you glance up at the framed photograph of Billy that you keep in the kitchen. Sadness ricochets through your body. You smile weakly.

“I’m a mess, huh?” you mumble to the photo.

That night, you toss and turn in bed. You finally will yourself to sleep, vowing to be more composed in front of your new employee tomorrow.

PART TWO

Within a month’s time, you’ve settled into a rhythm. Each morning, you wake at six a.m., two hours later than you used to. You stoke the fireplace and heat water for coffee. After dressing, you head out to the coop to gather the eggs and milk the cow. Then, you make breakfast.

Wooyoung comes to the house around seven to eat with you. Your morning meals together are usually quiet, but you’ve grown rather comfortable in the silence. He eats quickly and then heads out to work.

Then begins the fun: chores. With Wooyoung taking care of the animals, you have much more time to upkeep the inside of the house. You wash dishes, do laundry, dust and sweep, mend clothes, tend to the garden, and any other household chores. Wooyoung usually skips lunch, just taking some dried jerky and a biscuit along with him to the field. Normally, you eat a small meal alone.

You spend the afternoon hours working on business matters—tracking expenses and earnings, writing letters to cattle salesmen, preparing orders for supplies. The work itself is mind-numbingly boring. But it’s your favorite time of the day. Because you can see him.

You sit by the window in the parlor, having discovered that it’s the perfect seat from which to watch your handsome ranch hand work.

At first, you just found it interesting to observe him. You felt like you were learning while you watched him mend broken fences and chop firewood. You admired the softness of his hands while he inspected the cattle and horses. His expertise was inspiring.

Each evening, Wooyoung comes to the house for supper. Each and every day, no matter how badly you may have butchered the meal, he devours it like it’s his first time tasting food. Like a true gentleman, he always washes his hands and face and removes his hat and dirty boots before coming inside for supper.

After supper, he usually goes back to work. But, sometimes, if he has things to tend to inside the house, he sits with you for a while as you sew. He complimented your needlepoint once.

You were so flattered that you’d started working on a gift for him. A few weeks ago, you’d been hard at work planting bluebells in front of the main house. When Wooyoung came in for dinner, he said how much he liked them, talked about how beautiful they were. You’d decided to make him something special as a thank you.

He’s settled in nicely, clearly comfortable here at your ranch. The first couple of weeks, he’s quiet and polite. He always calls you ma’am and tips his hat and does his work without complaint. It’s easy—to talk to him, to joke with him, to be with him. He has been nothing but professional.

So, when you absentmindedly glance out the window one day to see him working in the field, completely bare from the waist up, your heart jumps into your throat. You do a double take. Your fingers instinctively crumple into the piece of paper under your hand.

The hot July sun beats down on him, the golden afternoon rays illuminating the streaks of sweat across his back. You gulp as your eyes rake over him. His muscles shift and tense as he hammers a nail into the fence. One small jagged scar cuts across his otherwise smooth skin, making you wince as you imagine what could have caused it. Two black lines adorn the middle of his back, just under his neck. Tattooed words, too far for you to read.

He turns, lifting an arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Your eyes widen as they trail down his torso. His stomach is ribbed in muscle all the way down to where his trousers hang low on his hips. You force your gaze back up before it can dip any lower.

But looking at his face might be even worse. Strands of his long raven hair are stuck to his sweaty forehead. Beads of sweat drip down his jaw. His plump lips are parted, chin angled upward as he heaves deep breaths.

You raise a hand, placing it on the side of your head to block your peripheral vision. Your heart is thudding in your chest. Your stomach is churning uncomfortably. You haven’t felt this way in years. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try to calm yourself down. Instead, you’re assaulted by the image of Wooyoung burned into your memory.

You can’t focus. You can’t work.

You take your materials and move to a different room—one with no windows and no view of the field or the shirtless man toiling away in it. It doesn’t work. You grab a cup of coffee and drain it for energy. Doesn’t work. You set up a pocket watch to make yourself work for ten minutes straight. Doesn’t work.

Desperate and involuntarily horny, you resort to the only thing you can think of to relax yourself: hard liquor.

You glance up bashfully at the photo of Bill as you rummage through his old liquor cabinet and reach for the bottle of prized apple moonshine.

“Don’t judge me, Bill,” you mumble toward the photo and pour yourself a shot.

As the liquid burns down your throat, you breathe deeply. You can’t believe he’s having this effect on you. Apparently, you’ve been more touch-starved than you realized. Because of his illness, you and Billy hadn’t been able to do much. Not to mention that the TB had weakened him significantly; he was pale and almost skeletal with very little muscle mass. By the end, his back was scarred over from bed sores.

It’s been years since you’ve seen a healthy young man. An attractive, well-built young man. Cringing at yourself, you take another shot. It seems like a betrayal to Bill to feel this way. It wasn’t his fault he got sick. But seeing Wooyoung like that…raw and muscular and sexy…you need the touch of a man. And you need it now.

You down another shot. Ridiculous. You’re a grown woman and his employer. Feeling this way is wildly inappropriate. On multiple levels.

You need to get a hold of yourself.

You take another shot.

And before you know it, your head is buzzing. You haven’t had a drink since before Bill got sick. And never in your life have you ever had four shots…or five? You’ve lost track. The fact that you’re able to finish cooking dinner on time is a miracle.

As you slide the bowl in front of Wooyoung, now fully clothed, you brace yourself on the table to keep from stumbling as you sit down across from him. You handle yourself as well as you can manage and shove down food to soak up all the alcohol you impulsively drank.

Conversation flows freely between you. He teases, you giggle, he compliments your cooking, you flush. As he inhales his last bite, you study him. His hair is brushed back, resting handsomely against his cheeks. He looks calm, peaceful, and happy. He looks up, his eyes locking with yours.

“Ma’am?”

“Hmmm?” you hum, distracted.

“I got something on my face?”

“No.”

“You’re staring at me, Mrs. Reynolds. And smiling.”

You’re suddenly aware of the stupid grin on your face—you hadn’t even realized you were doing it. You drop your gaze.

“Just…glad to have someone enjoy my cookin'. Bill never seemed to like it very much.”

“Everybody’s got different taste. Maybe he didn’t like his potatoes charred.”

You giggle, shooting him a playful glare. He smiles, those damn dimples pulling at your heartstrings again.

“Ah! That reminds me," you say. "I made something for you”

His eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. You fish through a drawer in the parlor, pulling out a pair of leather gloves. You press them to your chest, excited to hand them over after all these weeks.

“I noticed that your gloves were gettin' a little worn, so I bought these at the store a while back,” you explain, laying the gloves on the table in front of him. “I remember you sayin' how much you liked the bluebells in front of the house, so I embroidered them onto the side.”

His smile drops for a moment, eyebrows furrowed while he studies the gloves. He picks them up reverently, almost as if he’s afraid to break them. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are glassy. You would almost swear you notice his eyes drop down to your lips, but chalk it up to the remnants of your earlier buzz messing with your head. Wooyoung clears his throat and stands.

“I can’t accept these,” he says, holding out the gloves for you to take.

“What? Why not?”

“I appreciate the gesture, ma’am. But these…these are much too fine for me. I couldn’t possibly take them.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. My embroidery ain't that good,” you tease, offering a smile. He chuckles, but his eyes are still tinged with concern. “I made 'em for you. Take 'em. They won’t fit me, anyway.”

He hesitates for a moment before breathing deeply and nodding. He matches your gaze.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll take good care of them.”

He bows his head and turns toward the door. Your heart sinks as you watch him slip out. Emboldened by your desperation, you bolt from your chair and call out to him.

“Wooyoung?”

He freezes, glancing over his shoulder at you nestled in the doorway. His hat is nestled in his palm, propped against his chest. The orange glow from the setting sun casts shadows across his face and halo around his body. He looks ethereal, more handsome than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Would you like to stay for a while? Have a drink and maybe some cake?”

His eyes widen. One of his eyebrows quirks up in disbelief. He opens his mouth to respond but then closes it. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your fingernails dig into the wooden frame around the door. He hardens his jaw, bowing his head respectfully.

“Thank you, ma’am. But I…still have a little bit of work to do tonight,” he replies. “The fence needs a couple more boards put up, and I-”

“Leave it,” you blurt. “Don’t…don’t worry about it tonight. It ain’t going nowhere.”

He hesitates again, dropping his gaze to his hat.

“You’ve been workin' real hard,” you say. “Harder than I expected you to. Why don’t you take tonight off. You’ve earned it.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. He nods.

Half an hour later, Wooyoung licks his fork clean, shaking his head.

“I'm not just being nice, Mrs. Reynolds, this cake is delicious,” he says.

You chuckle, waving a hand dismissively.

“It’s Bill’s mother’s recipe. I ain’t got nothin' to do with it.”

“Well, cheers,” he says, lifting the fork up to the photo of Bill.

You burst into giggles, tossing your head back. Wooyoung laughs, too. Somehow you’ve ended up on the floor in the parlor, shoes off and furniture ignored. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol. You’ve drained the rest of the moonshine along with most of a strawberry pound cake. He seems impressed by your ability to handle the liquor, jokingly saying he was going to start calling you moonshine.

You grieve for the headache you know you’ll have tomorrow. But, right now, all you can think about is him.

“Tell me, Moonshine,” he says.

You lie down on your side on the floor and prop your head up with your hand.

“Tell you what?” you ask.

“About you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Y/N Reynolds,” he leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, “Who are you? Really?"

“Well, I was born and raised here in Texas. My daddy was a farmer, and I was raised on a small farm. I loved it. I always loved bein' outside. I didn’t mind the dirty work. Shortly after I turned twenty, I met Billy. Liked him enough to settle down and get married.”

“Liked?” His eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you love him?”

You hesitate, glancing over at the photo of Bill. When you look back at Wooyoung, your face is grim.

“I don’t know. He proposed so soon, and I…suppose a part of me just wanted so badly to be married already. I was tired of playin' the game. I hardly got the chance to really know Bill. We only had two good years together. Then, he got sick. Couldn’t get better. Then, he died.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you. That pang of betrayal slams into your chest. Why aren’t you crying? Shouldn’t you feel sad? You should be thinking about Bill, but all you can focus on is the gentle way Wooyoung is looking at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly.

You shrug.

“That’s life, right.”

You clear your throat and shift, positioning yourself next to him, your backs propped up against the sofa and socked feet extended toward the roaring fireplace.

“Alright, your turn,” you say. “Tell me about you.”

“What do you wanna know?”

“Hmmm…everything. Where were you born? What were your parents like? Did you have any sisters or brothers? How’d you get here? How’d you learn how to do all this?”

His signature crooked smile and dimples return.

“I don’t know where I was born. My mother and father died when I was two, and we were raised by the man who found us, Eli Jenkins. I have two brothers, one older and one younger. They both live in Montana. They work at ranches up there. Eli had a ranch, and the three of us learned everything we know from his ranch hands. When we were old enough, we started going out on cattle drives. We’ve been all over the west. We broke our backs during the day and then slept under the stars. Dongyoung and Kyungmi, my brothers, always wanted to go up to Montana where it snows, with the mountains and all that.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nah. I don’t like the cold,” he jokes, turning his head to shoot you a smirk.

You giggle.

“Anyway, I’ve…” his smile falls, replaced by a tight line. You straighten, sitting up. “I’ve never had a real home. Never had a woman like you in my life…until now.”

Your heart flutters. A muscle feathers in his jaw. This time, despite the alcohol and everything else, you’re certain you see his eyes drop to your lips. You allow your gaze to dip, too, tracing the fluid curve of his mouth. Your eyes flutter, threatening to close. You feel the heat of his body as he leans forward. You breathe shakily, lips parting in anticipation. His nose brushes against yours, the gentle touch small but welcome. You hear him exhale sharply, and your gut pulses. You tilt your head up with every intention of pressing your lips to his, but the second your eyes close, you see Bill’s face in your mind.

Gasping, you jerk away. You place your hand on his chest to push him back. His eyes open, brows furrowing. You shake your head, avoiding his gaze.

“I-I can’t,” you mumble. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

He pulls away, setting his jaw. He avoids your eyes.

“No,” he says quietly, seriously. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was inappropriate. I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Your mouth opens, and you almost beg him to stay, but your propriety gets the best of you and nothing comes out. You watch in silence, helpless and ashamed, as he disappears out the front door and into the night.

Your heart drops. As your mouth starts to quiver, you angrily glare at the photo of Bill, visible even from where you sit in the parlor.

“Why did you do this to me?” you whisper.

You curl your knees into your chest, letting the hot stream of tears paint your cheeks.

PART THREE

He stops coming to the house. He doesn’t come for breakfast. Or lunch. He takes his dinner back to the bunkhouse with him and eats it there. The fleeting moments where you do run into each other are painfully awkward and stiff. He refuses to meet your gaze, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t joke. He’s professional to the point of being cold. You don’t even see him work out in the field anymore. He must have rearranged his schedule so that he handles the cattle and horses in the morning. It makes you wonder if he somehow knew how much you enjoyed watching him all those afternoons.

You feel miserable. The empty bottle of moonshine still sits in the kitchen underneath the photo of Billy, a haunting reminder of that night. You should have let him kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you, alcohol or not.

Despite you ruining everything, your body doesn’t seem to know the difference. You dream of him at night—sometimes it’s the memory of his glistening muscles in the sun, sometimes it’s his smile. Sometimes you wake up in a cold sweat. Others, you wake up burning hot, slick dripping down the inside of your thighs. You wipe it away. If someone’s going to finish you, you want it to be him and not your right hand.

You’re going on two weeks of this.

He’s done such an amazing job. He’s practically turned the ranch around. The animals are in the best shape of their lives, healthy and fed and strong. The barn is cleaner than you’ve ever seen it. The troughs are always full, stalls always mucked clean. He’s fixed the rusty bolt on the barn door, straightened framed photos inside the house that you’re too short to reach, repaired equipment, painted walls. He’s done everything you could have asked for and more. You can’t fire him.

But how much longer can you stand living like this? The agony of having him so close without being able to have him in the way you want, the way you crave?

The weather mirrors your mood today. Thick, dark clouds hover overhead. Rain drizzles onto the dirt and grass. A cold chill is in the air. You’re inside, sitting by the window in the parlor as usual. Thunder cracks in the distance as the rain begins to pick up.

You sigh heavily, gazing through the window just as you’ve done a thousand times. No Wooyoung. He’d gone into town this morning on a supply run, mentioning something about needing more nails to patch up the last bit of the broken fence.

You stare blankly across the sheets of pouring rain. Just as you’re about to look away, something catches your attention in the distance. You narrow your eyes to focus on it.

You gasp as you realize what you’re looking at. Your instincts kick in before you think twice. You shove your feet into the pair of rain boots you keep next to the door and dash outside. The dirt turns to mud under your feet as you rush to fling open the gate to the cow pen.

Somehow, one of the milk cows has escaped through the far side of the fence, right past the weak section that Wooyoung is in the middle of repairing. She’s wandering away from the house, her frantic moos almost drowned out by the downpour and the thunder.

“Bessie!” you shout.

You carefully step over the cracked pieces of wood and circle around to Bessie’s front. You curse as you realize that, in your haste to get to the cow, you forgot to bring rope. Lightning cracks, hitting a tree not too far away. Your heart jumps, panic striking through you. You nestle your shoulder against hers, pushing with all your weight. Bessie moos but begins to stumble in the direction you’re shoving her.

You pant as you throw your weight into each push, your boots slipping on the mud. Thunder cracks again, the lightning illuminating the darkened sky. You squeeze your eyes shut, fully concentrated on pushing Bessie toward the barn.

“Y/N!!” Your eyes flash open at the familiar voice. Wooyoung is sprinting toward you, unhitching the rope from his belt. “How the fuck did she get out here?!”

“I don’t know!” you yell back. “I looked out the window, and there she was!”

He moves to wrap the rope around Bessie’s neck, but you shove her away at the last second. You’re filled with sudden and inexplicable anger.

“I don’t need your help!” you shout.

“I’m not helping you!” he yells back. “I’m doing my job!”

You have no comeback for that.

He steps closer, leaning over you to secure the rope around Bessie’s neck. Your breath catches. Raindrops drip off the brim of his hat, landing on your nose. He clicks his tongue as he takes Bessie, tugging her back over the broken wooden shards, carefully watching her hooves. You watch in awe as he pulls her with ease. He tugs her across the pasture, you following at their heels like a helpless child. Wooyoung ushers Bessie into the barn like it's nothing.

He slams and locks the door behind him. You’re standing outside the barn, shoulders turned in as the rain drenches through your clothes. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the bunkhouse. You stumble along, unsure why you’re letting him take you there when the main house is equally far away. But you let him. You snap out of your daze as soon as you’re safely inside. You whirl on him, but he initiates first.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouts.

“What?!”

“Why the hell would you run out into this weather like that?”

“You weren’t here! Bessie was in trouble! I had to do something!”

“No, you didn’t. You should have waited for me to get back. I would’ve handled it like I just did.”

“It’s my cow! My ranch! My problem!” you hiss through gritted teeth.

He matches your energy, clenching his jaw and glaring down at you. He reaches for the laces to your bodice, and you swat his hand away.

“How dare you!” you gasp.

“We have to get these clothes off you, or you’re gonna get sick! Your life is not worth one fucking cow!”

You open your mouth, about to yell back when you suddenly notice the state of the bunkhouse. Your anger melts. The walls have been painted, a soft eggshell white. The floor is swept cleanly, the bed pushed against the wall, the broken table leg fixed. A small red cotton pillow is perched on the rocking chair. The bed is made neatly, the quilt folded at the end. His clothes and shoes are also stacked neatly in the corner. A small lamp glows faintly on the nightstand, next to a blue ribbon and the gloves you’d gifted him.

“Oh…you…you fixed it up so nice,” you mumble. “How did you do all this?”

“I…er…this is how I spend my days off. I hope…is this okay?”

You look over at him, nodding profusely.

“Of course. It’s…wonderful. You’re wonderful,” you whisper the last part to yourself, hoping he can’t hear you.

You walk toward the nightstand, touching the gloves gently. You smile.

“You kept 'em.”

“Of course I did,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“I never saw you wear them. I...didn’t think you liked 'em.”

“Of course I like them. That’s why I don’t wear them. They’ll be destroyed. I-I want them to stay...pretty like that.”

Your gaze shifts to the ribbon and you pick it up. You raise an eyebrow as you show it to him. He stutters, cheeks flushing red.

“It must have fallen out of your hair. I found it on the floor in the kitchen. I was…I meant to give it back to you, I just…”

Your heart beats remarkably steadily considering the heat you feel. You let the ribbon slip from your fingers, crossing the small room in two steps. Your eyes never leave his, glued to his gaze like there’s a string between you. Pain is written all over his face, downturned mouth, flaring nostrils, knitted brows. You don’t hesitate, reaching up to cup his cheek. He inhales sharply.

And you pull him down to you, pressing your mouth firmly against his. He stalls for a second but then his arms wrap around you. You kiss him again. He angles his face to the side to reach you deeper. His nose presses up against yours, locking your faces together. One of his palms flattens on your lower back. The other one slides up your spine. You shudder at the sensation. His fingers snake up your neck and tangle into your dripping hair.

Your free hand reaches up to take the hat from his head, dropping it on the floor next to you. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, and you open for him. Your fingertips thread between his hair to press him closer. Your tongues slip and slide against each other, saliva mixing deliciously.

His hands slide onto your stomach, and his fingers begin to unbutton your shirt. While he works, his lips slip from yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your jaw and onto your neck. Your head lolls back, mouth open. Pants fly from your mouth each time his tongue drags up your skin. As he eases your unbuttoned shirt over your shoulders, he peppers your bare skin with soft kisses. Your stomach coils as a familiar ache builds below your hips.

He straightens, leaning his forehead against yours. Your eyes close instinctually. Your head bobs forward, breathless. But he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he anchors his knuckle under your chin and slides his thumb across your jaw.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles.

Your heart flutters. He moves to unbutton your skirt and bloomers. They pool at your feet. Before you can react, his arms wrap tightly around your waist. He picks you up and steps back once, pulling you out from your shed clothes.

Your hands slide down his chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons frantically. The image of him sweaty and bare in the field flashes through your mind. You want to see him. Now.

He pulls back, eyes black with hunger as he watches the way you rip his shirt from his chest. A gasp escapes your chest when it comes off. You greedily run your palms across his smooth chest, catching your lip in your teeth at the feeling of his muscles pulled taut. You can’t drag your eyes away from him. He smirks, a breathless chuckle spilling out.

“Like what you see, ma’am?” he says.

You open your mouth to speak but find yourself silenced. So, you just nod your head dazedly. Before you can collect yourself, his hand wraps around your wrist. He guides your touch down his abdomen. You whimper as you watch his abs contract under your fingertips. Your fingers brush over the cold metal of his belt buckle.

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze, as if asking for permission. In response, his lips capture yours again. This time, he kisses you deep and slow. You unlatch his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you work, your core begins to throb just as fast as your pounding heart.

Distracted by his mouth, you barely even notice that he’s moving you until you’re falling back gently onto the mattress. You unlace and drop your boots as he sheds his jeans and boots. You watch, enraptured as he plants himself securely between your legs on the bed. His eyes drag slowly down your form.

“This is insanely inappropriate…” he says quietly.

A flicker of concern flashes across his face. Your breath shutters. Impatiently, you grasp at his wrist. Then you pull his hand up toward your chest. He spreads his fingers in anticipation when you place his fingers at the hollow of your neck.

“I don’t give a shit,” you reply.

“But you’re my employer. What if-”

“Yes, exactly. I’m payin' you to do a job—whatever I need. And, right now, I need you. So, if I tell you to touch me, then you do it. Or I’ll fire your ass right now.”

His eyes sparkle mischievously as his touch moves shamelessly down your chest, palm ghosting over the curve of your breasts. Your chest heaves under his gaze, as if rising to meet his touch. He nods, grinning.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He leans down and presses heated kisses to your throat as his fingers work to unlatch the hooks on the front of your corset. Your back arches into him. He sucks on your skin, his spit spreading across your chest. You lean up to slide your arms out of the corset, and he takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Something in between a moan and gasp slips from your mouth. You feel his breath hot against you as he chuckles.

“You like that?” he mutters against your neck. “When I bite you there?”

You just catch your lip in your teeth. He does it again. You moan quietly, throwing your head back at the sore sensation spreading through your muscles. He removes the straps of your chemise and pulls the thin fabric down to reveal your breasts. He releases a shaky breath, both palms sliding onto the sensitive nubs. He massages your sore breasts, thumb brushing over your nipples.

He leans down to take one in his mouth, nipping at it and then swiping his tongue over the hurt. Your fingers grasp at his back and neck, fingertips digging into his skin. One of his hands wraps around the outside of your thigh. It snakes upward, pushing your chemise aside as he goes. You wriggle in his grasp, pressing your thighs against his sides.

You don’t even know what your body is doing. It’s been so long since you had this, you almost can’t remember what it felt like. Then again, it never felt quite like this will Bill.

Your hips buck up toward him, your body begging him for friction against that desperate ache between your legs. He laughs breathily against your neck but pulls back to sit up on his knees. You gasp, fingers slipping from his skin. He smirks down at you, hair tangled and wet. His eyes drop down your figure once and then he’s moving again.

You watch, frozen, as his fingertips trail back down your thigh and hook into the hem of your stockings. He pushes your leg up toward him and slides your stocking down. Then, he takes his time, pressing teasingly chaste kisses to your shin, your knee, the top of your thigh. He repeats the process on the other side.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours again, you lose your breath at the intensity of his gaze. He maintains your stare while he moves your thigh back to his mouth, only breaking eye contact when he plants an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

You can feel how swollen you are. You feel full, like you need to be emptied, and he’s the only person alive who could do it the way you need it.

He kisses you again on the other side. And then again, and again, all the while lowering himself down to be on eye-level with your aching core. He glances up at you again as he gently pushes your chemise onto your stomach, leaving your legs parted and open for him. A smirk tugs at his lips as he studies your pussy. He hums approvingly.

“There she is…” he says quietly. “All red and swollen. Perfect just like that.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, biting back a moan. Bill never talked to you like that.

Wooyoung kisses your thigh once more before sliding one fingertip down your dripping folds. A relieved groan escapes your lips. You wriggle as he strokes you again. His thumb finds your clit, and you buck toward him. You can’t see him with your eyes shut, but you can envision his satisfied smirk at having you so helpless under his touch. He drags his finger along your folds a few more times before he plunges one inside. You moan, your hands fisting the sheets.

“Damn, Moonshine,” he whines. “You’re soaked. All this for me?” You can’t respond because he inserts another finger, curving them up inside you. “You like my fingers, don’t you? When I do that? Yeah, baby, I know you do.”

He curves them again—you moan. He moves slowly, pulling them out and pushing back in rhythmically. Just as you’re about to beg for more, you feel a new sensation.

Your eyes flash open, and you look down to see his face buried between your legs. His breath is hot against your folds, but his tongue is the star of the show. He drags it along your wetness, flat and hungry, as if you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. When he slides it into you, your eyes roll back into your head. Your hands move to his hair, gripping hard. Your hips jerk with every swipe of his tongue. Increasing the stimulation, his beautiful straight nose rubs against your clit with every thrust of his tongue.

You moan between pants, muttering “right there” quietly, over and over, to tell him when he’s hitting you just right. He hums into you, the vibration making you lightheaded. You can feel yourself start to crest. Your groans fade into quiet panting, your hips lift, and your eyes squeeze shut tightly.

But he lifts his head, and you deflate. You look down and whine at the sight of him—hair mussed, lips swollen, nose all the way down to chin shiny and covered in you. He smirks for a quick moment before his hands are curving around your thighs. He pulls you down on the bed and then slides an arm behind your back, shifting you up onto his lap. Your hands snap onto his shoulders to brace yourself. You gasp as you sit on him, feeling every inch of how badly he needs you, too. At some point he had managed to slip out of his own underwear, leaving him swollen and bare underneath your thighs.

“Hi, Moonshine,” he says, as innocently as he can considering your current situation.

He reaches up, tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb. You have no idea what comes over you when you dip your head, taking it into your mouth instead. You swipe his fingertip with the pad of your tongue. His eyes widen for a moment, and he just watches. Then, he tilts his head and shifts his hand to shove his first and middle fingers into your mouth. You moan onto them, tongue tasting yourself.

“Yeah? You taste good, don’t you baby? I never tasted anything so sweet. You got me hard as a rock. You can feel it can’t you? How bad I need that sweet, sweet pussy?”

You whine when he slips his fingers out of your mouth. He guides your hips up, just far enough so that he can line himself up with your entrance. You grip his shoulders hard, hissing as he slowly helps you sink onto his cock. He groans, leaning his forehead against your chest.

“Shit, Moonshine…you’re so loose,” he whispers, voice low and rasped. He chuckles. “And so, so fucking wet. You been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Dreaming about me deep inside you like this? I bet you’ve imagined all sorts of dirty things, huh, baby?”

“Yeah,” you admit breathily, fingers tugging at his hair.

“How long? How long have you wanted me like this and not said anything? Was it that night at the main house?”

“Before…” you whisper, hips twitching on him. “Long before. That day in May when you were workin' out in the field. I watched you from the window. You were bare from the waist up, sweaty and muscled—just like this. I thought I was having a heart attack, my heart was beatin' so damn fast.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I wanted you from day one,” he says. “The first day I came to your door, the first second I laid eyes on you. I wanted you. Just like this, bare and sat on my lap, my cock buried deep inside, my name spilling from your lips.”

You nudge your nose against his, his words making your stomach churn. You shift on him again, begging him to move.

“Please…” you whine, pressing into him. “Please move.”

“Say it.”

“What? Say what?”

“My name. I wanna hear it. Tell me, baby. Whose tongue fucked you so good? Whose cock is gonna make you scream?”

You bite your lip, nudging your nose against his again.

“Wooyoung,” you whisper against his mouth. “Please, Woo.”

He finally obliges, guiding your hips as he shows you what to do, how he wants you to move on him. You settle into a slow circular rhythm—sitting down and then flicking your hips back just barely as you move up. One of his arms snakes around your waist, pressing your chest onto his. His other hand cradles the back of your head, pulling your lips down as he kisses you deeply.

Your hands interlock behind his neck to keep your body steady as he drills up into you. You whisper his name against his lips, over and over and over as he fucks up into you.

He dips his fingertips into your mouth, telling you, “Spit, Moonshine.” And then he moves his touch back to your clit, rubbing circles while you move on him. The coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. Each stroke of his fingers threatens to send you over the edge.

His thrusts grow sloppier, his breathing ragged. Your thighs are beginning to shake and burn, and you can feel yourself starting to clench.

“Woo…I can’t,” you whine against his lips.

“Then let go,” he responds, equally as breathless. “You can. Let go all over my cock, Moonshine. Coat me in you.”

Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling his face against your shoulder. He sinks his teeth into the skin as you clench around him. He holds you tightly, rocking you through each wave of your orgasm. Your brain fogs with the pleasure, taking you away from time and place. You can’t remember exactly how or when, but Woo's warmth floods into you, too. His arms warp tightly around your waist and his face nuzzles against your neck.

As you start to come back down, your legs turn into noodles. Wooyoung gently lays you back onto the mattress. He slides out and pulls up the quilt before collapsing beside you.

Neither of you speaks or moves for a few moments—you just lie together in silence. Soon, his hand finds yours underneath the quilt, fingers threading between yours.

“You did so good, baby,” he mumbles. “You took me so good.”

You roll over, resting your chin against his chest. He adjusts his head and smiles down at you.

“I’s thinkin',” you say quietly, “you did such a nice job out in the pasture and with the barn and with this place. Maybe you could work a little more on the main house, too.”

His eyebrows raise as he considers your suggestion, and then he nods.

“I suppose I could do that. It might take a while seeing as the main house is pretty big, but I could work on it here and there.”

“I’s…also thinkin' that, if you’re gonna be workin' on the main house so much, you’ll probably be spendin' a lot more time up there.” His eyebrow quirks upward, clearly unsure as to where you’re going with this. “It doesn’t seem to make much sense to have you walk back and forth every single day from this little shack to the house.”

“What are you getting at, Moonshine?”

The ghost of a smile is tugging at his lips, letting you know that he’s starting to see what you’re suggesting.

“Just seems easier if you go on ahead and move into the main house with me. Now, there is a second bedroom but it’s full of Billy’s old things. We might be able to get it cleaned up, but I suppose in the meantime we’ll just have to share my bed.”

The corner of his mouth curves up in a deep smirk.

“I suppose that sounds real nice, ma’am.”

You push yourself up, eyes studying his lips for a moment before you kiss him deeply. He holds your mouth close for a long time before releasing you. You nestle into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of leather and fresh rain that lingers on his skin. With his arm wrapped around you, he gently strokes your hair. You trace patterns on his smooth, warm chest.

“Wooyoung?”

“Mhm?”

“This can be real,” you whisper. “This place. It can be your real home.”

“It already is, Moonshine. My home is wherever you are.”

EPILOGUE

His laughter sounds from the pasture in front of the house. That sound. You love that sound. It feels like a warm burst of sunlight cutting through a long winter. Mischievous, boyish, melodic. Unmistakably his.

You can’t help but smile as you watch from the doorway. He dashes in circles as your newest foal stumbles after him. For a few moments, you don’t say anything. You just watch and try to memorize every single detail of this perfect moment.

“Wooyo!” you shout. “Come inside for supper!”

His head snaps toward you, a beautiful smile pasted across his handsome features. Still, after seven years, he manages to take your breath away. His long black hair lays in waves over his forehead. His button down is only half-buttoned with the sleeves rolled up—just the way you like it.

He saunters over, grin softening. Under the light of the setting sun, his eyes sparkle. Affection. You recognize it immediately.

“Mmm, smells good, Moonshine,” he says huskily.

You giggle when he lowers his lips down to yours. His hand is perched above your head to brace himself on the doorframe. He leans against you, pushing his body weight on top of your figure. You sigh contentedly as your mouths move together. When he pulls back, he looks at you for a moment. His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then, his head tilts suddenly, and he raises his eyebrows. You shake your head. That’s his “I’m about to do something naughty” face.

��What're yo-?”

But your question is interrupted by Wooyoung’s strong arms encircling your waist and lifting you up. You yelp as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. He starts walking inside the house. Your stomach aches as you laugh, playfully smacking his back.

“What are you doing, you idiot!” you shout, breathlessly in between giggles.

“Taking you to our bedroom.”

“But I just made dinner!”

“It ain’t going nowhere. I’m having dessert first tonight.”

He lays you down on the bed. You wrap your arms around him as he crawls on top of you. Your laughs fade to love-drunk whispers as the sun dips below the horizon on your perfect little life.

taglist: @rileylovescats @wooyoungsbrat @estrnrea

#wooyoung #jung wooyong #ateez #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #wooyoung fic #ateez fic #westeez series #fic #milatiny-xx #🌶️

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timeslipcamp · 18 hours ago

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thoughts on episode 17

i've got my coffee i'm at work i am LOCKED IN reading this. i am SO READY for this love island episode yall have no idea

liveblogging as i read it let's go!! 🌹

spoilers for episode 17

so last we left off, sinostra was declaring war on hyde for the maybe maybe not fake warding card, and romeo had just told us that we didn't hear anything before the screen faded to black. we're getting INTO IT now!!!

benkei dropping secrets immediately is so fucking funny. staff shortages and confused that elias is working. so he might not be a janitor, great! great!!

(also first thought about the anomaly involved is its gonna be a shapeshifter or doppelganger type deal, which would be SO funny. not only do we have to date these dudes but now we have to figure out which ones the real one. how funny would that BE)

the fox escaping???? oh my god so it IS smart!!

god if i don't finally get some more background info this chapter i'm gonna scream.

THE PRODUCERS PICKED THESE GHOULS???? okay that makes a little i guess, because no one in their right minds would have picked this group. i still cannot believe the fucking line up we have this is so funny. also the fact that they had to BRIBE THEM

also the way the chancellor said "can you imagine" when he was telling us how much information worldwide they could get? why haven't they already? why are you holding it over our heads? why do we have to prove ourselves to be saved? god i hate the institute.

love/hate relationship with whatever this implies. definitely doing a deep dive into that later unless someone beats me to it

this dude is killing me hahahaha LOVE these designs. i'm already having a fucking blast with this episode and i haven't even seen a single ghoul yet. this might be my new fav episode

the lil fireworks animation was actually so cute. my girl deserves an island vacation let her relax. also love the aphrodite shoutout, this game looooves their greek mythology huh

the bachelors being described as irresistible and the creme de la creme is sending me through the ROOF thinking about who the line up is. does this mean that these 6 are the hottest canonically? or just the hottest according to KP? i want jiro's reaction to being chosen SO BAD

THEY CHANGED HIS HAIR???????? oh im not surviving this chapter i cant read this at work

"No way I'm letting those other guys anywhere near her. I'm in this for real."

YEAH I BET YOU ARE RUI

jiro please 😭 "I'm a doctor by day, model by night," actually made me choke while leaving this voicemail im fucking dying I CANT DO THIS "she seemed fine" IM CRYING

HARU AS A SINGLE FATHER STOP HAHAHA

jin not saying anything and ren is such a DICK god this is the best episode i don't even care about the plot anymore this is the best episode ive ever read

BIG FAN OF ENEMIES TO LOVERS???? MC PLEASE HAHAHAHA

not the chancellor bribing them all to be here bro 😭 what did they bribe jin with 👀

ren with the ocean lovers name....a surfer....from shonan....its all coming together

dude who am i even kidding i'm gonna end up in love with rui. these antics on the show are so funny. i am OBSESSED with the interviews i think we need these on regular missions too. jiro continues to be the funniest ghoul at this school

also ed just like??? describing his current life as his ideal one?? "I suppose I'd want to build a small cottage in the woods and live there quietly with my spouse. It might be nice to have a big dog, too. A loyal and obedient one."

like ed that is quite literally where you are now

A WOMAN IN WHITE?? LA LLORONA??? oh PLEASE give me a good woman in white haunting those tales are ALWAYS heartbreaking. (for those unaware, a 'woman in white' legend are urban legends that pop up quite literally all over the world in a hundred different forms. typically they're a woman, either in a wedding dress, a white dress, or funeral dress. they're women who died of heartbreak, suicide, etc and come back because their pain keeps them here. a lot of ones involve a lover either leaving them or dying, killing their children, the themes go on, but the vibe that i'm getting based on the blood and the wedding dress from this one is that she found love on the island that turned out to be a lie and now only those who prove their love is true can leave)

it being the old producer is so fun i'm so locked in lets go

also love that ed called haru the tamer...an interesting moniker i like it

this is so interesting listening to this group talk. we've got what, four third years, a super intelligent second, and a first year? so it's a pretty seasoned group. kinda makes me think ren's gonna pull a cool move at the end and prove he can match with them. this is such a fun group i'm so excited

FINALLY a couple more bits of info about the clash!! jiro woke up right before, frostheim was sympathizers, obscuary was neutral, and mortkranken was dissidents. love jins silence after jiro mentioned yuri still hates frostheim. UGH i need the jinyuri backstory soooo bad im gonna lose my mind when it happens

haru fucking dodging around the screen is so funny. they really didnt have to have his sprite zip around from side to side but they DID and i LOVE IT paintball is so funny thank god taiga isnt here

HOW DARE YOU FUCKING INTERRUPT THAT PART

darkwick planting the kyklos??? or darkwick has a secret in on a liminal space??? HELLO ED WHERE ON EARTH oh im so mad we were interrupted

shoutout to whoever posted about kisaragi station last week that was a fun thing to notice right before this episode lol

i am actually suddenly very on board that jin is aware he is being used and that's part of why he hasn't done anything this year. that would also be a huge reason for tohma, a former vagastrom ghoul, to transfer and then start investigating. he can play the good sympathizer flipper and use his new connections to find out what darkwick is up to. did darkwick send the kyklos there? do they have a mole in kisaragi station? does haku's vaguely implied teleporting powers allow him to see into liminal spaces? ugh i need to know. cool that they're bringing up barrier stuff given that the kyklos transported us somewhere

okay what the fuck is the vessel shit. rui what do you mean this vessel isnt worth it. why does ed want you? what??? god these episode cuts are going to drive me INSANE. "saving my life force for you" ed please

ren expertly avoided being on the beach though lmao good for him

top ten moment with the crabs and dr jiro god i love him

THE BRACELET TO PROTECT HER FROM EVIL EXPLODING WHEN ED TOUCHES HER HAHAHAHA IM FUCKING LOSING IT

funniest panel yet this episode. ed in the cuck chair in hotel rooms confirmed

ooo ed lore! romania technically has a part that borders the sea, and that's where a lot of "classic" vampire tales stem from. would love if they really went the vlad the impaler route or something, but he lived in the 15th century, so slightly too long ago. or not! ed only said older than 400, so if he's off by 200 years 😂

i'm loving ren and jiro interacting dude. never in a million years would i have paired them together but now i need them hanging out 24/7

dude rui really doesn't think he's ever going to leave the school, does he? his talk with haru was brief and he didn't say much but it just felt kinda...defeated. i don't think he thinks he'll ever be cured. rui baby :(

rui listens to BALLADS he would oh my god emo boy. also jiro asking jin if he wants to play piano :((( jiro baby pleaseITS ZENJIS BIRTHDAY???? oh im gonna throw up whyyyy

its a woman scooooooorned WOMAN IN WHITE LEGEND LIVES thats fucked up though fuck that guy. you can do better maya

"rugged guys" ed is so funny dude i can't do this

dude why did they give everyone these glamor shots and then haru is over here sweating and fighting for his life--

nvm im into it

ANOTHER REN STIGMA MOMENT he can use it to boil water??? okay so we've got ink removal and boiling water....can he like alter liquids somehow? control them?

ED IS ALLERGIC TO GARLIC HAHAHAHA

wait why was rens confession so cute 😭 dude thats the first nice thing AW REN yes we can keep hanging out!!! ren stans stay winning this episode

these are all so sweet lmao i love this episode so much dude it's so good. "i guess it's over now" rui stop making me CRY! jin...i hate to say that worked. im so annoyed lmao

NOT JIN INTERRUPTING THE CHOICE HAHAHA thats soooo funny. he's so dramatic dude. he didnt want to hear who we were picking

YURI CALLING JIRO TO CHECK ON HIM and us THATS HIS MANS

ooooo okay having someone from the institute undercover on the island with us 👀 hate that actually. jin didn't seem too happy about that either. was he there to watch us or the anomaly? what did he hear?

BENKEI WAS THE OLD CLEMENTIA ADVISOR?????

oh my god okay let me get my thoughts in order

okay first of all, the protection charm from benkei and then he's from clementia is fascinating. makes sense why he and nicolas are friends now. nice that they were able to find him a job after but i STILL dont trust elias. at all lmao especially with what benny said earlier.

this anomaly got solved annoyingly quickly but i do love that jin let it drag out thats funny as hell. this was such a funny episode. got a few clash hints and a zenji mention and a small reveal at the end. lot super lore heavy but thats FINE i guess. mc still has two months, hopefully we make some headway with her next mission.

hotarubi and a festival! here we come!

#tkdb #episode summaries #tokyo debunker #tdb #episode 17

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svt-meiying · 2 days ago

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Hiii how are you?? Can you please write more hook up of meiying with scoups and Joshua please is just I need more details and drama also I'll be cool if you add the 95 line conversation that you mentioned in your other post🤭

Have a good day and also I'm a new follower and honestly your works are amazing I can't wait for what you have prepare 🩷

Hi! Unfortunately today I'm a little under the weather, but seeing you guys interact with my content with so much interest is always a huge mood-booster! I'll gladly tell you more about how they were together 🤭(hopefully that's what you meant), LITTLE SIDE NOTE BEFORE I START ; Another Anon asked the same question regarding the conversation so just know I saw your ask and appreciate you very much (it's just that that this one wanted more detail as well)!

❗This post contains suggestive themes so MDNI (18+)❗

Seungcheol ;

. . Their one night stand was the maknae's first time sleeping with anyone so it was gentle and slow, with the older man talking her through it. They started making out on the couch but when things got too heated, Seungcheol took her to his bedroom because he refused to let her first time happen in the middle of a living room.

. . There were lots of wet, messy, breathy kisses and the leader's lips practically worshipped every single inch of the young woman's warm skin. He made sure to show her everything that intimacy had to offer, from his fingers, to his tongue, to his d- *ahaem*

, , The aftercare was genuinely the sweetest ; he bathed her, dressed her in his shirt and boxers, she fell asleep in his embrace as he ran a hand through her hair and left soft kisses on her forehead, arms wrapped so tightly around her body that one could think he was attempting to protect a treasure.

Joshua ;

. . With Joshua things immediately began with him in control, which the members began noticing whenever they played games. The only thing Joshua would have to do is say something as mundane as 'sit' and the usually rebellious maknae would obey.

. . Over time things began getting slightly rougher while they explored new kinks ; impact play, bondage, sensation play, choking, etc. (though it did go back to more vanilla intimacy whilst she healed from her ACL tear).

. . Their situationship was definitely way more intense than what happened with Seungcheol, Joshua thrived on control and fake sympathy for the trembling maknae.

. . "I know, that was so mean of me~ But do you really think you deserve to finish after the way you mouthed off to me earlier?"

. . Even with that though, the aftercare is always present and thorough. They always sleep in the same bed afterwards, he gives her his own clothes despite her room being right next to his, in the morning whoever is awake first makes breakfast, and LOTS of words of reassurance.

Conversation Transcript ;

JH : 'I saw that video yesterday actually, Shua showed it to me when we were drinking in the kitchen. [pause] Speaking of that night actually...Shua, what were you doing naked on the couch with Meimei?'

[Seungcheol nearly choked on his drink as the man concerned by the question turned red almost immediately, stammering as he tried to find the words. He saw the slight edge in their leader's gaze and part of him wondered whether admitting to it was truly the best idea, especially when his fist tightened around the glass.]

J : H-How did...I mean it's not....listen-

SC : 'You're fucking Mei? He's joking right?'

JH : 'If I am then there's someone with the same blind eye as our maknae...and the same scars, and the same face...small world really.'

[Joshua's glare was almost deadly when these relaxed words left his mouth, before moving to carefully examine Seungcheol's strangely tense demeanor.]

J : 'We sleep together, so what? It's not like she's dating either of you so why do you care? Also maybe don't just walk into our apartment without knocking.'

SC : 'That girl's been with us for years, I trusted you to live with her, and now you're just casually doing this behind our backs?'

JH : 'Cheol it's not that big of a deal you're just drunk...'

SC : 'Shut up for a second. What about her knee, are you even careful about that?'

JH : 'This is going too far, listen we can talk about this in the mor-'

J : 'What does her ACL have to do with this? She's recovering just fine isn't she? What the fuck is your problem? Are you in love with her or something?'

[The leader suddenly stood from his chair only to be instantly held back by the more rational of his friends, though he did admittedly start this. Just then, the blissfully unaware maknae walked into the heavy dorm, the darkness in her blind spot not quite catching the closely diffused fight. Not questioning why the men were standing in such positions after turning around, she immediately ran over to hug the oldest, which seemed to relax the tension in his shoulders.]

SC : Hey princess, you wrapped up that photoshoot pretty quickly.

[As she rambled on about the day, Joshua saw the softness in the rapper's gaze, the light in them, and slowly realized why he had gotten so defensive...]

............

Wow you made it to the end! Thank you so, so, so much for your support, I know I say this quite a bit but I truly appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed this and that I answered your question properly🩷

#kpop addition #kpop female oc #kpop imagines #kpop oc #seventeen 14th member #seventeen female addition #seventeen imagines #seventeen x oc #seventeen #seventeen oc #askmeiying

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matt-murdockk · 5 hours ago

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Atonement

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader words: 4.2k summary: Spencer battles his addiction and self-loathing, only to find the possibility of redemption in the unwavering care of someone who refuses to leave. warnings: oh boy, ok so we've got a LOT OF ANGST!!!, Spencer's addiction (!!!), suicidal thoughts, a lot of self-loathing, Spencer is spiralling (rip), mildly descriptive withdrawal process, possibly incorrect etymology facts, a dead fish, the self-loathing really is heavy on this one, I'm serious. a/n: i am holding your hand, i scared myself with this one, BUT the ending is pretty optimistic so it's not all pain :')

Heracles atoned. His crimes were a result of madness— divine madness, not his own. It can be argued that they weren’t even his actions at all. And still, he atoned.

The Oracle of Delphi instructed him to give twelve years of service to the king of Mycenae, and even though Heracles believed Eurystheus to be beneath him in stature, he accepted the 12 labours. Heracles completed the 12 momentous tasks as atonement for the crime of killing Megara and their children, even though it was Hera's vengeance that drove him mad and tricked him into committing the crime in the first place.

If Heracles sought redemption for something that wasn’t truly his fault in the first place, what about the rest of us? What about atonement for crimes not born of divine madness, but of choice? What about the consequences that stem not from insanity inflicted by gods, but from choices made— cold, human, and deliberate? Is that something one can atone for?

Apophenia. A common human tendency to see patterns where there are none. It makes you believe in coincidences. It’s why people find meaning in lottery numbers, in shuffled tarot cards, in the sequence of a roulette wheel. It's what makes Spencer draw parallels between himself and perhaps the mightiest of Greek heroes, only he doesn't see them as equals, but one as a sorry excuse, an imitation, a failed attempt at living up to the other. He sees one as a myth, and the other as a mockery. A hollow echo. A failure.

I feel like a kid again. That's a nice thing, right? Feeling like a kid? Innocent. Loved. Nurtured. Pure. Scared. Wait, scared? Scared. Alone. Vulnerable. Guilty. Crying to sleep every night. Curled up into a ball on the playground, busted eyebrow and broken glasses with stains of blood and dried-up tears. I gotta tell Mom I need new glasses. Again.

Oh. He feels like a kid again.

Do they know? They might know. They must know. They know. He pretends they don't. They pretend they don't. Everybody knows. Was it kindness that kept them quiet? Decency? Look the other way so he wouldn't be ashamed? Not exactly helping, then. Or was it so they could have deniability? We had no idea. Spencer Reid? Our Spencer? They gasp. He wouldn't.

They've definitely noticed. That much he knows. All eyes are on him when he's in a room. Not in the usual Spencer is being his brilliant self again way. In a Spencer is a disgrace to himself, look at his pathetic face way, except no one would look him in the face anymore. Like if they looked at him, it would be painfully obvious in their faces what they really thought of him. Like there was no way to look at him the way you would look at a normal person.

Every day, he comes in to work screaming: Look at me. Do you see me? Do you see what I'm doing to myself? Do you see it? Do you see me? Look at me. Don't look at me. Stop looking at me. Stop. Don't look at me. Please. Stop. Stop. No. Stop. STOP. "Morning," is all they hear.

You look at him. Oh no. Not you. Please. You're... not disgusted? You're not looking at him as if one would an insect. Huh.

Great. You are so pathetic, you're pretending people like you. Do you realize how pathetic that is? Do you realize how pathetic you are, Spencer? You're so deep in delusion that you think someone cares. No one cares. Nobody cares.

His thoughts are loud today. Louder than usual. Not ideal. You're still looking. You're crying. You're crying?

Amazing job! You've made the one person who probably cares about you cry just by existing. Hey, do you know what you should do? Do you know what you should do, Spencer? Kill y—

"Hey, are you okay?" It's his own voice. An act of rebellion against himself. A lifeline.

"Spencer, are you?" you ask, sniffling. That's the first time someone has stopped to ask him that question. He didn't know what to say.

At the depth of my delirium, I think of you. I think we're in love. I think of being in your arms. I think of you holding my hand and telling me you love me. I think of you telling me I'll be fine. I think of you telling me I'll be okay. I'm not fine. I'm not okay. I need you. I'm sorry. Tell me you love me. I'm sorry.

He just stares. You look at him just a second longer than he wants you to, give his hand a little squeeze, and then you're gone.

See? She's gone. You know why she's gone? You know why she didn't stay, Spencer? Wait, actually, think of a reason why someone would stay. Go on, try. That'll be much harder, yeah. Pathetic.

Mirrors don't work anymore. Whenever he looked in one, he used to see himself. He just sees a silhouette now. A hollow void that only moves seconds after he does. Somebody he knows but cannot quite recognize.

You see that? Even your fucking reflection thinks you're pathetic.

They're mocking him. They are taunting him. They don't even have the decency to look back at him. Pretty shitty for a mirror, he thinks.

Hey. Idiot. Yeah, you. What are you looking at? You're feeling sorry for yourself? You're sorry, buddy? You're guilty? You wanna go back? Back to mommy? Back to before all this? Back to how it used to be? Back to... what, exactly? Back to being brilliant and broken and hiding it better? Back to when you still had the energy to fake being whole? Weak.

Spencer doesn't remember what home feels like. It used to be Vegas until he had to leave. It used to his job until he had to hide. It used to be his apartment until he couldn't trust himself to be alone anymore. Sometimes when you look at him, talk to him, touch him, he thinks this could be home. But it's never enough. The more of you he had, the more of you he wanted.

Boy, you never stood a chance, did you?

The first time, he promised himself it would be just this once. It's wrong, yes, but it's for recovery. It's just this once. He can stop whenever he wants to.

Second time, the last time. It's not like he can't stop if he wants to. He's in control. It's fine.

Third, the final time, for sure. It's only for a while. It's not permanent.

He can stop whenever he wants to. He can stop whenever he wants. He doesn't want to stop. He can't stop. The more he had, the more he wanted.

The pull, the calling, the addiction, it's far too evil. It's a siren. It's a mimic. It fools you into thinking it's taking you somewhere beautiful. Some place you need to get to. And every time, it promises you that you're getting closer. That you'll get there soon enough. Just a few more steps. Just a couple more times. Just another leap. But all it does is lie to you and make you feel like you're close. Like you're getting there. Like you will be home in no time. When in reality, you've regressed. You're worse off than you were when you started. Only then do you notice you're all alone.

What a wonderous, massive, cosmic joke. Doctor Spencer Reid. Child Prodigy. Genius. Criminal Profiler. Special Agent with the FBI. Drug Addict. Liar. A threat to himself and the people around him.

The walls are too close tonight.

Everything is itchy. His clothes. His skin. The thoughts under his skin. The thrum in his veins that won’t quiet down.

You don't know who you are when you're not in pain. That's why you keep coming back, Spencer. Not for the high. For the silence. The certainty. God, what a burden it must be. Having to pretend they're not afraid of you. Like they don't flinch whenever you open your mouth.

"Shut up. Just shut up," he yells to his empty apartment.

He rubs his face hard enough to leave marks. Paces the length of the living room five times. Seven. Twelve. He forgets what number he’s on.

He wonders, not for the first time, if this is the moment he finally fractures beyond repair. If this is where the brilliant, broken, bullet-dodging Spencer Reid finally snaps and nobody notices. Maybe they already did notice. Maybe they’re just waiting to see if he self-destructs before they have to say something.

This is pathetic. You are pathetic.

He sits. Then stands. Then sits again. The couch is too soft. The floor is too cold. The apartment smells like nothing and everything. Bleach. Dust. Failure.

You don’t even get to be tragic. You’re just exhausting.

His hands are shaking again. Not just the twitchy, ignorable kind— full tremors, rattling like change in his pockets. He tries to hold them still. Fails.

You’re not going to get better.

He closes his eyes.

You're alone, Spencer.

He opens them.

Nobody's coming for you.

No one cares.

You are all alo—

Three knocks. Someone's here. You're here. You're here? What are you doing here?

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too, Spencer. Care to let me in?"

You're leaning against his counter. He's stood on the other side, facing you, but not quite meeting your eyes.

Can't even look her in the face. Loser.

"Spencer?" He responds with a hum that sounds like it is meant for him as much as it is meant for you.

"I've been here for fifteen minutes and you haven't said a word."

"Right. Ah, there you go. That's a word. That good enough for you?"

That's right. Push her away. Antagonize her. Make her hate you. That'll show her for caring about you.

"Spencer, don't be like that, come on."

"Don't be like what? Like a junkie? Like an addict? Is that what you mean? Jesus, you can't even say it." I am not trying to push you away. I cannot help it. I am so sorry. Please still like me.

"I meant, don't be distant with me. I meant, don't be a jerk, you jerk," you say, your voice more reprimanding than angry. That shuts him up.

"Spencer, I am not going to walk around eggshells with you. I don't want to. You have a problem. You need help. You know that. I cannot sit still at work, pretend everything's fine, nod my head and hope you'll be okay and forget everything when I go home. I cannot be like that."

Spencer looks at you like you're hanging stars in his sky. You continue.

"I am so sorry that it took me this long to figure it out and come help you. I had to be sure we're doing it right."

"Doing what right? What are you talking about?"

"Getting you sobered up. I don't really know much about it, and I didn't want to go somewhere that would leave a paper trail. You could lose your job. I did some research, pulled some strings, and well, I was able to get some supplies and over-the-counter meds and worst case scenario, if something does go wrong, which I'm really not counting on, I know some people who would be willing to help off the record."

He stares at you like you're some kind of hallucination. Some fever dream conjured by withdrawal and regret and too many sleepless nights. For him? Why would you do this?

“Why would you do this?” he says aloud, voice flat. Hollow. “What is wrong with you? You could get fired for this. Do you understand that?”

Please don’t stop. Please don’t take it back. Please don't leave me alone. Please don’t say this was a mistake.

You cross your arms, unfazed. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for the concern, by the way.” You look at him and see his face contort in confusion.

"Honey, no offence, I say this with lots of love in my heart," you put your hand over his and continue, "but you're a self sabotaging moron who thinks he doesn't deserve good things. You are very wrong, for the record, and I deeply care about you in spite of that."

Exactly. Why?

“Exactly. Why?” he says. The words are louder this time. Angrier. Desperate. “You don’t owe me anything. I’ve treated you like crap. I’ve lied to you. Pushed you away. I'm a mess. A tragic self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m not— I’m not someone you should still give a damn about.”

And there it is. That trembling, cracked little part of him. The kid who got beat up on playgrounds and cried about it alone. The man who thought he had to earn affection with perfection.

You take a breath. You move your hand, which was on top of his, to hold it now.

“I don’t need reasons or incentive to care about you, Spencer. You don't have to deserve or earn anything from me. Or anyone, for that matter. You are a good person. You deserve to have joy in life. You were not this self-loathing, withdrawn, quiet person, not when we first met. I love listening to you. I love when you get excited about something. I know you're still in there. You’re still my friend. A huge part of my life, whether you like it or not. I love you.”

I love you too. Oh god, I love you too.

"I miss you when you’re not around,” you continue. “And I’m done missing you even when you are. So pony up. We’re getting you sober.”

"Did you know that the word sober originates from Latin? Yeah, se meaning without, and ebrius meaning drunk. The word sobrius which is where sobriety is believed to have come from, literally means without wine."

"There he is."

"Alright, so it's nothing you don't already know, but I'm telling you anyway so you know the drill. It's going to be painful. You'll have cold fevers, nausea, you'll sweat a lot, your body will hurt, you may have episodes, and you will feel awful. And that's all before it gets to the hard part."

"You know, you don't have to do this. You don't need to— I don't—"

"Spencer, Spence, hey," you hold both his hands in yours and continue, "Look at me. It's okay. I know what I'm getting into. We can do this. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

I hope I hold on long enough for you to see me when I'm not like this. When I'm okay. Like I used to be. Like I was when I first saw you. But God forbid, if I let go, I hope it's in your arms.

"Okay."

It comes in waves. The chills start first— sharp, stabbing needles running down his spine, crawling beneath his skin like he’s being flayed alive from the inside out. Then the nausea, rising like a tide, acidic and angry. His body betrays him over and over again. Sweat clings to him, drenching the sheets, pooling under his neck. Every movement feels like a punishment. Every breath feels borrowed.

And she’s still here. Still here. God.

He can’t look at her when it’s bad. When he’s shaking so hard his teeth chatter. When his limbs lock up and his sobs catch in his throat like barbed wire. He hates that she sees him like this. Hates that he can’t hide the worst parts of himself.

Why are you still here? Leave.

Every time he opens his eyes and finds her still at his side— cool rag in hand, whispering his name, smoothing the hair back from his forehead, holding his head up when he vomits— it shatters something in him. A tenderness he’s not strong enough to hold.

You shouldn’t have to see this. You don’t deserve to.

He tries to apologize. For the sweating. For the smell. For the vomiting. For the crying. For the memories he’ll never let himself say aloud. For existing like this in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and cracking.

“You don’t have to be, you have nothing to be sorry for,” she says every time.

But he is. So, so sorry.

You could’ve loved a hundred better men. Men who would’ve taken care of you, who wouldn’t need saving, who would know how to say thank you instead of I’m sorry.

And still, she stays.

Maybe I’m being made new. Maybe this is what it means to be reborn, to be stripped down to nothing, to be known in every terrible inch, and still not be sent away.

He doesn't believe in God. Never really has. But if he did, if he ever were to believe in something divine, it would be this. Her. Here. Now. In all her human mess and radiant grace, holding the pieces of him steady like they're sacred.

If I make it out of this… If I make it to the other side… it’ll be because she walked with me through the fire and didn't once let go.

And if he doesn’t—

Let it be here. Let it be now. Let it be in her arms.

He shakes his head, eyes glassy and wild, muscles locking in protest. “I don’t think I can do this. I don’t— I can’t—”

His voice is barely human anymore. It's all pain and fear and shame twisted into syllables that sound like defeat.

You kneel beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other brushing damp curls from his forehead. “Yes, you can. You’re doing great. You’re doing so good, Spencer. We’re almost there. You’re so close. You’re doing great.”

He wants to believe you. God, he wants to. But everything hurts. Everything burns. His bones feel like they’re breaking and reforming all at once. His mind is louder than ever, telling him he’s weak, that he’s wasting your time, that you’ll hate him after this.

But your voice cuts through the noise like light through smoke.

You’re still here.

When the worst of it passes, you're both tired. Him, more so than you, of course, but you're exhausted regardless. His world is still spinning, but not violently anymore. Just slow, dizzy loops. You're sitting beside him on the floor, hair messily tied back, sleeves rolled up, skin warm where it brushes his.

“Hey,” you say gently, pushing a water bottle toward him. “When was the last time you ate?”

He blinks. “I… don’t remember.”

You nod like that’s what you expected. “Okay. No worries. I’ll look around your kitchen, see what I can make work.”

God, you’re so… gentle. It’s devastating.

You're holding a knife in your hand, looking at his fridge, hoping to find some vegetables, fruits, anything. You don't. You absentmindedly hold the knife as you ransack his kitchen as politely as possible.

He watches you shuffle toward the cabinets. He should offer to help. He should stand. He should do something. But all he can do is sit there on the counter, hunched, wrapped in the too-big hoodie you made him change into, staring at the way you move around his space like it’s your own. Like you're allowed to be here.

And if you could just twist that knife into my heart, stab me lightly, yeah, that would be great.

You start opening drawers and cabinets and make a little sound of horror. “Spencer, honey. You live like a caveman. Where’s all the food? Have you been eating at all?”

He shrugs. Tries to play it off. “I’ve… had protein bars. Mostly.”

“Mmm.” The noncommittal hum you make isn’t exactly believing. But you don’t push. “That’s okay. We’ll do takeout tonight. Figure out the rest tomorrow.”

He nods, too tired to argue. Too in awe of you to try.

“Go relax, okay?” you say as you pick up your phone. “I’ll order something. Just rest until it gets here.”

You wait until he’s curled under a blanket on the couch— he didn’t want the bed— and that’s when you really look around.

It’s chaos. The kind that builds slowly, quietly, until it drowns a person.

Books are scattered everywhere. His meticulously labeled files are out of order. His fish tank light is flickering and dim. The automatic feeder has maybe a day’s worth of food left. And worst of all, one of the tiny fish is floating belly-up, pale and still.

You cover your mouth and breathe through your nose. He hadn’t noticed. He didn’t even see it. That’s what breaks your heart. You step into the hallway and call Garcia.

“Penelope. I need you to do me a favor. No questions asked. I’ll owe you forever.”

You hear the shift in her tone instantly. “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m sending you a picture. I need a fish. Exactly like the one in the photo. Same kind, same size. I need it tonight. As soon as you can.”

There’s a beat. “On it.”

By the time the takeout arrives, you’ve got the new fish hidden in a thermos packed with water, and you’re swapping it into the tank just as Spencer wanders into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and asking if he should grab plates.

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a smile. “Grab whatever you’ve got.”

He disappears into a cabinet, and you finish the switch in record time, flushing the old one without blinking. He doesn’t notice.

He just sits down beside you a minute later and says, “Thanks for staying.”

You hand him his plate.

“Always.”

He smiles at that— tired, but genuine. You both eat in silence for a few minutes, the clinking of forks against ceramic the only sound between you. You keep glancing over, watching for signs of nausea, ready to intervene. But he seems okay. Exhausted, but okay.

After a while, he leans back, running a hand through his hair.

“I think I need to lie down.”

“You shouldn’t lie down just yet,” you say gently as he settles onto the couch.

Spencer looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

“If you end up throwing up again while you’re asleep, you could choke on it. Just for tonight— until it’s fully out of your system— it’s safer to stay upright. By morning, it should pass.”

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he hadn’t thought of that. Of course, he hadn’t. He’s not used to someone else worrying about the aftermath. He's not so used to someone else worrying about him, period.

I love you.

You sit down beside him, not too close, but close enough that he could lean if he wanted to. “You can rest here. Sit with me. Like you do on the jet.”

He turns to you slowly. “You’re… not going home?”

You shake your head once. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

There’s a sharp sting in his throat, and for once it has nothing to do with withdrawal. Have I mentioned that I love you? In case I haven't, I love you. I'm sorry. I love you.

You open your arms a little, wordlessly offering, and after a moment’s hesitation, he lowers his head to your shoulder. He doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s holding onto you until your fingers slide through his hair.

"You're fine. You're going to be okay."

The next morning, he wakes up before you do.

The light’s different today. The early sun filters through the blinds in soft, dappled gold. For the first time in what feels like ages, it doesn’t feel too harsh or blinding. For the first time in longer than he can remember, the sun doesn’t scream. It just… glows. Gentle. Warm. Alive.

You’re still asleep, head tilted, mouth barely parted. Your brow’s furrowed even now— worried in your dreams, probably about him. Always about him.

He watches you in silence. Not like a man haunted. Not like someone waiting for the sky to fall. Just grateful. Reverent.

You saved my life.

If there's anything the BA in Philosophy has helped him understand, it's this. Existentialists argue that life has no inherent meaning, and individuals must create their own meaning through their choices and actions. By that logic, his choices and actions, having subconsciously led him to you, must mean that you are the true meaning of life. Not an existentialist? Not a problem.

Plato believed that the meaning of life lies in attaining the highest form of knowledge, which is the Idea of the Good, from which all good and just things derive utility and value. Considering how Spencer's pursuit of this exact idea is what led him to you in the first place, this must prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you were the true meaning of life. At least to him.

Nihilism suggests that life is ultimately meaningless and that there is no objective value or purpose. Nihilists must have never encountered you, he concludes.

This could be home. You could be home. It could be enough.

a/n: it could count as fluff towards the end but like only if you're mildly fucked in the head like I am

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brain-rot-tmnt · 2 days ago

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Had some fun writing a little scene based on a conversation I had with my girlfriend. So please enjoy some good ol' brotherly bonding time 😊

-----

“Hey Donnie? Why do pigs change colour when you feed them mint?”

Donnie looks over towards his lab door, where currently only Leo's head is visible, hanging sideways into the opening like he's leaning over from off to the side. Donnie flips up his goggles and pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. “What?”

“I said, why do pigs cha-” Leo starts again, only to be cut off.

“No no, I heard you. I'm asking what the heck you're talking about!” Donnie spins around in his chair to properly face Leo. “Pigs don't change colour when you feed them mint, there's no dye in mint, or at least not enough to completely change the colouration of a large mammal such as a pig! And even if there was, the amount you'd need to feed them before you saw any sort of effects would be astronomical! Where on earth did you pick up that ridiculous idea?” Donnie flails as he rants, getting increasingly upset at the thought of Leo actually believing such a ridiculous lie. He thought only Mikey was capable of that degree of naiveté.

“No, Donnie,” Leo says, barely stifling a laugh, “Donnie, it's a joke.”

Donnie freezes mid flail, and he can feel his face beginning to flush. “…oh.”

Leo smirks like the Cheshire cat as he continues. “Pigs change colour when you feed them mint because they become…Pig-minted.” He grins at Donnie expectantly, waiting for the laughter.

Donnie just scowls at him. “I hate you so fucking much right now.”

That's when Leo's head falls straight down onto the floor, landing with a thud and a yelp. Before Donnie can react to this frankly concerning turn of events Raph barrels through the door.

“Yes! Yes I hate him too! Raph hates him so much I won't even get upset over you swearin’ just now.” Raph aggressively points at Donnie like they're two co-conspirators in a crime Donnie has no knowledge of.

Not that Donnie would be averse to committing crimes with Raph, of course. He would just like to know what those crimes are so he can plan accordingly. “Whaaaaaat is going on?” He asks apprehensively.

It's Mikey who answers his question, stepping over Leo, who’s now rolling on the floor howling with laughter, on his way through the door. “Leo asked Raph the same dumb joke-question, and it confused Raph too. And then the punchline infuriated him so much he decided he didn't want to suffer alone, so he carried Leo here so he could tell you the same joke, and, hopefully, get the same reaction.” Mikey grins at his brothers. “Which it did!”

“Ah, yes, that would explain why Leo's head was sideways earlier, if Raph was carrying him.” Donnie turns his attention back to Raph. “Thank you, Raphala, for allowing me to join the ‘I hate Leo and his dum-dum jokes’ club, I'll have t-shirts for us by tomorrow.”

Raph throws his head back and laughs.

“Ooh ooh, can I join too? I had to suffer through the telling of it too! Twice, even!” Mikey bounces beside Donnie excitedly.

“Hey wait, what?” Leo finally stops laughing and props himself up off the floor. “You didn't have to listen to it again, y'know. It was Raph who forced me-” But Leo's complaining falls on deaf ears, his brothers are already arguing over font choices.

-----

The next day at breakfast, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey are all sporting brand new shirts tie-dyed in their respective colours. Blazed across the front in cheerful bubbly black text with a white outline are the words: ‘The Hate On Leon Club’.

“Do you like it? I dyed them myself!” Mikey does a little spin to show off. As he does, Leo can see that written across his shoulders are the words: ‘No Dum-Dum Jokes Allowed’.

“Aww c'mon, seriously?” Leo whines at him.

“Oh don't be so dismayed, dearest brother of mine. Of course we made you one too!” Donnie responds from beside the coffee machine.

“You…did?” Leo raises an eyebrow, apprehensive. “Whyyyyy would I want to join my own hate club?”

Donnie shrugs at him, nonchalant, his expression betraying absolutely nothing.

Leo narrows his eyes, suspicious of his brother's intentions. Curiosity and apprehension fight a war across his face, but eventually curiosity wins. “Where is it, then?”

“Right here!” Raph practically shouts from behind Leo as he forces a t-shirt over the slider's head.

Leo yelps and struggles against Raph, but the snapper is too strong and eventually Leo is more or less successfully stuffed inside the shirt.

“Augh, Raph! Watch the face, bro.” Leo glares at Raph as he fixes his crooked mask. Then he looks down at the shirt. It's tie-dyed in a blue and white swirl starting from the left side of his chest, right over his heart. Across the front in the same black font as the others it reads: ‘My Brothers Love Me’.

Despite himself, Leo smiles down at the shirt. “Awww, guys. I love you too!” He turns and throws his arms around Raph, the closest of his brothers, giving him the biggest hug he can manage. All anger about the other shirts apparently forgotten.

Behind him, Mikey stifles a giggle. Written across Leo's shoulders are the words: ‘I'm The Dum-Dum Joke’.

#Sadly when my gf and I had this conversation #I was Donnie 😭#In my defense I was very tired and also sometimes my girlfriend believes the wierdest stuff #but also #I might be the dum-dum #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rotten posting #rotten writing

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tatsunokoori-blog · 2 years ago

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Randumb thought

What if the "Second Coming" Metatron wanted was fucked over by Aziraphale miracling himself into having a kid instead of whatever target Met and God wanted? Like, completely split second decision on his part.

#ramblings #wtf Tatsu #brain fart #mpreg idea #pregnant Aziraphale #Please tell me I'm not the only one that had this idea #good omens speculation #time to toss myself into the void weeeeeee #good omens

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pheyphem · 4 months ago

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ignoring the obvious. is anyone else really fucking intrigued/confused by this room

it is so STARKLY different from the rest of the phouse like it has fuzzy padded brown walls?? like they have a reason for every design choice in the phouse so why did they go with fuzzy brown walls in here and here only (it seems)??/?

drop your ideas below

#only semi-explanations i can think of are:#1. it isn't their house and it just so happens that they took multiple photos that they then posted in the same non-phouse location #(likely family's house if this is the case cause when else would they be this relaxed at someone else's house/whatever other place lol)#2. this is one of the “secret safe rooms” dan alluded to in.. A Video i honestly don't remember where lol pls if someone knows tell me #(i do know that phil also showed a secret door in i think one of his “answering questions i'd normally avoid” vids? or a tiktok i forgor)#and for those curious: first pic is from 9:46 dan's bday livestream and the second one is 10:45 wdapteo 4 #and in case it matters (dk why it would but just a fact i learned while retrieving these images):#for the first image afaik we don't know the day it was taken but we can safely assume it was taken before nov 27 2023 #cause that's when the catboy photos were posted & this image came up right before that one when phil was showing off the yearly dan pics #so sometime between june 12 & nov 27 2023 (since phil would've started collecting new pics of dan after his birthday had passed)#and then the second image would've been sometime between feb 21 and 27 2024 #because the last text that has a date that we see before this one is from the 21st #and then the texts we see immediately after that are from when dan was doing wad in frankfurt which according to phandom wiki was feb 27th #which gives me the idea that it's proooobably not my first theory?#since why would they be at family's house at such random times of the year #ANYWAY that's all from me please drop your thoughts i'm curious to hear #forgive me if we've already had a moment like this and figured it out and i'm just late to the party. but theorizing fun so idc #dnp #phan #amazingphil #daniel howell #phandom #me post #photo

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nikolas-ghostbusters-fixation · 9 months ago

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Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how everyone thought Egon had gone insane. What Happened that made them think that. They've fought a gigantic Stay Puft Marshmellow Man TWICE (counting the 2009 video game because iirc it's canon? Correct me if I'm wrong), fought an interdimensional god, fought a blood thirsty ruler that killed thousands and was hated by all that was trapped in a painting (and managed to get in to beat him by making THE STATUE OF LIBERTY start walking down the street with slime that reacted purely based on vibes), found an underground abandoned transit system full of the moodslime, had a bathtub try to eat Dana and her baby, fought a giant murderous black widow lady, fought the fisherman ghost who turned an entire hotel floor into the bottom of a ocean, and that's not even mentioning them getting trapped on an island that randomly raised up from underwater that had been abandoned for decades created by Ivor Shandor who worshipped Gozer. So what did he do or say that made everyone else think he'd gone insane?? All I can think is maybe he was acting strange / eratic before, but he's always been like that to some degree.

I don't know. It's something that I've been thinking about. The correct answer is 'it's not that deep and they needed a reason that the others weren't together anymore and weren't aware of Egons death or know what was going on,' but also. What Was He Saying that prompted everyone, including Ray, to think he lost his mind when he'd been right almost every time before that.

I'm genuinely so curious as to what he was up to before this. What was he doing. What insane idea was working on prior to this or was he even working on anything at all??

Also want to clarify this post isn't negative 😭 I really love the newer movies and their lore / the newer storyline / characters, I just like thinking about small stupid things like this. Gives me something to think about / speculate about / figure out an answer to.

#ghostbusters #egon spengler #nikolas posts #I have so many thoughts on it because I've just been rewatching the two movies on loop for the past few days.#All we got was Ray saying that he'd started talking about the end of the world (IIRC) and that he went insane and took everything #when he eventually left to deal with it on his own #which for the record it's extremely impressive that he would've stopped Gozer from returning BY HIMSELF. The only reason it hadn't worked #was because of the electricity issue #Hiding all the traps and setting up the proton packs to fire at the hell pit?? Insanity. He's just on a complete different level of existin #Like they were aware of Ivor Shandor and his plans long before??? They found his ISLAND DEDICATED TO GOZER who had full intention of #BRINGING THEM BACK #it's really Really REALLY not this deep but I have thoughts and I wanted to share them. Maybe someone else might have an idea I #couldn't think of or might have something to add.#I guess it could be a 'they beat Gozer once and assumed they were gone' but that wasn't the first time Gozer 'died' so??#if I missed something Please tell me. I haven't watched the newer movies as much as the older ones (I grew up watching them / playing #the game so I'm more familiar with the older lore and haven't had the chance to rewatch the newer ones 1000 times over unfortunately)#so it's entirely possible I missed something #I'd think maybe it was just because they were older but I really don't think thats the case. I have reasoning for it but I need to do #the math to make sure I'm getting the ages right by the time AfterLife happens.#really need to make a chart / timeline of all the events that happened and what year / month / day they happened. That's a project #for tomorrow perhaps.#anyways if anyones reading this sorry for the insane rambling and congrats for making it to the end #also this post isn't negative I adore the newer movies so much. I love them a lot and I genuinely don't really care about this at all #just a thing to think / ponder / speculate about if that makes sense #I enjoy thinking about stupid irrelevant stuff like this #so so so many thoughts

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months ago

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Bruce: Attention, please. I understand a majority of you had plans this weekend. I want to be considerate of your time, so I'll make this brief. Lex Luther has hired a boy to seduce Wayne Enterprise secrets out of Tim. I need you to be weary at the gala. Dismiss.

Tim: Hold on hold on. I'm going to need a LOT more information than just that.

Bruce: I said dismissed Tim. Your siblings have plans.

Dick: *Raises a hand*

Bruce: Yes?

Dick: I can tell this approach is from the parenting books Uncle Clark got you, which is great. Thank you for trying, but we really need more details B. You can be considerate of our time by properly using it.

Bruce: hmmmm. Alright, if everyone feels this way. I suppose I can explain

Batkids: *Nodding*

Bruce clicking on the computer to show a picture: This is Daniel Fenton. His family used to own Fenton Works until the unfortunate loss of Mrs. Madeline Fenton in a car accident. Mr. Jack Fenton was convinced a ghost killed his wife. He was arrested after he crossed state borders chasing it and went on a rampage in downtown Gotham. He was deemed mad with grief and has been in Arkham for the last four years. Neither Jasmine nor Daniel were able to keep the family business afloat and were eventually bought out by Luthor.

Steph: I remember Mr. Fenton. He made that weird ray that was just throwing green goo on people. Besides scarying a few civilians, he didn't do anything bad. No one was harmed.

Bruce: That was the Fenton children argument as well. They were unable to get Mr. Fenton out of Arkham and into a different institution. I fear corruption is at play. During his stay in Arkham Mr.Fenton, has continued to create inventions, though no patent has been filed. All funds from said inventions are being made by local Mafia families instead.

Jason: Those thieves are preying on a grieving man. Rumors has it, Mr. Fenton isn't even aware his wife is dead. His mind blocked it, but he's slowly deteriorating. They're trying to squeeze out every drop of cash they can from him before his mind is completely gone.

Bruce: Exactly, and his children know it. Recently, Clark overheard Luthor offer Daniel a deal. He steals Wayne Enterprise secrets from Tim - probably got the idea after reading the article of Tim coming out, no doubt - and Luthor pulls enough strings to get Mr. Fenton out.

Tim: That's horrible. Is there any way we can help the Fentons instead? Move Mr. Fenton to a different place?

Bruce: I'm working it, but I believe Luthor is blocking my attempts. He did the same to Miss Fenton's college and loan applications. The pair are in a finical crisis that does not seem to get better no matter what they do. Luthor has employed similar tactics before.

Damian: Thus trapping the Fenton siblings in a box, unable to defy Luthor. They may be so desperate they would agree to anything after this many hardships.

Bruce: Exactly.

Tim: Alright I'll sleep with him

Cass: Literally, no one said you needed to sleep with him.

Tim: It's will be tough but I'll take one for the team.

Duke: Tim, that's not what B is saying at all.

Bruce: Wait, wait. I think Tim wants to sleep with Daniel Fenton. Hold on, let me consult the experts *opens parenting book*

Bruce: This isn't covered in the book. I don't know what to do.

Dick: I do. Tim, you're not sleeping with Daniel Fenton, but you are going to pretend his seduction is working. We're going to stop Luthor and the Mafia families controlling Arkham. We need to buy time to do that.

Tim: Kisses and over clothes stuff only. Got it.

Damian: Life has been hard for you since Dowd left you, hasn't it Drake?

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #from a fic i never wrote #The Bats family briefly #meanwhile Danny and Jazz are having a moral crisis #the Bats have forgot proper reactions to things #Jack is slowly fading #Luthor is evil

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bruisedboys · 5 days ago

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ENDGAME — send me a dialogue prompt from this list, this list, or this list, + a character from the list above for a blurb! HI can i get bucky x reader where reader is absolutely oblivious "please correct me if i've been reading this all wrong but..." but bucky has been trying ALL of his 1940s flirting methods and hes tweaking (i'm imagining his eye twitching) because hes been so obvious about it and she cant tell

hi angel!! thank u so so much for your request it was so much fun to write, hope u enjoy!

congressman!bucky x fem!reader, 1.3k words (reader is a little shy and a lot oblivious)

Apart from outright telling you, Bucky doesn’t know what else he can do to show you how much he likes you. He’s tried everything, from flowers on your desk to flirting with you over paperwork, to impromptu lunch with you during your break. He doesn’t mind waiting for you if that’s what you want, but he’s starting to think you actually haven’t realised how he feels about you, despite his many attempts.

You take his flirting like he’s joking (he’s not, he’s completely serious whenever he tells you you look pretty, or that you’re an incredible secretary and he wouldn’t have anyone else), and you don't flirt back, not on purpose, anyway. You’re not stupid, but you’re maybe a little unassuming. He guesses this is a result of you not being pursued much, or in the proper way. Which, of course, he thinks is absurd, when you’re that pretty.

“Hi, doll,” he says, looking up from his laptop. He gives you a once over, “You look nice today.”

You stand in the doorway of his office, looking lovely as ever with a stack of paperwork pressed to your chest. “Hello,” you say, smiling. “Thank you.”

Bucky likes your smile. He likes everything about you. He gestures to your paperwork with his head. “What’ve you got for me?”

“The documents you asked for, the ones you wanted printed?” You cross the room and place the stack on the corner of his desk. “Sorry I took so long, the printer was playing up.”

Bucky couldn’t care less about the printer. You look almost abnormally pretty today, in a cream coloured sweater and a brown skirt, your hair pinned up out of your face. He stares at you a bit too long before he remembers himself.

“That’s okay,” he says. Again, he could not care less about the printer when you’re in his office looking like that. “Thanks so much, doll.”

You smile at him and shrug one shoulder. “Just doing my job,” you say sweetly. “Was there anything else you wanted?”

Bucky can think of a lot of things he wants. You, being at the very top of the list. He decides on the spot that he’ll finally tell you so, tonight if he can. He taps a vibranium finger on the desk like he’s thinking.

“Hmm,” he hums, dragging it out as he pretends to think. He takes his time pretending before meeting your gaze, “Are you free tonight?”

You roll your eyes. “Bucky,” you say.

Bucky loves the way his name rolls off your tongue like that. He grins.

“What?” He asks, laughing a bit, “I’m serious, are you doing anything after work?”

You squint at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “No,” You say slowly. You fiddle with your bracelet. “Why?”

“I want to take you out,” Bucky says simply. “For dinner. Would you want to?”

You stare at him. “Are you joking?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I want to go somewhere nice with you and talk,” he explains.

Something close to panic crosses your features. “Are you firing me?” You ask.

“What?”

Bucky’s baffled. He has no idea why you think he’d be firing you. He’s just asked you on a date. You’re the best secretary he’s ever had (he’s only ever had one, but he imagines you’re the best out of all the ones he could’ve had). He very clearly likes you enough to keep you around for as long as he wants. Why you think he’d want to sack you is beyond him.

You get nervous then, embarrassed. You screw your hands in your sweater. “I— so you’re not firing me?”

Bucky feels suddenly so fond for you he almost stands up and kisses you. It burns in his chest like starlight, makes him feel nineteen again. It’s been a long, long time since he’s felt so young. It’s sort of electrifying.

“No,” he tells you, shaking his head. “Of course I’m not firing you, why would I do that? I just want to take you to dinner, doll.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

Bucky grins. You’re so cute. So oblivious. It drives him nuts for more reasons than one. “Is that a yes?” He asks you.

You rock on your feet and bite your lip. “Yeah, okay.”

“Perfect,” Bucky grins. “Do you like Vietnamese? I know a place.”

You’ve spent the majority of the day at work worrying about your dinner date with Bucky. You’re not sure if you should call it a date. You don’t know what to call it, actually.

You like Bucky. He’s kind, hard-working, handsome. He’s also intimidating and a bit scary sometimes. You know he doesn’t mean to be, but you’re flighty at the best of times, and he only makes it worse. He’s always saying and doing things that make your heart pump in a way you don’t quite understand.

You’re still a little scared he might fire you. Or tell you he’s replaced you. But so far, he’s only walked on the outside of the sidewalk, held the door for you, and refused to let you see how much anything on the menu costs.

All this only gets you thinking about all the other nice things he’s ever done for you, the pretty flowers that appeared on your desk last week, the time he gifted you a necklace because he, “thought it would look nice on you”. You’ve never thought about any of it for too long, not wanting to get your hopes up about what it all means.

“I’ve lost you,” Bucky says, sitting across from you. He’s taken off his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair. You can’t stop looking at his vibranium arm and the way it reflects the warm glow of the lights overhead.

You blink. “Sorry.”

Bucky smiles at you. “That’s okay. What’re you thinking about?”

You bite your lip. “Nothing,” you lie.

Your lie must show on your face (you’ve never been good at hiding anything, let alone from Bucky, who seems to have the uncanny ability to unravel you like a spool of thread), because Bucky gives you a knowing look.

“C’mon, doll, what is it?” He reaches across the table and takes your hand in his flesh one. He’s warm, but you’re warmer. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, “You can tell me anything, you know.”

You look at your joined hands on the table and feel a bit dizzy.

“Um,” you start lamely. You can’t look at him, so you stare at his shoulder instead. “Please correct me if I've been reading this all wrong, but… is this a date?”

Bucky goes silent and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe the flowers and the necklace and everything else was merely a kind gesture between friends. Maybe this isn’t what you think it is, and you’ve gone and—

“Oh, honey,” Bucky says, saccharine sweet. “Are you kidding me? Of course this is a date. If you want it to be.”

You don’t know what to say. Of course you want it to be a date. You just never considered that Bucky would want that, too. You realise, suddenly, that you’ve been a bit foolish. You’ve no time to think about it because Bucky pushes his hand further up your arm to hold your forearm, leaning closer over the table.

“Do you want it to be?” He asks quietly. Gently, like he won’t be mad or offended if you say no.

You don’t want to say no, not at all. In what world would you? You nod your head, “Yes, I think so.”

Bucky grins so big it changes his whole face. “Okay,” he nods. “A date it is.”

He leans back in his chair but doesn’t let go of your hand. You feel so giddy you could burst, your chest fizzing with the feeling. Your fear it’ll spill out of you all at once.

Bucky looks equally as happy as you feel. “I’m glad you said so,” he says, and there’s a teasing edge to his tone that you’d hate if it wasn’t coming from him. “I’ve been wanting to take you on a date for ages, did you notice?”

You can’t say you did. At least you know now.

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eternalsams · 27 days ago

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My Taste ↠ Robert 'Bob' Reynolds

pairing: Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

warning/content: fluff, anxiety, non-established relationship, Bob's a cute puppy in love, might contain spoilers if you look into it, it's giving Avengers fanfic with Clint in the vent and Thor eating pop-tarts.

summary: You take Bob out but his anxiety gets the best of him and he's scared he might ruin everything.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. This is my first time writing for Bob, I saw the movie so I know the way I'm writing for him isn't the same as in the comics.

marvel masterlist main masterlist

You grabbed your bag and walked in the common room when something caught your attention. Bob had just turned a page of his book, his lips parted in concentration as his eyes read word after word on the paper. You smiled softly to yourself, he just seemed so relaxed after a couple of months with you guys.

The first few weeks were the hardest, he'd stay mostly silent, only speaking when talked to. His relationship with Yelena was the strongest, the two connected very quickly and she was the one he talked the most to. But he eventually opened up to the others, including you. He once found you reading a book and sat down next to you on the couch, sometimes stealing glances at you and your book as you flipped pages. "What's it about?" He asked quietly and if he'd said it any lower, you wouldn't have heard him. You looked up at him, surprised he was interested in what you were doing. You looked back down at the words you were reading and mentally marked your progression before looking back at Bob. "It's uhm... it's a romance." You noticed his cheeks flush a little as he smiled sheepishly. "Is it any good?" He then asked and you smiled at him, pitching him the plot of the romance you were reading.

And so the next time you went to the library for yourself, you looked for a book you could get for Bob. During your previous conversation on your own reading, he quickly told you what he liked in the plot and what he disliked, so you had a vague idea of what to get him. And when you came back home, the new recruit was getting coffee in the kitchen. He added a cube of sugar as you noticed he always did in every hot drink he had. "Hey, Bob!" You called him and he jumped a bit, holding his cup extra-carefully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." You chuckled and pushed his new book on the counter towards him. "What's this?" He frowned as he sipped on his coffee, the hot drink warming up his tired body and numb muscles. "It's for you! If you don't like it, you can still give it back, I kept the receipt." You explained as you pulled the think piece of paper out of your bag. He put down his cup of coffee and reached for the book, his fingers caressing the hard cover. "You really shouldn't have, thank you. It means a lot to me." He smiled and you could've swore you saw his eyes shine with tears before he looked down at the book and opened it.

Since that day, you'd exchange about your last readings and more. He opened up to you and sometimes asked you to get him particular books when he knew you'd pass by the library. Leading to today. He was so focused on the fictional story he was reading about he almost missed you but he eventually looked up and smiled at you.

Bob liked you, he liked how passionate you were about what you loved, he liked how patient you were with him. When you first met, he was apologizing for every breath he was taking a bit too close to everyone and every time he did so, you'd smile at him with kindness and tell him he was fine. You never told him the things he felt were senseless, you acknowledged his feelings and accepted them. And he liked your smile, how small wrinkles appeared beside your eyes when you laughed at one of Alexei's bad jokes. And he couldn't not notice how much work you put in your body and strength. He knew you were waking up early to go work out with Bucky, the two of you showing up sweaty and tired in the kitchen when he was having his umpteenth coffee after a long night staring at the ceiling of his room.

Bob noticed how you were dressed and holding your bag in your hand, he frowned. "Are you going somewhere?" He was confused, you didn't have anything coming up in your agenda, so maybe a last minute trip to the store or something. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go grab a coffee somewhere. But I see you're deep in your book so I don't want to disturb you." You chuckled sheepishly and put down your bag next to the couch. Bob parted his lips and looked down at his book, the plot was getting really interesting and he was almost done with his chapter. He didn't really like putting down his books in the middle of a chapter but he also really wanted to go out, and especially with you. "I can finish reading my chapter and then I'm all yours. I mean... not all yours, I mean yeah but-" He stuttered, warmth flooding his face as he tried to crawl out of this embarrassing slip of the tongue. "Of course! Finish your chapter, I'll be waiting." You smiled at him and pulled out your phone before sitting down on the couch and staying busy until Bob was ready for you. The young man stared at you for a little longer, surprised with how comprehensive you were, but also not shocked at all. And before you could catch him staring, he focused once more on his book. He quickly finished the chapter, snapped the book shut and almost run to his room to change into something else than his usual sweatpants.

When he came back, you were waiting for him by the door and held it open for him. You locked behind the two of you since the others were out on different missions and Bob followed you in the street. Even after a few months in New York, he was still amazed by the tall buildings and how loud the city was. There were so many people in the streets that he almost wanted to grab your hand not to lose you in the crowd but he stopped himself because that'd be weird if he did. You eventually turned into a quieter street and he noticed the small café with the tables on the pavement. You went to sit in the sun and he followed you silently. A waitress came to bring you the menu and Bob politely smiled at her as you thanked her. "So... tell me, Bob." You caught his attention and he looked up at you above his menu. "Did you talk with Bucky like I told you to?" Bob once told you he wanted to learn how to fight but was still too scared to go out and find a gym. So you convinced him to think about telling Bucky because you knew the ex-soldier would be very attentive and caring with Bob. "Uhm, no... Not yet. But I think I'll talk to him when he'll be back home tomorrow." He nodded as if to convince himself he could do it. "He actually offered to help me if I ever wanted to get into... that." He explained a little shyly. "That's great! See? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you're taking his offer."

The waitress came back to take your orders and you simply asked for two coffees and a piece of pie to share. You and Bob kept talking about what he's been doing while you were out on missions, sharing funny stories about Yelena's guinea pig or how thrilling the last movie he saw was. The lady brought you your drinks and food and you thanked her. You took a sip of your coffee and closed your eyes as the bitterness of coffee burned you tongue. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed Bob was fidgeting and not touching his cup. "Something's wrong?" He looked up at you and quickly shook his head before forcing a smile. "No. Everything's fine." He shrugged awkwardly and grabbed his cup before taking a sip and hiding a grimace. "Bob. What's wrong?" You put down your coffee and reached out for his hand. He stared at your hand as he felt the softness of your fingers rub his knuckles. How can someone who might've taken lives have hands this soft? "It's nothing, they just... Aren't they supposed to give a cube of sugar? You know, just in case..." He asked quietly, not really knowing what he was getting at. He hasn't been out in society for so long, he couldn't even remember the last time he went to a fast-food.

"They forgot your sugar?" You asked as you moved to stand up and go ask for some. Bob squeezed your hand to stop you from doing so with panicked eyes. "No, don't! It's fine, really. I can drink it without sugar." To make his point, he took another sip and did a better job at hiding his grimace, but still not perfect. "Bob... You never take your coffee without sugar." You sat back down, your second hand joining the first one holding his. He could feel his heart beating faster at the contact but ignored it. "How do you- Never mind, it's okay, I promise." He anxiously glanced at the waiters inside, they might've forgotten because they're busy or maybe they're having a bad or long day.

"I always notice things about you Bob." You admitted, drawing back his attention on you. He almost spilled his coffee on his shirt when he looked into your eyes and saw the softest of them. He couldn't remember when was the last time someone looked at him that way. It made him think, hope, that what he was starting to feel could be reciprocated. He smiled and felt his cheeks flush. You let go of his hand and stood up, but before he could ask you where you were going, you told him. "I'm going to the bathroom, will you be alright by yourself for a minute?" You asked him jokingly, a teasing smile on your lips. He nodded and smiled as you left the table and he watched you go inside. He quickly averted his eyes when he realized his gaze was dropping and punished himself mentally. He was supposed to be your friend, not a pervert who checked you out every time you turned your back to him. True to your words, you came back a minute later at your table and dropped a cube of sugar in his cup of coffee.

Bob's eyes snapped at you and back to the waiters inside. Before he could fully panic, you grabbed his hand and rubbed his knuckles once more. "I said I wanted more sugar for my coffee, I didn't tell them it was for you." You explained and noticed his shoulders drop in relief. You knew Bob never wanted to be a burden, even more after what happened when you all first met. He felt guilty over everything and anything. But you could work with that, half your friends were that way. One more or one less wouldn't change how you'd handle things. "Thank you." He said quietly before taking a new sip and smiling softly. "Better huh?" You chuckled and he nodded, enjoying the feeling of coffee waking up his body and your hand still in his, keeping him out of his thoughts and in the present. But he was way more surprised when you lifted his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles, timidly smiling at him, not knowing if he would accept the gesture. But the look of pure adoration in his eyes gave you an answer and your smile widened.

tag list (people who interacted (comments or reposts) when i asked who wanted Bob in my characters list): @leavemeoutofitkay @adaobiiii @sennasiempre @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @gumdropgirl

@woniwontons @hailey-laufeyson @ineverusethisaccount @nopopculturereferenceinthetrip @crashingout136789

@autumnsymphony @smiley-roos @fandomficsobsession @rummikubcube @girxwrp @books4ever03 @firebeverly @xprloki

@spideybatsy @mvcg-oo @devils-blackrose @wandalfnation @foreverchangingmind

#bob reynolds #robert reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #the sentry #the sentry x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#marvel #mcu #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

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