#and each section is divided in two

[thekenikaridevblog]

Alright boys, you know the drill. Just a quick masterlist to track down progress

Backgrounds (0/6)

Tilesets (0/2)

Normal CGs (0/?) (At least four)

CGs for game mechanics (0/7)

Dialogue (0%)

New character sprites (0/3)

Cutscenes (0/1) (0%)

Free time events (0%) (I don't even know who's gonna be available and what to do lol)

Music (0/?) (Idk man)

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

[angel-eyes05]

going over easy

pairing: bob reynolds x powered!thunderbolts!fem!reader

summary: two of the same. after breaking through inital barriers, you and the sentry appear to be inseperable, a pull almost forcing you two to each other. the strength of that pull has been getting pretty testy recently, and the two of you begin to wonder who you are to the other.

warnings/info: nsfw and mdni warning by the end of the fic, ill section off that part if you just wanna read the cutey parts, veryyyyyyy soft sex, no use of y/n, this bob is gonna be a little different from how i see him in a lot of other fics so disclaimer about that ig, but dw he's still very soft and sweet, oral sex and fingering (f!receiving), self depreciation on readers side, lots of my headcanons are gonna shine through here, reader is powered as well (yes that is gonna play into this lol) and is less of a blank slate than usual (aka shes kinda side rip), a scene in the void so we can know reader a little more and just for plot purposes lol, bob's powers are gonna be limited to whatever we saw showcased in thunderbolts so please dont get picky if somethings comic inaccurate thanks, its bob so ofc theres a little bit of angst too but dw this is very fluffy as well we love being well rounded lol

word count: 13.3k

notes: so guess who's obsessed with thunderbolts now.....and guess what half of the reasoning is.....if your guess was a man YOUD BE RIGHT!!!! i had to write for him ofc, i put a steve harrington fic on pause for this i had to jump on it lol. one thing i will say about bob fics that annoy me is that ofc everyone turns bob into a cutesy pootsy uwu boy which, hate me or whatever, he is NOTTTTT to me, that man was so sassy and sarcastic in the vault (to walker especially lol) so i wanted that to come out a little more here while still being his naturally sweet and soft self. i go a little bit into 2016 mcu fandom mode on some of the early character descriptions and relationships BUT CAN YOU BLAME A GIRL CAUSE IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK, I JUST HAD TO </3. i also didnt proofread this cause yet again its like 1am when im posting this and im so tired so if you catch anything uhhhh my bad lol. anyways this is standard to most of my other fics, so have fun lol enjoy!!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You always overcooked your eggs. It was part of your routine at this point in your life. As a kid, your irrationally large fear of getting salmonella caused you to force your mom to always burn your eggs, chicken, and other foods of the sorts. It didn't even taste bad to you. It was all you had ever known. Uncomfortable, but natural. You scooped the rubbery eggs out of the pan and onto your plate while you attempted to squirt whatever ketchup you could out of the bottle. Taking your lunch, you leaned on the kitchen island and stared out of the sweeping windows of The Watchtower.

Valentina finding you was complicated. On one hand, you were out of the hell hole of a compound you called a home. However though, her manipulation paired with constant missions and training proved to be its own task entirely. And still with all that, your mind had a knack for traveling back to that dark, damp room. Like a looming threat over your head that if you ever messed up, that's where you would return.

That fear pushed you for the past few years. You worked till your bones cracked fixing up Valentina's messes. It was monotonous, but you had convinced yourself to be grateful for the opportunity to become something more with what you had. You had a special gift after all. Thrusted onto you, sure, but Valentina said that it meant you were worth something now. A living shield and sword. Each time you got hit, your body was able to process the kinetic energy into physical blasts. Meaning dodging an attack was actually bad form on your part. So you got hit. A lot. Most days you'd stumble back to your apartment, knocked in the head so silly you didn't know what was up or down.

But it was good work. Kept you busy. That was until Valentina attempted to have you assassinated, trying to tie up all her loose ends. That's all you were to her at the end of the day. A fly on the way she had to clean up before her guests arrived. Turns out though, she had lots of other flies on the walls, who would in fact turn their forces against her, becoming the world's New Avengers in the process.

One of Yelena's first personal tasks on the job was to find any other lost associates of Valentina. Lucky for you, you fell right into that category. After proving yourself physically capable and trustworthy to her and the rest of the team, you eventually joined as an official member. Your rise to glory had been long and tough, but man was the view from the top nice.

As you grew closer with each of the teammates, you noticed each of their little knick-knacks. Yelena was very easy to let you in, almost like she was begging to share herself with someone else. She must've gotten it from her father, Alexei. He didn't take anything more than four hours to warm up to you. The other three went at a much slower pace, Ava and you eventually bonding over your mutual teasing for Walker, who you made sure knew it was all in good fun. Bucky was last, but it seemed thats how he was with most people. You let him take his time, which seemed to work well in the end. All of them had made their way.

Well. Almost.

Bob was kind of a weird guy. He was kind of an Avenger? But not really? If anything, he was more of their dog that would show up to public appearances with you and the team, but never missions. He spent most of his time lounging around or cleaning up the Watchtower, or in sessions with his therapist. He was always looming around, but kept a specific distance. Mainly physical. Whenever you'd seem to be about to brush by him, he'd scatter away, like a cat who got spooked. You had talked to Yelena about it before, but she said to just give him his time. That this was probably natural after his "incident" a few months back.

You weren't in New York for it, but it of course was on the news everywhere. How a sea of black ink had devoured the city and all of its civilians in their own personalized trauma nightmare. Something you were secretly grateful to have missed. You knew exactly what you'd see if you were in there.

In the recent time of your arrival, you had managed to find and take up your role in your little group. Their own little weird mage, banned from making food for anyone but yourself. No one else liked your burnt food, big shocker.

As you wrapped up with said burnt lunch, you took your plate and utensils to the sink, as a pair of bare feet patted into the room. "Good morning sleepyhead," you called out, knowing who they belonged to already. "Morning's a bit of a stretch, it's like what, 1:30 already?" Bob replied, mid yawn. "I told you guys to start forcing me up earlier," he complained. "Yeah yeah, but Yelena says it's good for you. Your body needs its rest after the serum treatment," you retorted. "Doesn't..." he paused mid sentence to check his sleep tracker on his watch. "....14 hours seem like a little much?" "Hey, your body's gonna take what it needs," you said, finally turning around to face him. He was wearing his usual lounge outfit, a gigantic, comically oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. His body had grown incredibly sensitive to touch after the serum, so the less fabric tightening down on him, the better.

Bob gave a half smile to your comment and attempted to wipe the drowsiness off his face. "You can leave that for me, it's fine," Bob commented, as you took the dish soap and drizzled it over your dirty plate and pan. "I don't mind, I'm already here anyways," you insisted, turning on the tap. Bob sighed and shrugged his shoulders backwards in an attempt to wake his body up. "Alright, but I'm taking charge on the stovetop," he insisted, walking over to your area.

Something must've been in the air today, because this was the most Bob had talked to you in a while, and this was definitely the closest he had stood near you ever before. His presence was a sweet one, as he himself was a sweet guy. You had seen it in the way he acted with everyone else. You knew it probably had to deal with the fact that you were the newcomer, a different face than what he was used to, but you wanted to badly to have something that close with him too. A deep, lingering jealousy had proved to be a close friend of yours when you would see how he would act with John or Yelena compared to how he would act with you.

Hopefully, this was a step in the right direction.

"You know where the others went?" Bob almost immediately asked.

Or maybe not.

"Downstairs in a meeting with Valentina. I got a pass to skip on this one." In the last meeting you had been to, Bucky had to hold you down before you had the chance to blast her smug smirk off her face.

Bob made a hum in acknowledgment. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, which you caught out of the corner of your eye. "How do you feel about....her?" Bob paused for a moment.

When Yelena had told you Valentina was at majority blame for The Void Incident, you had no doubt in believing it. You didn't know how the others were so okay with it, but Ms. de Fontaine being your boss still unsettled you. You didn't like the idea that she was still overseeing all of your actions and controlling how you were supposed to be acting towards the public. Especially after the shit she's pulled. Once Yelena explained the situation, about the blackmail shock collar the team had on her if she ever took anything too far, you felt a little more at ease about it. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake off the paranoia about being in this situation with her.

"Fine," Bob responded. You placed the plate down in the sink and turned to face him finally. "That's all you're gonna give me? Fine?" He gave a deep, annoyed sigh. "Well what do you want me to say? That I don't like her? That I don't trust her? That she's the reason I'm like this now and when it didn't go the way she planned, she killed me? Hmm?" You froze a little bit. You hadn't seen this side of him before. The team said it came out a little bit when he would go "Sentry-Mode" (a name made on Alexei's part). You sighed and went back to washing your dish. Bob rubbed his face again. "Sorry, I just thought it was pointless to state the obvious." You smirked a little bit. "Well that's one thing right. Just trying to fill the air I guess." "I know....sorry, that was mean." There's the Bob you know. Always apologizing. "You're good."

The air was stuffy with a tension for the next few minutes while you cleaned the kitchen. Up until a wet glass plate slipped out of your hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering into a billion little pieces. Bob flinched at the sound, on the other side of the island wiping down the counter. You froze and chuckled to yourself a bit. "Woah, you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Yeah, yeah, just a bit of a ditz today," you said, wiping your hand across your face. "You're good, just stay where you are for a sec, I don't want you to get any in your feet," Bob warned, going into first responder mode as he assessed the situation. "I wanna try this out for a second," he insisted.

You watched closely and stilly, as Bob took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and put his hands out. Suddenly, the glass shards around your feet jittered and lifted into the air slowly, as Bob opened his eyes and guided them to the trash can. Once he was done, he released his breath and dropped his hands. "Well look at mister big shot powers over here!" you cheered. "Bucky let you start practicing again recently?" "Yeah, a little bit here and there just so I don't go overboard again," he blushed a light pink. "Keep it up," you smiled at him.

Before you took another step, you looked down at the ground and noticed a particularly large piece of glass. "Oops, looks like you missed one hot-rod." "Shit, sorry, let me try one more time," he said closing his eyes again. "No no, don't worry, it's fine, I'll just pick this one up," you insisted, reaching down to pick it up. "No, wait, you'll cut yourself!" Bob shouted, almost running over to reach you. "Bob, it's fine I pro-."

As Bob's hand grabbed onto your wrist, you felt a spike of shivers roll down your arm. The first time he had made contact with you, and his hands were so soft....

You couldn't focus on it for long though, looking up and seeing a face of pure horror on Bob's face. You looked at him confused. You were quick to join him though as streams of black slithered across the floor and over your eyes. The last thing you remember was Bob's hand ripping off your wrist, desperately called out your name as the shadows took his place.

~~~~~

Your eyes peeled open, as you tried to assess your surroundings after the chaos. It was eerily quiet, a leaky faucet dripping as the only sound. The room was dark, damp, and cold. Concrete floors and walls, a chamber pot in the corner, and a cot with a wrinkled, thin blanket shoved against the wall. After your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw her. The lone decoration of the room. A poster of 1961's Breakfast at Tiffany's, Audrey Hepburn's face faded and discolored with time. The more you stared, the more you recognized this room. You knew where you were. And worst of all, you knew exactly what day this was.

With almost perfect timing, the metal door slide open with angry force. Three armored men burst into the room, as you heard something shuffle itself across the floor. You didn't even notice her at first.

A girl, shoved up into the corner of the wall, head hanging over the chamber pot as she wiped the bile off her mouth. Your memory was fuzzy, but she couldn't have been older than 17 at the time. With short, flat, oily, botched up hair. Wires were bursting out of her neck and down her back, connecting her to a running machine in the wall for vitals.

You. An older one.

The most notable feature was her frame. You would expect someone in this situation to look malnourished, seconds away from death. On the contrary, uncanny muscles were bulging out of her arms and upper back, like they were clawing to be let out. A product of the treatment, like a sumo wrestler on steroids.

The men rushed over to that version of you, ripping the wires out of her neck and latching on a power damper collar in their place. That collar itself was an omen. Can't torture the girl who can absorb the pain and shoot it back out. You'd just be throwing fuel onto the fire.

They forced younger you up to your feet as their superior walked into your room. You could feel your heart stop in your chest as you searched in desperation for a way out. You called out for Bob, Yelena, anyone at all. Almost like your mind was in tune with your decisions, the metal door slammed shut just before you could run out. You leaned your head on the door, not bearing to look, barely standing to listen.

Your old superior examined younger you and the rest of the room, the poster in particular. He smiled sadistically at it. "A real stunner she was, eh?" You scoffed at his words while younger you darted her eyes away. In one swift movement, he ripped the poster down to reveal a makeshift hole halfway into the wall. Your escape route. Taking a deep breath, you finally turned around to face the incoming carnage.

"You think you're smart huh?" the man asked her. Younger you tilted her head up, looking him straight in the eyes, too worn down to care what would happen to her. He smirked. Her silence was enough of an answer. He snapped at his employees, one of them slamming the butt of his gun into her temple in response. You couldn't help but flinch.

The superior slide open the metal door again, as his pawns dragged her unconscious body out the door, while you closely followed. The harsh hospital lights left a sting to your eyes as you traveled through your mind's endless hallways. Finally, you reached the chamber. The door slide open to reveal a dentist chair and an array of instruments littered throughout the room.

The men placed her down into the chair, one of them injecting a serum into her arm to wake her up. Younger you shot awake, pulled down by different leather restraints. Bile filled your mouth as you were reduced to being so helpless to just watch. A doctor followed into the room soon after the six of you, his face burned into your mind.

He took two long prongs, pinching them onto the skin of her elbow, and turned on a machine to send out electrical shocks. After a signal from the commander, he sent out the first wave. You couldn't help but turn your head away, holding back your own tears as phantom pains of remembrance ripped through your skin.

The worst part of all of this was how younger you barely struggled at all, only letting out blood curdling screams of pain. She had accepted her fate hours ago, knowing this was inevitable. Why fight it. It would only make it worse. It made you sick to your stomach. How much she had given up at this point.

A pause in the shocks. You turned your head back to see the commander walking up to the girl, sticking his face down to her's. "You knew this was going to happen?" The girl nodded her head slowly, with the energy she had left. He scoffed. "Then you're dumber than I thought." He stepped back again and signaled for the second wave.

Not baring to take it again, you went against your own judgement and rushed between the men, ripping the prongs off of the girl's body. You met her eyes for a split second.

Behind the numbness, you could see her fear. Roaring underneath the surface.

Before you could sense the rest, you felt a slam into your own temple, knocking you down to the floor. You looked up to see all the men looking at you now, the first time they had done so. The commander pushed past them, staring you down. He crouched down to your level, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear as you shuddered. "Still the same dumb girl I see," he smirked.

In a split second, he grabbed your arm, attaching one of the prongs to it, as the still working machine sent hundreds of volts into your arm in a split second, slicing through your nerves.

~~~~

Before you had time to react to the pain, your body in the real world roared back to life, as you screamed and coughed to catch your breath. You found yourself sitting down in the middle of the kitchen as your hands scrambled all over the ground as you hyperventilated, trying to ground yourself. "Woah, woah, woah, easy, I got you, you're safe now!" You looked up and finally noticed Yelena sitting on the ground in front of you. She had both hands placed on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes to help you center yourself. You frantically looked around the room, finding the other team members close by, staring at you. Eventually, you found Bob, walking out of the room with Bucky close on his tail. You wanted to talk to him, knowing he was probably upset too, but you had bigger things on your mind.

"I.....I..." You couldn't get the words out. Before you could try again, Yelena softly pulled you into a hug, that you returned very quickly. "You're good now, okay?" she asked. You nodded gently into her shoulder. With more deep breaths and a few tears, you eventually were brought back down. You pulled out of the hug, and began to stand on your feet.

"Yelena, I told you I needed the team up to the helicopter deck in five minutes, do you guys take pleasure in disobeying me or wha-." Valentina bursted out of the elevator, rambling on about what they were probably discussing in the meeting. She only paused after noticing the obvious tension in the room. She looked at you, hunched over and mascara running down your face. "Well what happened to you this time?"

~~~~~~~

The ambient blue glow of the tv washed over your face, as your eyes glazed over the screen. In the few hours since the incident, the team decided it was best for you to sit out on this mission. So you had cooped yourself up in your room, trying anything to distract your mind from going back to that place. Every now and again, you'd hear light pacing footsteps in the hallway outside your door.

You hadn't spoken to Bob since you went under. He hadn't made any attempts to apologize yet. Yelena said it would probably take some time and she would talk to him as soon as she got back. You didn't want to wait until then to make things right, but knowing how fragile both of you were at the moment, you didn't want to accidentally make anything worse.

When the footsteps finally stopped, you sat up a little bit in your bed. Three soft knocks followed. You paused. "Come in." It wasn't him.

Ava gave you a soft "Hi" before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "How was the mission?" you asked her. She shrugged her shoulders. "More of the same really, you didn't miss much." She gave a little hop onto your bed, laying down on her stomach next to you. "How you feeling?" You gave a little sigh to her. "A little better. I just think I need time." She nodded at your response, and gently held your hand. "You need me, you know where to find me, okay?" You smiled and nodded at her kind gesture. Ava put up a front with the rest of the time, teasing many of the others and acting nonchalant. But something else came out in her around you. That little girl, normally shoved under years of pain and killing.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked her. "Of course." You took a deep breath in and looked her in the eye. "Back when....he took over New York, what did you see?" Ava took a minute to think to herself. "Well, I went through three different rooms to find Bob and Yelena at the center." You adjusted yourself to a more comfortable, open position, trying to create a more welcoming energy in the room as Ava got vulnerable with you. "First room was with my parents and how I got....this way." She took off one of her gloves from her suit, showing her hand phasing between multiple quantum planes at once. A painful experience, she described it as. "Second room was one of my first missions with S.H.I.E.L.D., I had to take out an unarmed doctor."

She twiddled with her fingers, looking down as she picked at the nails. "Last one was a fight I had with an old friend.....he was trying to protect me from....myself I guess....said a lot of things I regret." You frowned down at her, placing a hand on her back to rub it in condolences. "That Bill guy you were talking about earlier, right?" She nodded. "But anyways, I've learned not to dwell on it anymore. My life is different now." She looked up at you. "All of ours are now." You nodded in acknowledgment.

"We're never gonna let those bastards get you again. Can you trust me on that?" She held your face between her hands. You nodded. She looked at you deeper. "I can. All of you," you verbalized. She sat up and pulled you in tightly for a hug. Ava was your best friend. You could trust her more than anyone else here on that.

As she pulled away, she cleared her throat. "Can I ask you a question now?" You nodded. "Do you blame Bob for what happened?"

You took a second.

"No." Ava raised an eyebrow at you. "I really don't." "Okay good, just making sure." You smiled at her. "Is Yelena talking to him?" "She's gonna try to at least," Ava sighed. "He's gonna be like this for a while. Scampery, avoidant. We've learned it's best to let him work through it." You nodded. "But he's gonna be okay, right?" Ava looked up at you, slight confusion in her eyebrows. "Yeah....." You nodded. "Okay....good."

Ava sat in silence for a little bit. "You care more about him being okay than you being okay?" You looked at her, clogs turning in your mind. "When you put it like that, I guess." She looked even more confused now. "Why?"

.....

"I don't know."

~~~~~~~

The next few days were spent with you trying to answer that question for yourself. You and Bob's relationship before this was never a super close one. You always naturally kept a distance from each other. It didn't make much of a difference if things went back to normal from this or not. So why did it matter? Why did it matter if he started talking to you again? Because man did you want him to again. And badly too.

It was like he was playing a prank on you at this point. Every time you would enter a room he was in too, he would find some excuse to leave, leaving you with a sour taste in your mouth. You knew the other team members noticed it too, because you would see one of them usually follow out of the room with him to confront him. You didn't want him to take the blame for this. You knew he was just taking this healing stage at his own pace. But man did you just wish his pace would go a little faster.

At least he wouldn't go on missions with you guys, then you'd really be screwed.

You tended to forget a very important fact because of that.

"Val needs you all downstairs in an hour, there's that press conference about the rebranding today." You could hear Mel talking to the group from your cracked bedroom door. You had been snooping in there, since Bob was in the control room outside with everyone else. "Bob, she wants you there too this time, says the more members there in support, the better."

Shit.

You could hear his whiny groan from your room. "Do I have to?" "Unless you wanna tell Val yourself." That must've been a huge wake up call for him, cause you could hear him rush your way to his room to get ready. He made split second eye contact with you before closing the door. Your heart almost broke with the swiftness his eyes darted away.

You closed your door and started getting ready yourself before you had to take orders from anyone. Most press meetings required a more casual, business attire. Ones like this however, required full glam, full hair, and full costume. You were particularly fast at the getting ready process, especially since you didn't have a thousand gun holsters you had to fasted on, unlike your other team members.

Your costume was also fairly simple. With the nature of your powers, your previous suits had a knack for getting the sleeves torn off, so you decided to replace that design with a simple, black, mock neck bodysuit. Your pants were standard black cargo pants, multiple pockets in case you needed any physical weapons on you in an emergency. They were tied off with a pair of heavy duty combat boots.

For press conferences, Valentina usually requested you to go the most glam with hair and makeup out of the group, since the other two girls were slightly opposed to it. So once that was finally done, you walked out of your room into the control deck, ready to go.

You usually sat there for a good amount of time by yourself, until one of the guys would join you. But this time, Yelena was the first one out after you, albeit half dressed, in the middle of doing her eyeliner, and a makeup bag in her hand.

She looked at you, slightly distressed. "What's up?" you asked. She clenched her teeth. "You're gonna say no, I know it." "Can you just ask me?" She took in a deep sigh. "Can you help Bob with his hair and makeup?" It took every bone in your body not to burst out laughing at her request.

For Valentina and the press, everyone in the tower had to be dressed up. Including the guys. Not too much, but some to cover up most of their "tough guy" looks. Almost like a stage makeup of sorts. The stylists you guys had were always wrangled up with Alexei and Walker, always opposed to the idea and needing extra support, so Yelena would take care of Bob's and Bucky would handle his own.

"I'm already running behind and Val wants Barnes and I down early to practice responses." You looked at her, baffled. "And Ava can't do it?" Yelena raised her eyebrows at you. "It's a miracle Ava can do her own." True, unfortunately. "Yelena, you're kidding me right?" She walked closer to the couch you were sitting at. "He's a grown man, can't he do it himself?" "Yes, but unfortunately he's also a very slow learner too." You shook your head to yourself. "Have you even been in the tower for the past week, he won't even look at me right now," you whispered. She sighed to herself. "I know I know, and this would be a one time thing I promise, I just really need the help right now."

You leaned back into the couch and washed your hands over your face. "And not to be an instigator, but I think it would help you two also." You snorted at her sentence, taking your hands off your eyes to see how serious her face was. You took a deep breath and thought it over for a second or two. "Fine," you gave her, deadpanned. "But you owe me so much right now." Yelena let out a sigh of relief. "I really do, thank you." She dropped the makeup bag, presumably filled with the tools you'd need, in your lap, and bolted towards her room.

~~~~~

The door to the room loomed over your head, seemingly getting taller with every passing second you stood in front of it. Biting the bullet, you finally gave four slight knocks on his door, the same knock Yelena used for all of you. Yes, it was a bit of a trick, but you knew he wouldn't have let you in otherwise. You heard a soft, kind "Come in" from the other side of the door that made your heart warm up ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. Your heart froze up again when you saw the way his smile dropped when you walked in. He was dressed in his usual attire for conferences, a pressed, slightly too big for him, tuxedo with dress shoes. But of course, his hair was in its natural, shaggy mess and you could spot any upcoming pimples from a mile away. Your job for the afternoon.

"What ar-" "Before you kick me out can I explain!" you jumped in before he could interject. He waited a second before nodding. "Yelena had to go downstairs early and doesn't have the time to get you ready, and before you ask, yes everyone else is too busy, and yes, I am your last resort."

His eyes darted away from you and to the ground, the most of an invitation over as you were gonna get. You took a seat on his partially made bed, observing the rest of his room. It took you a second to remember that you've never been in here before. It was a lot cleaner than you expected it to be. Then again, he spent almost all of his time in the tower, so he had a lot more time to clean than the rest of you did.

There were scattered band posters on the dark blue walls of the room, and a few collected rocks lying on his T.V. stand. You opened up the bag and took out his hair gel first. Val liked his long, overgrown hair to be slicked back for press events. You squirted some of the gel on your hands and lathered it deep into them.

When you went for his hair though, he moved his head slightly back away from you. You immediately put your hands down in response. "Okay, let's get this straight now," you snapped. "I get you're mad at me for whatever reason, but I'm not gonna take this from you right now, especially when I'm trying to help you. So either grow the fuck up, or you can do it yourself, okay?" His eyes widened a little bit. You were never the mean type towards anyone on the team, but when your limits were tested like this, you had no choice but to respond.

Putting back any feelings he had, he straightened up and leaned closer into you. "Thank you," you responded. "I'll be quick, I promise. Out of your bubble in no time." Your hands tangled into his hair, pushing the light brown strands back in straight lines. Before it would get tangled in by the gel, you could feel how soft his hair was. Even if it was overgrown, you could tell he took pride in it.

As you pushed his hair back into a makeshift mullet, making sure the gel wasn't ruining his curls at the bottom, you noticed something. Just out of your peripherals, you could see his eyes, darting every which way. They couldn't stay still for more than a second. Sometimes they would be at your shoulders, at your legs, your hair. Most of the time though, they were trying to find where you weren't. But each time, they would land magnetically back to you.

You couldn't help but let out a little laugh to yourself, a little breath out of your nose. "What?" Bob reflexively asked. You smiled and shook your head. "I really don't get you, man." His brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Finally finished with his hair, you untangled your hands and brought them back to you, his eyes following them. "Bob, you're scared shitless of me."

A glow of pink wiped over his cheeks. "N-no I'm not." You laughed right in his face, as you went into the makeup bag and pulled out primer, foundation, and concealer. You squeezed lines of primer from the bottle onto his face. Before you could use your hands to rub it in though, he quickly grabbed your wrist again. Same way as before. You froze for a second before you realized, nothing was happening. You weren't going back in. You realized why when you looked at Bob's face, focused now more than you had ever seen before.

Your face and demeanor softened. "Bob." His face turned to yours, fear glazing over his eyes, trying desperately to keep the void from taking you again. You took his calloused fingers in your hands, peeling them away from your wrist and holding it with your own. You looked into his deep blue eyes, almost lost in them.

"I'm not scared of you."

His breath shook at your words, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes slightly water up. "I never have been. And I don't plan on changing that." The tension in his body melted away at those magic words. His lips pursed inwards as he looked down at your hands intertwined. "Can you trust me on that?" He gave a slight nod to you. You took his chin to your hand and pulled it up to look at you. His eyes were fully watery now. "Can you?" It took him a second.

".....I can."

You smiled at him.

"Thank you," he whispered. You closed your eyes and nodded to him. "You're welcome." The two of you sat for a moment like this, hands tangled in each other and observing each other's faces. You noticed how large his hands were. You never really considered your hands as small either, so the fact they were still much bigger than yours surprised you. They were restless as well, constantly moving between your own fingers, like they were getting a feel for how yours were. This was the most you had ever seen him before, in more ways than one.

Eventually, you let his hand go and cleared your throat. "Let's get you ready now, I'd rather avoid an earful from Val after the conference." Bob nodded and sat up straight again, as you rubbed the primer into his face with your thumbs. His slightly stubbled chin tickled the pads of your fingers in an almost hypnotic notion. Before you even knew it, your hands were staying caressing his face. Bob didn't seem to mind it, his eyes slowly closing, and even leaning his face into your touch further.

The two of you immediately snapped out of it at the sound of Bob's door slamming open. Mel stood at the door, panting, hand leaning against the frame for support. "What the hell is taking so long?" she asked frantically. "Uhhhhhh." The lack of an answer you two could come up with only angered her more. She rolled her eyes and pointed to you. "Get downstairs, I'll finish up with him." You looked back to Bob, smiled, gave his cheek a quick pat as you stood up and walked out the door.

Before Mel closed the door behind you, you caught Bob's eyes, hypnotically following you. As if he was searching for you. For more.

~~~~~~

Something shifted between the two of you after that day. No more avoidance. You found Bob coming to you for anything now. Whether he was having one of his bad days, needed help cleaning something up, or even if he just wanted to watch a movie with someone. Equally, you found yourself going to him for almost anything. Almost.

The main difference between the two of you was Bob had told you everything about him. You knew him like a book. Every page studied and memorized. But when he would ask you something about your past, you always managed to slither out of the question. You didn't mean to be so secretive around him. It was more of a reflex at this point. You'd done it with everyone. He was included in that group.

You could tell it hurt him though. Knowing there was some part of you that either didn't trust him enough to know, or maybe just didn't want him to know at all. Hopefully with time you'd be able to open up, not just to him, to everyone. But that's all the two of you could do for now. Hope.

A sign of that coming close had finally appeared, a new impulse crossing your mind. Dating.

For obvious reasons, relationships had never been a top priority for you. But as things were slowing down in your life, you began to feel left out of the "dating in NYC" craze. Without much experience under your belt, you decided to go through the dating app route. That proved to be more challenging than you thought. "I don't think men on here have ever had a conversation with a woman before," you'd complain to Bob or Ava constantly, usually followed by a large eye roll from them.

Lightning seemed to have struck though. On your way home from grocery shopping, you managed to bump into a guy at your bus stop. It was something straight out of a movie, the way the wind knocked of your cap and he had managed to catch it for you. The two of you spent the entire bus ride talking, and he eventually asked you for your number once you reached your stop. Tonight was date night. He had planned a special dinner in the city, and the two of you would go dancing after.

"Are you sure this guy's not like some stalker or something? You are a superhero after all, there's weird fans all over the city," Ava protested. Her and Bob were sitting in your room as you got ready. She sat on your light yellow beanbag on the floor, tossing a crumpled up paper with the address to the restaurant on it into the air. Bob was laying down on your bed, extra quiet today for some reason, staring up at the ceiling.

"He's not, I promise, Bob saw him too, he can vouch for me," you waved her off, looking in your mirror trying to do your makeup. You could see Ava look to Bob behind you through the mirror. She raised her eyebrow at him, which he just shrugged off. "I'd just prefer you not get kidnapped tonight, so try to avoid that if you can," she turned back to you. "Ava, if he's a normal citizen, I'll have zero problems defending myself, if anything happens," you defended. You sprayed some setting spray onto your face, and got up to change into your outfit.

Your bedroom had an attached bathroom, so you went in there to change. Once you closed the door, you took off your current sweats and baggy turtleneck sweater and slipped on your outfit. Your date asked you to go a little more formal than normal first date, so you specially picked out your outfit from your closet: a black boat-neckline midi dress, with a little thigh slit for less formal environments. It was gifted to you a few years back, but you hadn't worn it since. There was one glaring issue you noticed.

Throughout your time in the lab, you had obviously developed some scars. You didn't mind most of them, being electrocution scars, which made for some pretty cool war stories. Photoshoot photographers were particular fans of those. Some scars, however, weren't exactly your favorites. The specific one being a thick, prominent scar, starting at your right collarbone and trailing up to the back of your neck. It was fairly recent, compared to the rest of your scars, so the fading process was far from beginning. It was part of the reason you stuck to turtleneck fashion so much. But with this dress here, it was finally out in the open, something you weren't so sure you were comfortable with.

After convincing yourself though, you were willing to bite the bullet if it meant looking all dolled up for once. After a final examination in the bathroom mirror, you took a step out the door to show off to your friends. Both of them seemed to jump back to the positions they were in before you walked into the bathroom, almost like they were gossiping girls before. But once they noticed you, the air in the room stopped.

Ava was the first one to give out a little supportive holler when you stepped out, getting a little giggle from you. "What are you waiting for, give us a twirl!" she shouted. Obliging, you gave a little curtsey and spin. Turning to Bob, you could see a little smile curling up from this mouth. "So, what do you think?" you asked him, hoping for some words out of him today. "You look beautiful. Really really beautiful." There was a slight tint of melancholy in his words. You believed what he said, that was sincere. But his smile was actively lying to you.

His eyes spoke the truth though. You watched him as his eyes traced the way your dress hugged your body, highlighting all the beautiful parts of you, leaving little to the imagination. You saw his eyes stop at your collarbone, and his smile faded away. Just before you could see his mouth open to ask about it, you jumped right in. "Well, I better get going, I don't wanna miss my train," you frantically said, grabbing your kitten heels and strapping them on.

Ava and Bob followed you out of your room and towards the elevator out of the tower. Ava gave you a tight hug, whispering a little "Text me if you think he's a killer," before letting go. Bob's body seemed to stutter a little bit before giving you a hug. He had been more in control of the void spreading through his touch, but he was still cautious over it. His hugs always felt like home. The way he would squeeze you just the right amount and how well your chin fit into the crook of his neck. His hand sat comfortably just above your hips, with always his pinky finger straying a bit lower and tracing your upper thigh. When he let go he stayed close to you for a second, his eyes just slightly lower than where yours were. "Be safe, okay?' he asked with full sincerity. You nodded and let go just before getting into the elevator. "I will."

~~~~~~~

You rested your back against the elevator, back at the tower and up to your room after the long night. You checked your phone for a time. 2:24 am. Hopefully everyone else would be asleep when you got back.

The date wasn't bad. Not at all. In fact, it was one of the better ones you could remember going on. Dinner was nice and you went down to this jazz bar for some dancing. He walked you back to the tower and the two of you even shared a quick kiss.

So why did you feel so....weird? The circumstances were perfect for a second date. You like the guy, you really did. But something about him kept you from getting truly comfortable with him that night. The little things. The way he insisted to the waiter on splitting the bill, the way you had to stop every taxi for the two of you, the way he'd cut off your sentences. The way he couldn't stop looking at the scar poisoning your neck. That one really got you.

Maybe it was just your anxiety highlighting it, but it seemed every time his eyes would trail away from yours, they would land right on that scar. Like he was trying to subconsciously let you know it was there. As if you didn't have to take the work to try and cover it up every day of your life. That irked you most of all. You felt awful about it, it wasn't his fault it was there. But no matter how hard you tried, whenever you thought about going on a second date with him, you couldn't erase the look in his eyes out of your mind.

As you examined it in the mirror in the elevator, the doors slid open to an empty living room and kitchen floor. You wiped the tiredness off of your face and turned on a dim overhead lamp, setting your purse on the kitchen island to grab a quick water bottle. Your ears perked up when you heard some stirring from the couch area. Following the noise arose a head of shaggy brown hair. Your face softened and smile lifted when you saw his head turn around to find you. "Hi," you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Bob replied with a sleepy "Hey," eyes still lowered.

"Whatcha doing out here, shouldn't you be in bed?" you asked, walking over to the couch. "Couldn't sleep...came out here to city watch and try to get sleepy." Your head turned to the massive windows overlooking the night city, still so alive. Bob let out a small yawn and reached his arm over to where you were standing. You took his hand, allowing him to guide you over to sit next to him on the couch. His position was slouched and comfortable, still half asleep. He rested his head into your shoulder, sending a little nervous shiver into you. "How was it?" he asked, eyes closing. You sighed. "Good." He chuckled under his breath. "What's that for?" you asked, pointing your eyes down to him. "Someone who went on a good date wouldn't just say it was 'good'," he slyly slurred out. Maybe this is why you never see Bob right after he wakes up. This Bob was kind of an asshole.

"What, can I not go on a date that's just 'good'?" you asked, getting slightly mad with him. "Someone as special as you shouldn't have to lower herself to going on dates that are just 'good'." The words trailed off in volume on the way out, almost like he didn't even know they came out in the first place. But you managed to catch them. And they sent butterflies down into your stomach, a pink glow to your cheeks, and a stupid grin to your mouth.

You looked down at him, resting on your shoulder. His body leaned perfectly into yours, filling all the empty space with his own. His delicate hands rested in his lap while his eyelashes tickled the upper parts of his cheek. And his hair, his beautiful hair, curled perfectly at the ends, grazing against the back of your neck with the air of The Watchtower. You could fall asleep with him here for days, in perfect, complete serenity.

"So why was it just 'good'?" he finally asked after what seemed like minutes of silence. You thought to yourself. "Cause I'm not gonna go on a second date." He lifted his head off of your shoulder and looked at him, with a slight concern on his droopy face. "Did something happen?" "No no no, I promise," you quickly shut down the idea. "It's just....." He sat more at attention, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up more. You both turned to look at each other, the sides of your faces resting on the couch cushions. "He was fine, great even....I just...." You tried to find the words to describe what you were feeling. "C'mon honey, talk to me," Bob slipped out, in a deep, sleepy voice that sent waves through you.

"I can't see him being able to deal with me," you finally spoke. "What makes you think that?" You sighed. You sat up a little bit and pulled your hair back behind your neck and lifted up your chin. "You saw this earlier right?" Bob gave a soft hum and a nod in response. "I got this a while back, back when I was still in the labs you saw in my nightmare." His eyes focused in on the scar, trying to make it out with the little light in the room. "I wanted to ask earlier, but I didn't wanna upset you," he spoke. "I know you don't like talking about it." You smiled a little at his ability to know you so well.

"Well, on one of the missions I was sent on back there, I got injured real bad. Broke my clavicle and they could only fix it through surgery. But I wouldn't necessarily call their doctors 'top of the line', so the cleanup was messy." You brushed your hair back onto the scar to cover it up. "One of the many souvenirs they gave me," you attempted to joke. Bob smiled a little bit at it, but was still focused on your skin. "Anyways, I don't like looking at it much, it's one of my uglier scars, and when other people catch it, I can't help but worry about what they're thinking."

"What d'you think he was thinking about?" Bob asked, slouching his head back into the couch to secretly admire you. You slouched back too. "About how much of a piece of work I'm gonna be," you chuckled out, even if the thought made you wanna cry. You could see that same sadness in Bob's eyes as they trailed up to your eyes. You sighed and looked away from him to the window outside. "This is why I don't date," you joked, wiping your face.

"Hey." You looked back at him. "Can I do something I'm gonna regret once I'm more awake?" You raised an eyebrow at the suspicious statement. "Okay." He sat a little closer to you, bringing up a hand to your hair, looking to you for approval. You gave him a soft hum as he pulled the hair behind your neck again, and softly traced his thumb over the scar, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

As gently as he could, he brought his face closer and pressed his lips softly onto your clavicle. Your breath hitched, causing him to bring his face back again. His eyes bore into yours, ready to give an apology if you requested. But your hand encouraged his actions, tangling into the back of his hair and pushing his lips back in.

Bob's lips danced over your scar, as your breath got heavier and hands tugged on his roots in approval. His hands found their way to your hips, caressing you in all the right spots. You fought to keep in any sounds your mouth wanted to let out from his touch. But right as you could feel yourself getting to the good part, Bob placed his final kiss, releasing you as well. You rested your head back as Bob stood up from the couch, lending a hand out to you. "It's late, we can talk more tomorrow, but you need your rest for now." Bob almost seemed to snap out of whatever lustful spell was just over him. Or maybe you took what just happened the wrong way. You tried to process it in your head as you took his hand and stood up with him.

Hand in hand, he led you to your room. As he opened the door and let you inside, he leaned over you on the door frame with one more message: "If a man looks at you and his first thought is of is how much work you'll be, he's no man at all."

~~~~~~~~

His words stuck in your heart for the next few days as the two of you tried to pretend that nothing happened. Drowsy Bob was right, Awake Bob apologized to you profusely the next morning, claiming he had no idea what came over him that night. "....I didn't mind it," you confessed after his apology. Made him blush faster than you thought was humanly possible. After a long, embarrassingly awkward conversation, the two of you decided on an agreement.

Whenever you were feeling bad about yourself, physically specifically, you could go to his room and he'd help you....feel better. You weren't fuck buddies, that was for sure. You just happened to be friends who'd kiss each other's bodies multiple times a week. And it made you absolutely insane.

You couldn't even go to Ava about this, since you and Bob agreed it was best if this was a secretive thing. Truth is, this whole ordeal was making you obsessed with the guy. You couldn't get him out of your head. Him being your roommate only made things worse. You couldn't escape from him. You'd never wanted someone this much before, it was driving you mad.

All the problems in relationships you felt before seemed to disappear with him. Since that night, you found yourself opening up more and more to him. You knew each chapter of each other's lives. And that made you really fucking happy. Having someone you could trust with yourself utterly, wholly, and completely.

The late nights where he'd do nothing but kiss and hold you, like he knew the magic of his touch. But you were greedy. You needed more of him, but all the uncertainty just got in the way.

You knew this wasn't just a thing "friends" did. But not knowing the exact details of how he felt for you kept you from asking for more. What if this was something friends did in his mind? What if the only thing he felt for you was based in lust? You'd rather not have that potentially friendship ruining conversation, so you decided to take the "suffer in silence" route instead.

That wasn't your biggest worry at the moment though. No, that spot in your mind was currently being overshadowed by the bullet wound in your side. You weren't gonna die, your powers would take care of that step for you, but it still hurt like a bullet wound. You'd spent a couple hours on the medbay floor of The Watchtower getting patched up, now on your way up to join the rest of the team.

The minute the elevator doors opened, you were greeted by a giant hug from Alexei, shouting Russian expressions of joy. As endearing as it was, you had to have the rest of the team peel him off of you, as he was two seconds away from opening up your stitches. Once you caught your breath, you greeted the rest of the team, all glad for your recovery. Your smile dropped a little, after scanning the members in the room. "Where's Bob?" you asked. "His therapist wanted to extend his session a little bit today," Bucky answered. You nodded a little to yourself. "You know when he'll be back?" you asked, trying not to sound too needy. "Soon enough," Yelena giggled.

....

"Does he know about..." you gestured to your bandages, slightly pink from any leftover blood. In almost miracle timing, Bob stepped out of the elevator and into your conversation. "Hey, what's-," he started, before looking at you clutching your side. His eyes widened with fear. "Oh my god what happened?!" he shouted, rushing over to you. "It's fine, I'm fine, I just didn't dodge very well today and someone caught me off guard." In combat, you usually tried to avoid the gunslingers and sword masters for hand-to-hand instead. You got more energy from absorbing bullet wounds and cuts, but on a pain scale, you'd rather deal with working up multiple punches to the nose.

As Bob questioned your pain scale, it almost seemed as if the other teammates were slowly leaving the room one by one, until only you two were left in it. The two of you naturally made your way to the couch and talked about your days for what seemed like hours. You went over battle strategies, he debriefed about his appointment. Eventually, noticing the sun going down, you started to become aware of all the dirt and blood still sticking to your body. "Um, can I use your tub? I need to get the day off me before I start peeling my skin off," you joked, standing up off of the couch. "Sure, whatever you need," he insisted, getting up with you. The only teammates with bathtubs instead of showers in their rooms were Bob and Bucky, and in all honesty, you just wanted to be near Bob's presence right now.

The mixture of dried blood, sweat, and dirt stuck your suit straight onto your skin as you made a painful attempt to peel it off. You dropped the clothes to the floor, and examined the damage in your mirror, unraveling all your littered bandages. Your stitches seemed to be doing okay, but the rest of the little cuts and bruises on you made themselves apparent. Your powers were useful in the moment, but damn did the aftercare suck.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you walked over to Bob's room, leaving a soft knock on the door. A freshly bathed Bob opened up the door, now in his own baggy pajamas, his curls still wet and dripping. "I just wanted a to take a quick soak before you got in, I got a new round of hot water running for you." You gave him a little smile and stepped inside; he closed the door behind you. "Thanks." You walked into the steaming bathroom, tub filled to the brim with hot water like he said. Bob's bathroom was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled just like him; eucalyptus and peppermint oil, incense cones, and a touch of his cologne. It calmed you down almost immediately, and enough for you to ask your question.

"Can you...uh...help me while I'm in there?" you nervously asked. He raised his eyebrow a little bit at the question. "I-It just hurts to turn a little and I need to reach some spots on my back." He looked you over while he deliberated. "I don't wanna sound rude or anything but...you sure you're okay with me....seeing you?" he whispered that last little part. "I'm wearing a bathing suit under here, I don't mind you seeing that at least," you replied, anticipating his concern. "Oh....okay, yeah sure," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

You dropped your towel and placed it hanging over the sink. The black bikini you were wearing covered enough of you, but still allowed all your injuries to be visible. That first step into the tub was heavenly, the heat rolling down off your spine with a slight, but welcome tinge of pain. You closed your eyes and melted down into the water, Bob smiling at your relaxation. "God, I needed this," you breathed out. Bob walked up closer to you, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You sat there for a minute, body absorbing the heat and releasing the built up tension in your muscles from the day. Once you finally opened your eyes, you found Bob's eyes grazing over your body. "What is it?" you asked. A stupid grin found its way to his face, as he readjusted himself to begin helping you. "Nothing, don't worry."

Bob took a nearby loofa and his body wash, about to squeeze some onto it before you put your hand out. "This is gonna sound weird....can you use your hands?" You didn't bother giving an explanation, it wouldn't change the implications of that request. Bob gave a little nod. "Wait just, give me a sec." He quickly got up out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sat there within your own thoughts. Fuck, was that too much? you thought to yourself, praying you didn't scare him off.

After a few anxious minutes, Bob opened up the door, leaving you with a sight that made your heart stop.

He had traded in his pajamas for a pair of swim shorts. You had to fight to keep your jaw from going slack at the sight of him without a shirt on. He wasn't kidding, that serum really did do a lot of work.

First of all, you had seen his arm muscles before, frequently on display whenever he would wear a short sleeve shirt. But paired with his perfectly plumped chest, carved abs, and toned thighs, it was enough to kill a horse. Worst of all however, was his swim boxers, with a very flawed detail: they were about two sizes too small, and you couldn't tell if Bob was aware or not, but you could see it. It was bigger than you thought. You would need a tranquilizer to hide the blush on your face right now.

"I figured it'd be easier to just get in and help, and this is my only pair of trunks.....is it too much?" So he didn't know, huh. You swallowed back any urges you had and sat up a little bit more in the tub. "No, you're fine," you said, pushing your body back to make room for him in the small tub. He shuffled up and gently placed his legs in one by one, sinking in in front of you.

Bob took the body wash again, pouring some and lathering it between his hands. He motioned you to turn around so he could get your back area. Your back showed him about five scattered cuts and scratches and two large bruises by your lats. You could hear his breath shake a bit as he got closer to you. Naturally, you straightened out your back for him to work with a better canvas.

A sigh instinctively came out of your mouth when his hands came down on you, lathering the soap over your skin. His hands worked into you like putty, spreading the bubbles out evenly onto you. The callouses scratched onto your skin, and you felt a deep heat brewing into your chest. It only grew stronger when his fingers started digging into your muscles. Pain oozed out and away as his thumbs worked out the knots in your upper back. You had to bring a hand up to your mouth to keep a pleasurably moan from slipping out.

The deeper his fingers got into you, the more your body began to twitch, itching for more. The water sloshed around a little when you began to move back into him. And thats when you felt it. Your breath hitched when you caught it. He was achingly big, and you could tell by the throbbing you felt on your lower back. He must've noticed you felt it, since his fingers stopped moving. The two of you sat there for a minute in a hot tension.

Eventually, he picked up a cup sitting outside of the tub, filled it with the bathwater, and poured the soap off of your back. Putting it down, he inched slightly closer to you, his hands finding their way again back to your hips like so many times before. "Tell me where it hurts," he whispered into your ear. You tried to shake out your shivers and be honest with him, your mind needing him in one place but your body wanting him everywhere.

You took the safe route. You needed to keep control of yourself. As long as you could at least.

You pointed to a spot along your spine where one of the bruises lay. "Bend forward a little bit," he spoke, in that low, sultry voice again, almost commanding you. You listened. You moved. But unfortunately, you couldn't keep the moan inside you anymore when his lips grazed and kissed over the bruise. You could keep it quiet enough for him to, hopefully, not hear it however.

Your body adjusted and moved to fit him as his lips trailed up your spine, and eventually to the nape of your neck. He sucked on the tender skin, desperation in its trail. Before he could get too carried away though, he pulled himself off of you. His hot breath stuck to your back, as he took a moment to splash some of the steaming water onto his face. After clearing his throat, he asked you to turn back around and face him, which you did of course.

Finding his face, you could finally see the display of his emotions. The main one: a drunken look in his eyes to desperately hide a growing lust. You could tell. It was the same look in yours. Trying to continue with the bath, Bob took some more body was and drizzled it out onto your arms and upper chest. Sure, you could reach those parts of yourself fine, but what's wrong with letting a man take care of you every once in a while. And if this was how he was gonna do it, you'd be glad to give in.

He massaged the soap into your skin again, relaxing your tense arm muscles, a little gentler around your chest and collarbone area. He pressed a deep kiss into your clavicle scar, a tick for him at this point. His eyes stayed down on you, examining the way your skin fit onto your body. You brought your hand to meet his, currently pressing gentle circles onto your tricep. His eyes found a nice spot, staring at your lips, with you back at his. Trembles started to infect his hands and you could even see a slight quiver stain his lip.

"Does it hurt...anywhere here?" he gasped out. Taking the opportunity, you slowly brought your finger up to the tiniest cut you had on your chin. Smiling, he went in, almost taking your entire chin into his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his neck as his mouth moved to press sloppy kisses into your jawline. But that's all where he stayed. And you needed more than that.

Enough with the teasing, you let go of his neck and took his face in your hands, pulling his mouth away from you. He looked at you, beautiful, deep blue puppy eyes mixed with questioning and fear. "Do you remember what I told you Bob? When I was helping you get ready for the conference?" The fear left his eyes, as he realized what you were playing with here. "Remind me...." You smirked at his words. "When are you ever gonna stop being afraid of me?" you asked, eyes glued to his lips. He dropped his head and let out a defeated laugh. "It's never been you that I'm scared of....it's always been myself," he said, lifting his head back up and closer to yours. "And why's that?" The corner of his mouth lifted up as his hand went to cup your jaw, caressing it with his thumb. "Because I have to keep myself from tearing off my clothes and taking you in the living room each time you walk through that elevator."

Before you could respond to what he said, your body started moving on its own, slamming your lips into his, sloshing water everywhere. The kiss you shared was needy, hungry, and slow. Different from the ones he left littered over your body in the past. What surprised you the most about it was what fueled it. This was not a lustful kiss, which is what you had expected from him. This kiss was filled with a pure, tender, and firing love the two of you have silently shared for each other for the past few months.

His hands wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer into him and onto his laugh, where his raging erection made itself more apparent by the second. "You need me that bad, huh?" you teased, breaking away from the makeout and grinding your clothed cunt against it. Bob nodded profusely, leaning back into you to chase your lips, which you pulled back from. You bit your lip and smiled, wooed by his desperation for you. "Someone's excited, huh?" you joked. "Well, I'd rather not get waterlogged here, so how about we dry off, get these swimsuits off, and...." you leaned close to his ear. "...you can take me on your bed any way you want, how's that sound loverboy?" you bit down onto his earlobe

Bob let out a whispered moan and dropped his head into your shoulder, pressing soft kissed into it. "Yes, please," he replied. Before getting up though, he pulled you into a close hug, which you returned gladly. Bob may have a secret, shameful side you didn't know about, but at the end of the day, you couldn't take the lover out of him.

The two of you stepped out of the bathtub, drained the water, and took your towels to dry yourselves off. Once you were dried, you opened the bathroom door, releasing the steamy air into the rest of Bob room. The cold tinged both your skin, as you walked hand in hand to his bed. You were first to undress, slipping off your bikini bottoms and untying your top off. Bob could've sworn his life flashed before his eyes at that moment, as he admired your beautiful body. He quickly kicked off his trunks, allowing his cock to finally spring out to life. He playfully ran up and tackled you onto his bed, kissing into you neck as you let out playful giggles.

His mouth eventually found its way up to yours, as the two of you slipped each other's tongues into your mouths. His hands gently swept you underneath him on the bed, still careful with your injury. "I-fuck, I wanna taste you," he gasped out while you sucked marks onto his neck. "Do it," you whispered into his neck, giving it a little nibble.

He giggled to himself, as his mouth traced kissed down your neck, sternum, and stomach, all the way down to your hips. You lifted your head to look down at him. He smiled up at you as his hands grabbed into your thighs, bending your legs up. His thumb grazed along your leaking folds, already sending shivers into you. "You're so....beautiful," you could hear him whisper just before leaving his first of many soft kisses on your slit. His tongue slowly worked itself over your clit, as one of your hands found its way down into the roots of his hair.

For leverage, you pulled slight tugs onto his hair, which drove Bob bananas. Each pull only drove him further into your pussy, absorbing his own whines and moans. His tongue worked over each of your lips, memorizing the way it made his taste buds react. You tasted so good, he could sit here eating you for hours. Looking down at the sight underneath you only pushed you closer to the edge. His messy, slightly damp curls intertwined with your fingers, as he sloppily ate your pussy, juice dripping down the sides of his mouth. Game changer moment was when he brought in his digits, curling his pointer and middle finger into your swollen cunt.

An exaggerated moan of his name left your mouth, as your hips buckled into his hand, begging for more. "C'mon, you're doing so good for me baby, keep it up," he spoke into your inner thigh, leaving a little love bite in there that left you biting your tongue. As his fingers worked inside you, you wriggled over the sheets, trying to chase an oncoming high. "You're so perfect sweetheart, so perfect for me," he continuously praised.

The twitch in your lower stomach grew more powerful with the seconds, as fingers continued to hit your walls perfect, his teeth grazed your clit, and hot breath washed over you. "Bob, I-I," you started to moan out. "Do it for me baby, come for me here."

As the high washed over your body, a final moan rushed out, paired with another hip buckle and legs a twitching mess as Bob kissed into your pussy. Your juice coated all over his fingers, which added more growth to his member, if that was even possible right now. His fingers slid perfectly out of your aching pussy and into his own mouth, as he got a better taste for you. A smile curled its way onto his mouth as he sat back on his knees, watching you come down from your high.

Bob couldn't help but crawl back up to you. He had to watch this moment with his own eyes. Your heavy breaths hit his face as he leaned on his elbows to perfectly lay over him. Your cheeks glowed a heavy pink as you came down from your orgasm. "Was that good?" he asks. You couldn't help but let out at laugh at the question. Good? Did he see what happened just now? "You're adorable," you validated, love-drunk eyes gazing into his own.

He let a breath out of his nose, and dropped his whole body weight down onto you. You cried out in a fake pain and your body absorbed his heat into you. "Get off, you're killing me!" you joked. He shook his head vigorously. "No, you gotta do it yourself," he played back. You giggled and used whatever strength you had left over to try and push him off. To no avail of course. "Alright, you gotta help just a little, you're pure muscle sweetie." Bob sighed and lifted his body off of you just enough for you to roll him to the other side of the bed.

Before he could move again, you jumped on top of him, placing your own dead weight on top of him now. "You see, I'd play along now, but I'm scared I'd toss you off the bed," he said. True, best not to play games like this with someone who has super strength. "Ugh, no fair," you complained, dropping your head into his neck. You heard his awkwardly adorable laugh, making your heart soar, as he scratched the back of your head.

"C'mere, let me see you," he asked gently. You lifted your head up, a fake frown plastered on your face. The act didn't last long though when you saw his face.

The way he looked at you right now was the way girls had dreamed about since they were kids. His eyes softened with pure adoration for you, with his mouth curled into the dumbest grin. He spoke your name in a question. "Yeah?" He brought his hand up to cup your jaw, which you nuzzled your cheek into as his thumb traced over your lips. "I....I think..." he trailed off. "What is it?" His smile turned slightly more serious. "I think I love you." He paused. "I know I do."

If it weren't for his body heat grounding you into the moment, you would've sworn you were dreaming right now. Everything you've ever wanted was right here. It was all in him. It was him.

"I know I love you too."

The giddy look on his face could set you free, as both his hands grabbed your cheeks to pull you into his kiss stained lips. The two of you continued to kiss and roll all over the bed, as you prepared to continue the rest of your love filled night.

~~~~~~

Sun rays streamed through the breaks in the blinds of Bob's room. Your eyes attempted to adjust to the brightness as you awoke. Wrapped up in his sheets, blooming with his scent, you began to remember the dreamlike events of the night before. You turned to the other side of the bed, and there he was.

Like a painting, Bob laid next to you, still off in his hopefully pleasant dreams. Loose strand of hair fell in front of his sleeping face, his mouth slightly agape to breathe, still swollen lips. In fact, all of your souvenirs from the night before laid over him: scattered hickeys along his neck and shoulders, and nail scratches peeking over from his upper back. It was perfect. He was perfect.

His breath readjusted as he began to stir a bit, and finally, his lashes fluttered open to see you. A childlike smile painted your face as you saw his sleepy eyes adjust to you. "Good morning sleepyhead," you pressed into the tip of his nose as you kissed it. He smiled an eyes closed one to you. "Morning honey." You had found out last night how much of a pet-name user Bob was. You didn't mind at all. It only helped seal the "it feels like i'm in a movie" idea for you. "How'd you sleep," he asked with his eyes still closed. "Good, great even," you hummed. "And you?" His eyes opened and he leaned in closer to you to kiss you silly. "Best in years, honest truth."

After some morning talk, Bob got up to go to the kitchen, leaving you with some extra minutes for sleep. When he returned, it was with a plate of breakfast on a tray just for the two of you. It took a miracle for you not to jump over the bed and onto him then and there. The plate for you included all your favorites: blueberry Eggos, orange slices, and eggs. These weren't your usual eggs though. "I know you like them burnt, but by the time I remembered, I had taken them out of the pan and these were the last two," he apologized.

You inspected the eggs with your fork. It scared you a little, but you'd rather risk a stomach ache than hurt Bob's feelings right now. And plus, it was time to finally grow up. Taking them onto your fork, you took a deep breath, and put them in your mouth.

Chew, chew, chew. Swallow.

God, these were so much better than rubbery, burnt eggs. "These are so fucking good Bob, oh my god," you salivated. He smiled that dumb grin and climbed into bed next to you, as the two of you continued the rest of your morning together. It was nice to know you didn't have to burn your eggs anymore. The other side was better than you could've imagined.

a.n: AND THATS IT i hope you liked it lol. this is by FARRRRR the longest fic i've ever written and it took like a week and a half to write rip so i hope you all enjoyed it. please leave a note or interact if you did, i'd really appreciate it. alright thank you so much again, catch you on the next one BYEEEEEE

[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

—characters: oliver, shidou, sae.

—cw: fem!reader, fingering, pearl necklace, overstimulation, finger sucking, not proofread.

—a/n: i need lobotomy. you do too if you're reading this shit.

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

oliver's hands are thick and has arms full of veins. he is not exactly a workout freak but he does fair amount of sets during practice resulting in his amazing physique. his fingers are girthy and he has amazing control over them.

oliver likes to spend his time with his fingers up your pussy, stretching your hole with his thick digits. he loves the feeling of your wetness dripping down his knuckles as he pumps them inside you.

"nasty little pussy. always so greedy, right, babe?" he whispers against your ears. "gimme one more and i promise i'll put my cock in then." you know he's lying. you've already came thrice and he's been repeating the same damn thing but won't stop fingering you. you can feel his erection poking your lower back, your pussy fluttering and craving more. too bad. aiku will only pull his fingers out when he wants to and not when you want to.

"oli...ngh—gunna cum," you mewl as your body tightens.

"let go, baby. 'm right here. cum on my fingers, yeah?" and you do, legs shivering as they close up, trapping his arms in place. when you calm down. aiku gives you peck on your head and you finally think he's gonna put it in. finally. "let's see if you can take four fingers." fucking hell.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

shidou's hands are very veiny even when he is not flexing his muscles. but i doubt this man is ever relaxed because he is on adrenaline 24x7. his skin is glowing with melanin so each nerve is visible. he works out a lot. well his workout is divided in two sections. gym and good old sex.

ryu's favorite thing to do with his hands are massage your tits. massage would be and understatement 'cause this man is full on groping, pinching and abusing them. your poor nipples are always sore when he is done with you. don't get me wrong. he loves to suck on them too. but something about fondling them while thrusting in you gets him off so much. even more lovely when he spits on them and smears them with his thumb.

"got such a sexy set on ya, babe. fhuuuck. gonna make me shoot a load just with this. ya won' mind if i slap them yeah?"

*slap*

you hiss at the sensation. "shit. did my pretty pussy just clenched? fucking hell. ah! my balls are tightening," he moans. you think he's gonna cum inside you but shidou pulls out faster than a lightning, his veiny hands tightening and stroking his cock as he aims for your tits. and just in a second, he is shooting thick translucent ropes all over them. he takes his palm and spread his cum all over your tits. "fuck. jus' like a glazed donut." he takes a lick. "best fucking donut ever."

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

given sae's slender yet washboard ab physique, his hands are long. not full of veins but his knuckles are very visible and it's so hot. his veins show when he is working out, pissed or...horny. sae didn't know he had attractive hands and he was dating a person who has a hand kink. what he did know was you loved to always suckle on his thumb when his palm rests on your jaw while dry humping you. so sae tries to push it further this time.

you're sitting and reading a book on the couch before sae's shadow towers over you. you shoot your head up, looking at him with confused eyes. he scans your face for a minute before speaking.

"open," he commands. you're not sure at first what he means but the way his green eyes are fixated on your mouth, your jaw instinctively follows his command like a servant. before you can grasp the situation, sae's middle and ring finger are already in your mouth. he let's you suckle on them for a few seconds and he's quick to start thrusting them. he might have just discovered that you have a hand kink is pretty convenient for him too 'cause the boner he popped might be the fastest ever.

"i am fucked," is all he says before thrusting his digits deeper, his other hand palming his cock through his gray sweats. his biceps buldge out and his veins pop when he fists his dick so you deliver the most appropriate reaction. a moan and a whimper that vibrate around his fingers sending shivers in his body. he's right. he is fucked. and so are you.

[haztory]

where you are.

— continuation to bias. (yes, i am making a series. yes, i am making us work for it) — jack abbot x fellow f!reader; attending/fellow dynamic, age-gap (unspecified but reader is late 20s and up, jack is mid 40s), heavy plot, slow-burn, angst, mention of patient death, gore, medical descriptions, descriptions of c-sections and premature birth, medical inaccuracies, jack and city girl being a formidable unit together in the ER then a LONG stint of pining, yearning, and embracing of domesticity, these two taking care of each other without realizing, please heed the warnings there are descriptions of invasive and traumatic birth — word count: 4.5k — summary: The sight of you instills a relief akin to a cool splash of water on Abbot—something he notes and stores on the shelf of things to deal with later. A shelf that is starting to pile up these days with things he’s avoiding. Things that all, concerningly, relate to you.

masterlist

The night had been going fine up until this point. Maybe it was that faulty line of thinking that led to this. The sudden implosion, the shatter of the steady. 

Jack isn’t one to brag much about himself. There’s no grand honor in being a doctor. Private practice, sure. Maybe. In the ED, it's shit work in shit situations where actual shit may or may not be involved. He’ll tell that to anyone who asks. When the inevitable question comes—are you any good at it?—he’ll shrug and tell them, depends on the day. 

He’s seen enough, done enough, worked with little more than two plastic straws and a boning knife to do a crike in the middle of a firefight in Afghanistan. He knows his way around the block, and can do more than the average ED can—that he will admit. But it's still a shit job sometimes. 

He hates all of the tragedy that rolls through the doors. They all eat away at the sinews of the mortal coil, but pregnant traumas? They get to him. It’s unsteady ground, the one type of call that he’s always shown a physical reticence to handling. 

There’s too much variability, too many unsuspecting errors, too much divided attention in the multidisciplinary approaches where focus has to be split for the sake of mom and baby. Crack open a body and you’re in for a world of hurt. Throw pregnancy into the mix, and now you’re one step away from God’s door asking what kind of games he’s playing. 

Aching despair is wedged in each part of an obstetric trauma that makes someone as battle tested and weathered as Dr. Jack Abbot sweat and cringe with a grief too profound for words. 

They wheel the young woman into Trauma One and the adrenaline surges through him like a needle straight to veins. His eyes, cold and hurried, press into Lisa. A terse instruction is barked out, your name in his lips.

“Get her in here now.”

Lisa is quick on her feet, stepping out of the OR to find you just as he cuts open the young girl’s shirt. In his survey of her body—the distended stomach dark with bruising from her injuries, blood staining every part of her body, most notably her inner thighs—his eyes find her face, shining a light in her eyes. 

The pupils remain unilaterally fixed in their dilation, non reactive. And it’s then that he notices how much of a child she looks. 

The sudden slam of the trauma doors welcomes you into the room, a rush in your step as you tie the surgical gown behind your back. A readied focus on your eye. The sight of you instills a relief akin to a cool splash of water on Abbot—something he notes and stores on the shelf of things to deal with later. A shelf that is starting to pile up these days with things he’s avoiding. Things that all, concerningly, relate to you. 

“Tell me.”

A resident presents with speedy construction as Jack oversees the tracheostomy. Young female ejected from an MVC, tachycardic, extensive blood loss and apparent extreme cardiovascular collapse and hypoxia. Non reactive pupils indicating neurological nerve damage. EMTs conducted an ultrasound to confirm pregnancy and baby’s length at 30 weeks. Dr. Hudson, the OB-GYN specialist, is on the phone, her own hands wrapped up in an emergency delivery upstairs, asking for details just as they’re presenting them to you. But there’s value in having you in the room—you’ve told Abbot enough about your New York residency. He knows just how much knowledge you have in obstetrics for this. 

The decision is made by you without further delay. Sure and serious. 

“We’re getting this baby out, now.” Your suggestion meets no rebuttal from Dr. Hudson over the line.

“CT has been ordered, we’re next in line.” Dr. Basu, the attending surgeon, speaks from the side of the bed.

“For it to confirm what we already know and waste more time?” You explain, not meanly. Just direct, intense. “We’ve got vaginal bleeding, likely dealing with placental abruption and the longer we wait, the longer the baby is not getting oxygen. We get this baby out now or we lose both of them.”

Dr. Hudson’s voice rings on the other end of the line, “I agree. Keep me updated.”

Abbot’s a good soldier, takes direction without problem. He’s heard your directive loud and clear, the specialist’s agreement is just icing on the cake. 

“You heard them. Let's move.”

You fall beside him in perfect time, meeting his movements quickly as skin is cut, hands move, and a baby—small, pink, and too pure for how he’s born—is introduced to the world. 

The baby is passed to a resident for care, a separate team filling up the connecting OR to secure baby boy before getting him up to NICU. Your attention remains fixed on attempting to stabilize mom, or at least getting her stable enough to be put on life support so that her family can see her and make the call. Jack is by your side, equally intent as you. Grounds his feet to the floor, keeps himself firm as you speak directions to one another, pass steady compliments at performance, grit out expletives of frustration.

Intent to share in the dread of this one. 

It’s not going well. The injuries are so severe, compounding on each other that right when you think you get something halfway resolved, another crash of vitals sounds through incessant beeping. 

He says your name softly, an hour and fifteen minutes into the procedure, after her pulse is lost for the third time and three units of O-Pos have been pumped through her. A gentle echo in the orchestra of chaotic beeps. You look at him, blood staining your forearms, sweat beading on both of your foreheads, the dismay creasing on your face mirrored on his own. 

“Anything else you want to try?” He asks. It’s not a test of knowledge, a sudden pop-quiz from your attending, but true deference. 

You hardly imagine he’s had to do many emergency c-sections on the floor, much less when he was on the field, but seeing the monolith of a man equally lost like you is hard hitting. You shake your head, tired.

“Call it.” He gently issues.

“Time of death, 3:07.” The words heave out of your mouth in a shuddered breath. It’s through shot nerves and sheer adrenaline that your hands shakily pull the bloodied gloves off of them. You toss them to the floor in defeat as the respiratory therapist stops her manually pumping of the bag valve mask and Lisa shuts off the monitors. 

It’s the same punch to the gut every time the words are uttered. You still struggle to get used to it.

“Thank you all for your work on this one.” Jack says to everyone in the room. The team seems to deflate at his words, solemnity a gaseous cloud that poisons the crowd. 

“Let’s take a moment and honor her and the life that was here.”

It’s a tense and desolate moment of silence. They always are. It’s broken by the sound of the sneakers in the hallway and the opening of the operating doors. 

“Dr. Abbot—” Bridget’s whisper stirs the room, “Your patient in two is vomiting.”

That’s all that can be afforded. The room breaks, everyone filtering out as the world continues to revolve beyond this room. As everyone makes out for the doors, he notices you stay. Staring. Reviewing. 

Going through it all over, and over, and over again. 

“We did everything we could.” He calls to you, ritualistically. Because it’s the right thing to say, not necessarily the one he believes.

“I know.” You tell him, because it’s true, but not because you believe it. You stay focused on the girl’s face, childlike features marred with contusions. “I just want a moment.”

“Course.” He offers quietly, “Anything you need.”

Your lips tilt at the shared mantra, a settled phrase that you find each other saying more often these days. You nod, appreciatively at him, your blessing for him to take his leave. Still, he hesitates. Holds. Waits. Staying close in case you voice a need—in case you say you need him. 

He forces himself out of the room before he makes a fool of himself. 

—

Abbot finds you in the aftermath. When a clean blanket is covering the girl's face, and she’s been wiped of the blood and fluids, and moved to an observation room waiting for her family’s arrival. After you both have moved forward through the night in other cases. He finds you outside of the vending machine, your gaze stuck flicking between the number of options.

“You’re supposed to put money into the machine in order to get something out.”

The sound of his voice hardly surprises you, even from behind. Almost like you anticipate him throughout the night, expect to find him somewhere nearby—these days, you practically hear him in the swirl of your own thoughts. Guiding you, teasing you, comforting you. 

“I’m fighting a battle against the urge to gorge on chocolate.” You tell him succinctly, eyeing the trail mix hesitantly.

“How’s that going?”

“I’m losing.”

He huffs a breath then pulls out his card from his wallet. He steps up behind you, close enough where his chest brushes your shoulder as he reaches around and taps it against the machine's card reader. You don’t move from the innocent meeting of your bodies, out of some curious interest in seeing if he will. 

He doesn’t. You shove the desire to lean into his subtle touch with a ten-foot pole, beating it until it's nonexistent. 

He punches in ‘B6’ on the keypad without hesitation and watches as a Snickers bar is dropped from the rack. He bends down, reaching his hand through the slot and raises back up with a grunt, handing the chocolate bar to you.

Your stare is scolding, but you take the bar anyway. Ripping the wrapper and taking a bite of the candy. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Cushion before the blow.” He warns. Your chewing slows, eyes widening in dread at him.

“Our pregnant mom’s parents are here.” Jack explains and you sigh heavily. “She was sixteen.”

Solemnly nodding, your eyes find comfort in fixating on the tile floor. “We have her name?”

“Kerina Jackson.”

“Okay. I’ll head over now.”

“You want me in there?”

“No. I made the call, I can do it.”

“I don’t mind.”

He watches you think for a moment. Weighing the pros and cons of it all, before you meet his gaze. Looking into him as if searching for any insincerity or any indication that he might take your acceptance as weakness. 

Finding nothing, you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay. Please.”

The walk to the observation room is harrowing. Your candy lays half eaten in your hand before you eventually tuck it into your pocket, appetite lost. You both convene one final look at each other at the door—a quick check-in, an agreement to step in before doing so. Jack moves, his hand on the handle of the door and holds it open for you, following in after you. 

You speak first, introducing the both of you to the parents as the doctors responsible for overseeing their daughter. They hang onto your words with fevered worry. You tell them the outcome as softly as you can. Life shatters for them in an instant. 

Through their heaves and sobs, you manage to croak out. “The baby is stable, for now. He’s been sent up to NICU for care. One of our nurses can take you to go see him.”

“And our daughter, where is she?” Her father asks. 

Jack speaks then, “We have her ready for you in an observation room. You can see her whenever you’d like.”

“I speak for Dr. Abbot and I when I say that we are so sorry that this has happened.” You continue. They ask a few questions—what killed her? Severe blood loss. Blunt force trauma. How long were you operating on her? An hour and fifteen minutes. Are you sure you did everything you could? No. But that part stays quiet. 

The room descends in a choked mood. Tempered by the soft sobs to two mourning parents who have no questions to ask but to the God that decided to take their child. 

“We will be here for any other questions you have or help you may need.” Jack speaks amidst the tears. There’s gratitude at his insertion as you find yourself at a loss of what else to say. But Jack knows. He always knows. “If you let one of our nurses know, they’ll come get us.” 

His hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you both out of the room. It’s a welcome feeling, a steady rock on shaky ground. As soon as the touch is there, it’s gone. He’s rounding on you, staring intently into you. 

“You good?”

“No.” You shrug. “You?”

He crosses his arms, tendons in his forearms stretching for a moment as he opens and closes his palms. For a moment you see the sliver of the man—the one that is becoming more and more familiar to you. That he’s revealing slowly, a new crack into the armor each time you happen to be around when these things happen. Weary and upset in a way that stretches beyond anger at the unfairness of life. Targeted almost in judgement, in disappointment at choices—his and beyond. 

It touches depths of sadness and hurt in ways that he doesn’t often let show. Visible only in the slow nod of his head and the downturn curl of the corner of his lips. 

A slew of questions sits in his mind—What was she doing out on the road so late? What did she run into? Why wasn’t she wearing her seatbelt? Why the fuck was she pregnant at sixteen? Each is more devastating than the last, sticking a knife into his back and drags down, down, down the seam of his skin until he feels like he’s split into two.

His leg aches, loudly, but admitting that is forsaking a life that this young girl doesn’t get to have anymore. 

“Gotta keep going.” He says, plainly. But his lips curl downward and his stare says more than he thinks it does.  

Your fingers itch to grab onto him and hold him tight.

—

The sun rises slowly and with it comes the harrowing end of the shift. It couldn’t have come sooner.

You should run—make for the streets of Pittsburgh and never turn back. Let your heart race in adrenaline from something other than tragic chaos. Run for nonexistent hills that whisper a promise of calm and levied bliss as you leave PTMC and all that it holds. It’s an amusing thought. If you were stronger, more committed, you would. But the clock ticks past your scheduled exit time, your bag slung over your shoulder and yet, your feet remain firmly planted to the ground at the loading bay. Stuck, held, waiting. For something.

A sign, maybe. A reminder of why you’re here. 

“I need a beer.” 

Much like he’s done all night, Jack sidles up beside you. Appearing out of thin air and standing next to you. You’re brows furrow in question, having thought he had made for the rooftop like he usually does after a long shift. 

“Isn’t it too early for that?” You ask. 

“Never too early for a good thing.” He shrugs. “Isn’t that a ‘city that never sleeps’ specialty?” 

“Touché.” You nod in concession. Silence befalls the two of you as the world sounds around you. Cars drive by as people wake up, sirens from an ambulance ring only a hair’s width away. The air is cool on your skin and you take the moment to breathe. The urge to run wanes, slightly. 

“I’ve got some beer at my place.” You offer, casually. “Wanna head that way?”

Jack turns to meet your gaze. It's an innocuous invitation, smeared with exhaustion and nonchalance. Nothing untoward. Like you wouldn’t be offended if he didn’t take you up on it, just as you wouldn’t make it a big deal if he did. Your thumb points south, gesturing to your apartment, the complete opposite direction of his home. 

He tilts his head after a thoughtful moment of consideration. “You take the train?”

“Bus.”

“Fuck that. I’ll drive us.”

— 

Your apartment is deep in the strongarm of the city, right at the crossing between loud and hectic, and just past the Allegheny River. The building is as quaint as it is quiet, which isn’t saying much. A big, tall eyesore and Jack can’t help but scoff. 

City girl staying close to what she knows.

He follows, woefully out of his element, as you guide him past the concierge and through the modern and minimalist decor of the lobby into golden elevators. You press twelve on the buttons and the elevator ascends in a quiet hum—lulled only by the whir of the machine. 

Comfortable silence emphasizes the line that’s been drawn in the sand. Work staying at the steps of the hospital, far from a desirable topic of conversation, even farther from being a worthy disruption of the tranquility. Rehashing the night, wondering what could have been done differently is a task you both save for personal time in the privacy of your spaces when no one else is looking. 

“Bienvenido a mi casita.” You sing, tired and a feeble attempt at jovial, as your keys unlock the apartment door. 1224, he notes. Puts it up on the crowded shelf with everything else about you he pretends he isn’t storing. He steps inside, eyes scanning the home with barely concealed interest. 

It’s a small space, clean—save for the mail you have scattered on the counter and the stray bottle of cleaner that you have yet to put away. The apartment is decorated modestly, color popping in the pillows on your couch, the rug you have in the living room, the dinner mats on your two-chaired dinner table. Photos of friends, family, your nieces hang on every wall in a pleasant array. It’s lived in, alive, warm, yours.

He doesn’t realize he’s studying the place until you call from behind him from the kitchen, your head deep in the pantry. “You still want that beer? I can make some coffee instead?”

“Coffee’s good. Bl—”

“Black. I know.” You look at him over your shoulder, a twinkle somehow emerging in your eyes. From the ash of a smoldering fire that burned all that was sane, you still rise—sparking anew.  He watches, curious. You grab coffee grounds and move through your kitchen, filling the machine and starting a brew. 

“You hungry?” You ask. 

“Are you?”

“I could eat.” 

He didn’t come here to eat breakfast. He’s not sure why he even came in the first place. But he nods despite the uncertainty that makes him feel idiotic. “Sure.”

He wades awkwardly into your apartment. Unsure where to stand, how to take up less space, if he should bid his goodbye now or later. His eyes fall to a box leaning against your living room wall, beside your television that sits pathetically on the floor. 

“What’s going on here?” He asks, gesturing to the cardboard with black lettering that has too many umlauts above them. 

“A TV stand that I’ve been procrastinating building.” You respond, the sound of eggs cracking on the counter and into a bowl ringing throughout the room. 

“How long?”

“‘bout a month.”

“Christ.” He scoffs. “You waiting for God to show up?

“Something like that.” He hums. His eyes narrow for a moment, before deciding resolutely. 

“Got a tool kit?”

The morning unfolds slowly, comfortably. Jack sitting in your living room, building your TV stand to create a reason as to why he’s here. He pauses only when you plate up some breakfast. Eggs, toast, and a cup of coffee. He eats in a steady quiet with you, unsure when the last time he had breakfast with someone was.

Conversations are interspersed infrequently. Mostly unimportant; something about this new hot sauce you got from the farmer’s market and the plans you have for redecorating. He tells a stupid story about the billboard outside your apartment window that used to have the picture of the two twin lawyers and their fish man.

(“Their fish man?”

“Shenderovich, Shenderovich, and Fishman. 1-888-98-Twins.”

“Shenderovich to the second power. God, that’s awful.”

“You’re telling me.”)

Quiet things, small delights that bring the slight quirk to his lips and the gentle huff of laughter from you. The small things the diffuse the tension of the night, that force the slow revival into becoming a human again.

You take both plates when you finish, humming at his quiet thanks and returning to the kitchen to clean while he returns his attention to the stand. And it’s normal—so pointedly normal and domestic it’s a wonder this hasn’t been a routine occurrence. Jack is sore thumb in his scrubs sitting on your living room floor, your measly excuse for a toolkit beside him as he fits wooden slabs together and builds. An entirely new sight, certainly not something the version of you a few months ago would’ve thought you’d ever see, but it's a welcome one. 

Weirdly, he fits. His figure, his presence, him. Makes your home feel whole, meaningful.

Time passes with little recognition. It’s a relatively simple stand—easy and mindless to put together. The Swedes are built off of functional efficiency and he sends a quiet hail mary to the Scandinavians. One moment, Jack is scanning the instructions, his eyes glancing to yours as you place a glass of water beside his mug on the coffee table next to him. Then he blinks and the stand is assembled, only the quiet hum of the morning news sounding from your television. 

It’s a welcome thing. He’s never able to fully turn his mind off but in the mundane, the easy turn of the screw and the pleasing click of pieces together, the turmoil dulls to a quiet chatter and he can breathe easily. Zoned in so readily that he lost touch with reality for a second. Forgot where he was, what he was doing, who he was doing it for. 

He pushes the stand into the place where your TV sits on the ground, then lifts the TV onto its surface. Settling the furniture into the place that he supposes you would want—the place he thinks it looks best. 

He’s turning, content at being useful and ready to ask for your approval. Then he realizes that he’s heard very little from you while he was building.

He finds you on the couch behind him. Eyes shut, mouth slightly open as your breaths are softly and evenly exhaled in your sleep. Your hair is released from the tie you had to hold it back throughout the shift, the strands messily framing your face as you lay against the pillow of the couch. Still clad in your scrubs, your face settles peacefully as you rest. Not scrunched in frustration or stony in your focus. 

Under the soft of the morning light, a sharp contrast to the fluorescents he’s always seen you under, exhaustion resounds on your face. Tamed only by the sweetened sighs of your slumber that remedy the ailment. You sleep, sweet and easy.

A stray strand of hair crosses over your nose, moving with the rhythmic rise and falls of your breaths. A twitch aches in his fingers. Spurned by need and the deep rooted ache of loneliness that craves the taste of tenderness. 

He brushes the strand away from your face, eyes focused on the action, watching your face remain peacefully asleep. Relishes in the brief moment of softness he’s been afforded. 

There’s a twinge of guilt as he has to disturb the solitude, yours and his, when he taps your leg gently. You stir in tired confusion.

“Lock the door behind me.”

“You’re going?” You ask, wiping your mouth, sounding disappointed at the notion. 

“Yeah. You need to sleep.”

“You sure? You can stay.”

The excuse is on his tongue fighting against the urge to read into that. There was hardly a reason for him to be here today, much less one for him to linger around. Insist and bore drill into the cracks of his thick skull that this shouldn’t happen again. That this is inappropriate. 

It’s pointedly not, though. He built a stand for you, you made him breakfast. That was all there was to it. That’s all that was being expected by you, because why would you expect anything further?

(You wouldn’t. Because there’s nothing going on. Despite the stares from the nurses, and the whispers of a rumored bet, and the lingering glances that get sent between you two—nothing is going on.

He’s sure of it.)

But, Jack doesn’t do things flippantly, without purpose. And walls don’t get torn down, softened, for just any reason. In the ingrained pattern that Dr. Mott insists is a defense mechanism and that Jack believes is just normal human condition, he feels the walls so carefully erected find their place once more. Fortified to shut out the possibility of some inane want for something burn without restraint within him. 

The armor that’s been slowly cracking back settles onto him and he aims for a neutral expression. Curt, succinct. No room for error. “Thanks for breakfast.” 

“Thanks for the stand, you didn’t have to do that. But it looks great.” You trail behind him slowly as he walks towards your front door. “I’ll be calling you for all of my furniture builds. I’m spoiled now, old man.”

Here’s the chance. Stop it here, smother the budding growth of a tender seed before it takes root and spreads into his lungs. Prevent the tendons from reaching up his throat, crawling into his brain, and mold the perfect image of you into the grey matter. 

He should tell you, firmly, that this will not happen again. Throw in a degrading tease, diffuse the sincerity of the moment. Get you to stop looking at him like he means something.

“Anytime, city girl.” He says, instead. 

You smile— warm, relaxed, gentle and he’s ready to aim gun to temple at the realization of how much he likes it. He can only do what he knows best, what he does with everything else he stupidly seems to notice and grab onto with you, and puts it on the shelf. Half ready to lock it in a chest deep in his mind and toss the key into a cavernous abyss. 

“I’ll hold you to it.” You say, content. And he nods.

He drives back in silence and the promise forged in tired smiles and quiet closeness chokes him all the way home.

a/n: i would like it known, this is the fastest i have ever put out work in a series. im just so bewitched by this middle aged man, i want him inside me.

know this is a quick one and not much happens but i'm a true believer in slow burn being both slow and burning :)

next one will be fun, promise!

[mayanneaa]

domestic - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY : rafe finally experiences domestic life with you.

WARNING(S) : not proofread

A/N : celebrating 2025 with softish rafe hihi (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1.1k

masterlist.

one.

"You're doing it wrong."

You look up at Rafe, the shirt still in your hands. He's sitting on the couch, a pile of clothes next to him.

The day’s finally come—you two had to take care of the laundry. That’s how you ended up on the floor, a big basket by your side.

"Enlighten me, then."

Rafe slides down on the floor and takes the fabric from you. "You have to fold it like this," he says, folding it neatly, his face almost screaming ‘bored’.

Sun’s shyly sneaking into the living room, casting a mosaic of lights. All you can smell is the fresh laundry and Rafe's cologne, now that he’s so close. Musk and sandalwood fill the space between you two.

There are no screaming kids outside, only the faint sound of crashing waves from the beach. It feels so… right.

“What?” Rafe’s voice pulls you out of wonder, and heat rises to your cheeks when you realize you've been staring at him the whole time, “Folding clothes is philosophical for you?”

“Asshole." You playfully push his shoulder as he puts the folded shirt on one of the little towers you created. "It's just nice. You know, doing things like this with you."

He shrugs, turning away so that you can't see his face. Too bad you caught the flush creeping up his neck.

"C'mon, admit it!" You press, nudging him slightly.

"Admit what?"

You smile as he furrows his brows, "Admit you like it too!"

Rafe snorts and pulls you into his lap, making your heart flutter, "Fine. I like it. Happy?"

"You have to mean it, Rafe!" you tease, a toothy grin spread on your face.

He rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as he leans in and captures your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, savoring the sweet taste of cherries on his lips.

When you finally pull away, Rafe's voice comes out not louder than a whisper, "Do you believe me now?"

You rest your forehead against his, a giggle escaping your lips. "Yeah. Maybe I do."

"Good," Rafe says looking over your shoulder, "Because we have a ton of work left."

You groan and bury your face in the crook of his neck. "You're the worst."

two.

You were delighted when Rafe finally agreed to go grocery shopping with you. Such a small thing, but it made you giddy regardless. Usually, he'd just order it straight to your door. It was nice, sure, but you missed the feeling of walking around the isles, looking at the list you made back home, and picking out the products.

That’s how you ended up in this little shop, standing in front of the ice cream fridge. The lights are quietly humming over your head, and the smell of fresh baked goods is lingering from the bakery section. Rafe’s beside you, his gaze set on the different packaging.

“Which one should we get?” he asks.

You sneak a glance at the piece of paper in your hand. “I mean… We technically shouldn’t get any.”

These words make him turn his head to you, a judging look on his face. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh? Well, since you’re such a party girl, pick something out while I go and search for the rest.”

Rafe huffs and you move to the other side of the store, away from the freezing air that pinches your skin. There aren't many people, other than an older lady picking out the best tomatoes and some kids debating on the candy they’ll buy.

Soon enough, your checklist is almost complete.

“Baby,” you hear from behind and you turn around to Rafe carrying three cans of ice cream.

You arch your brows as he puts them in the cart.

“I got a classic, which is vanilla,” he starts, pointing at each one, “Then this one, because you love it, and the peanut butter was new or something. We can try it out together!”

“And when do you plan on eating all that?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a proud smirk, “Oh, I’ve already thought about that, baby. We’ll finish the 'Gossip Girl' or whatever it's called—"

You interrupt him, getting on your tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"See? Groceries are fun, told ya."

Rafe's eyes soften before he chuckles and snatches the list out of your hands. "Maybe. But we have to get the whipped cream first. Oh, we can also get some coke—"

"Well, if you'll pay we can get anything."

Rafe snorts as he pushes the cart, keeping you snug against his side. "Obviously. C'mon!"

three.

The steady rhythm of rain tapping on the open window fills the bedroom. The day's coming to an end, and you finally find a moment for yourself.

You curl up on your bed, hiding between the fluffy blankets and pillows with a book in your hand. The candles on your nightstand flicker softly, the wisps of smoke mixing with the steam rising from the cup nearby.

"Move, please." You hear Rafe mumble as he climbs the bed, an oversized shirt hanging off his body.

He settles, resting his head on your chest, strong arms wrapped around you. Then, he lets out a long sigh, like a puppy after a long day of doing nothing.

You glance down at him—his eyelids flutter, and pout forms on his lips. Your heart softens despite yourself. "The weather drained you out, huh?"

Rafe lazily shakes his head, "Not really."

He isn’t even sure what it is about this moment that soothes him, but he never wants it to end. When he's in your room, the sweet scent of your candles filling up his head, all he wants to do is to lay down with, or rather on you. To feel the warmth of your body, he longs to listen to your voice.

You smile, the silence falling between you feels comfortable. You read through the pages, becoming more invested.

Rafe absentmindedly traces lines on your blanket. He listens to the rain, and it syncs with the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

"I like this." Before he can think again, the words slip out of his lips, breaking the silence.

You rest the book on him, giggling. "What?"

"Being here with you, Ms. Giggles Mgoo." He raises his head to look at you. There's a flicker in his eyes, and it doesn't come from the flame beside you.

"No way," you tease, and he rolls his eyes, "The Rafe Cameron tells me he likes spending time with me..."

He pouts, and you can't hold your laugh anymore.

You lean in, peppering his nose with quick pecks. Rafe smiles, his cheeks painted in a delicate shade of red.

"You're getting soft, baby." You say between the kisses, and you feel the heat rising to his face under your lips.

"Shut up..."

You press one last kiss, this time to his lips. It's so rare—to see the softer, quieter Rafe that for now only exists here, with you. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[cerisereids]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐂𝐮𝐩- 𝐒.𝐑.

Pairing- Spencer Reid x ChildrensLibrarian!Reader

WC- 4.7k

Summary- Spencer stumbles on an incredibly special story time at the library one day. It changes everything.

Contains- Miss Honey-esque reader, Spencer is a complete and total simp, reader is described with curly hair that can be tucked behind her ears, idiots in love, love-ish at first sight, they keep missing each other until they don't

A/N- heavily recommend listening to potion by djo while reading this 😇 (also just in general) divider from @thecutestgrotto! Blurb of their date can be found here!

Spencer Reid is on a mission. The smoky scent of the local library engulfs him, the earthiness nearly swallowing him whole as the sliding doors part. He’s single minded today, on the hunt for Trediakovsky’s Razgovor ob Ortografii. While the study of the phonetic structure of the Russian language sounds like some light reading to him, his use for it today is much more sinister. The case they’re on is local, a serial killer leaving Russian poems at each crime scene. The letters and words twist in his mind as he tries to make sense of them, of why they were picked, why they were left at certain crime scenes, why-

“Now every year in Africa, they hold the Jungle Dance, where every single animal turns up to skip and prance!” He freezes in his tracks.The softest voice lilts its way in his head, breaking through his swirling sinister speculations. It’s a girl. The prettiest one he’s ever seen. His heart picks up at the sight of her, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes drape over her frame, the way her soft dress flows over it. They nearly roll back in his head once he sees the soft fabric delicately, deliciously, cinch her waist. 

She’s reading to a crowd of eager listeners, most of them below the age of seven. She’s able to captivate what could be an incredibly rambunctious group, and that feat alone is enough to stop Spencer in his tracks. 

“And this year when the day arrived, poor Gerald felt so sad, because when it came to dancing, he was really very bad,” a soft sadness captivates her voice, prompting a few ‘awww’s from the crowd of littles. 

Before Spencer could stop himself, before he knew what he was even doing, he took two steps toward her, lingering gently in the back of the crowd. There’s a voice in the deepest recess of his mind- ‘focus on the case, focus on the book.’ And yet, the only thing he can focus on is the way each word fits around her mouth, her supple lips twisting and turning to capture each word, each nuance. 

“The warthogs started waltzing, and the rhinos rock ‘n’ rolled,” she whips her hair slightly, her fingers stretched in a ‘rock on’ sign that encourages fits of giggles from the group. Spencer himself even cracks a smile. 

Soon enough, Spencer’s learned all about Gerald- the giraffe who can’t dance- and how he finds his confidence, and how the audience can too! She’s so enthralling, the way her ringlets bounce with each movement, the shine of her lip gloss in the fluorescent light- how can someone look that good in fluorescent lighting? So enthralling, he doesn’t even register how weird it might look that he’s the only childless adult in the group. A fact he should be self conscious of, if it weren’t for the way his heart pounds when he looks at her. 

He eventually retreats, pursuing the foreign language section in the world’s most pathetic attempt at nonchalance. Really, he should win an award for stupidity, with the way his eyes find her every 30 seconds, desperate to keep her in his line of sight. Soon enough, a light, floral aroma breaks through the bibliosmia coating the building. He turns, almost flinching at the proximity to her. 

“Hi,” she smiles, and he’s a goner. His ever racing mind, the one that couldn’t shut off just moments ago, now rendered completely useless thanks to a sundress and perfume. IQ slashed to 80, as the team likes to say. “You seemed to be very interested in Gerald the dancing giraffe, I can’t help but think these books might be a little bit out of your lexile range, if that’s the case,” she references the stacks of Russian literature they stand before. 

He chuckles, a breathless, unbelieving sound forced from his chest. His cheeks tint, a reddish hue overtaking them. He looks at his shoes. “Uhm, yeah. Yeah. I guess that would be the case wouldn’t it?” He makes the mistake of looking back up at her. Their eyes meet. His heart stops. 

This must be what dying feels like. He’s dying, isn’t he? He has to be, because there’s no way people feel this way every time they’re attracted to someone. How would anyone get anything done? She giggles then, and it only makes it worse. 

“What are you really here for? Let me help you,” she smiles, and he almost keels over at that moment. 

“I’m looking for Trediakovsky, Razgovor ob Ortografii,” the Russian flows neatly off his tongue. Her eyes widen, an impressed smile creeping up her lips. 

She nods, “Hm, handsome and smart, I’ll have to remember you.” He’s dizzy as he watches her scan through the rows of books- a perfectly manicured finger grazing the spines. He wonders what it’d be like for her to do that down his own spine. He shivers. 

“Ah! Here it is!” she plucks it from the shelf, turning to him with an assured smile. “I can only give it to you if you tell me your name.”

A blush creeps up his neck once more, he avoids eye contact. His heart drops when he hears his phone beep in his back pocket. The case. His face goes white as he rips it from his pocket, coming face to face with a message from Derek. 

Hello??? We’ve been waiting for 45 minutes. I hope the unsub got you because that’s the only reason I won’t whoop your ass for taking so long. 

Spencer’s blush deepens He puts his phone down, coming face to face with her again. Her brows are furrowed this time, a pout on her lips that feels like an anvil on his heart. 

“I have to go, I’m so sorry. I’m-um-yeah,” he turns, running off at the speed of light. He leaves the library. Without the book. 

20 minutes later, he’s stuck in the passenger seat of the SUV, next to a very disapproving Morgan. 

“I mean, you’re literally considered a genius by governmental standards, Reid. I don’t know how you forgot the one thing you needed from this library,” Morgan’s fingers tap against the steering wheel in their own impatient dance. 

Spencer’s heart stops as they pull up to the library, the only saving grace of this moment the sheer prospect of being able to see her again. His palms sweat as he walks in behind Derek, who immediately flashes his badge to the older woman at the front desk. Spencer follows suit, and he sees the woman’s eyes light up in a way that says ‘hey, I know you!’  

He prays she won’t say anything about his earlier…conversations with her coworker, desperate to keep it from Derek as long as possible. At least until he knows her name. But of course, he’s afforded no such luck. 

“Oh, I had a feeling you’d be back! You were looking for the Russian book, yes? The…Trediakovsky?” She pushes up the sleeves of her pink knit cardigan as she moves, maneuvering the tiny space they stand before. 

“Ah! Here it is, our lovely children’s librarian dropped it off for you, said you might be coming back for it,” there’s a twinkle in her eye as she says it. Spencer’s face is red as a beet, he can just feel it. “She really is very good, you know. Families come from miles away to hear her read. If either of you have little ones at home, feel free to come see us, tell ‘em Myrtle sent ya,” she winks as she scans the book. Spencer locks his eyes on her movements, even when Morgan glances back at him. Especially when Morgan glances back at him. 

Once it’s been checked out, he grabs it from her with a breathy, “thank you,” before rushing off to the parking lot. 

He stops with his hand at the car door, frozen in place at the sight of her. She’s toting multiple large bags through the parking lot, arms full of various costumes and fabrics as she attempts to unlock her car. Derek saddles up behind him, lifting his sunglasses. His confused gaze melts into one of petulant understanding, an older brother who found his diary littered with his crush’s name. 

“Ahh, now I see why you forgot,” he ruffles his hair before jogging to the other side of the car. “I’d give you a chance to go help her, but your little mistake has now put us back 40 minutes. Get in.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, cheeks heating even more when she turns towards their voices, their eyes connecting. There’s a sparkle in hers, one of kind familiarity that sends his heart into a tailspin. He nods ever so slightly. He gets in the car. 

You walk up and down the aisles, browsing the expansive children’s section for this week’s read aloud. Giraffes Can’t Dance was a hit, for more than your usual reasons. You shake that thought from your head, burying the unusual disappointment of not seeing the handsome, illusive stranger since that day. You clocked him the second he walked through the door, frenzied and frantic. You clocked the way he slowed down when he saw you, the small, purposeful steps he took in contrast with the quick pitter pats of his entrance. 

His eyes never left you the whole time. While that’s not atypical during your story times, it usually comes from wide-eyed toddlers, not the most handsome being on two legs. His eyes were jet streams, steering gusts of wind right through you, rendering you breathless. You could never forget those brown eyes. It’s making you nearly insane. 

You crouch in front of your seasonal display, various titles about the arrival of spring popping out at you. You decide on one of your favorites- There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Frog. You glance at the clock- you have about an hour until the kids begin arriving. You have plenty of time to get into costume. You smooth down the front of your dress, knowing it’ll be covered in one of Myrtle's cardigans in no time. 

You situate yourself in the break room, assembling all your necessary materials to get ready for this morning’s read aloud. You fix a grey wig onto your head, along with fake glasses with a chain. You complete your look by adding wrinkles along your face, even going so far as to grab your frog puppet. Puppets are a necessity in a read aloud. 

Your heels click their way out to the main lobby, where families have already begun to trickle in. You’re already in character, greeting the kids in a shaky voice, pretending not to recognize your own name.

"You're looking for who? Well, I've never heard of her in my whole life!" You'd insist to fits of giggles.

You eventually make your way over to the chair, frog and book in hand. You’re still waiting for one person in particular, though you know wishing to see him again would be like wishing on a dead star.

Every time you hear the door open, your back straightens just slightly. You’re met with Myrtle’s disappointed shake of the head each time. She’s heard your ramblings all about this mystery man over the past week, and of course is in full support. She even told you she gave your read alouds a shoutout, just so he would come back. You smile at the memory, though your heart sinks at the prospect of him not coming back. It’s agony, not even knowing his name. You could at least have done some internet stalking, but no. The world does not seem to be so kind. 

Until it is. Myrtle shoots up, a gleeful ‘hello!’ spilling from her lips. Your heart begins racing, pounding against your ribcage with fervor. You see a familiar head of brown, fluffy hair, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips. You even forget your ridiculous getup, if only for a moment. 

It doesn’t take long for the universe to unleash its cruelty once more, as a blonde woman with two children walks in behind him. Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Of course he’s taken, you think, face burning with humiliation. He wasn’t wearing a ring, so you’d assumed you just got lucky. Clearly not. 

The boys are adorable, though it takes everything in you to put a smile on your face. You welcome them in your crotchety grandma voice, despite wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

His soft chuckle rings in your ears, ricocheting like gunshots. You flinch. His smile drops at that, his eyes studying you in a way that leaves you vulnerable, raw. You can’t help but catch his gaze, silently communicating to this stranger everything he’s made you feel. 

Once the kids are all accounted for, you begin your story. For a moment, you disconnect, losing yourself entirely in the story of the old lady who swallowed the frog, the dirt, the seeds, the sunlight. Once the story is finished, you place the book in your lap to thunderous applause. 

“Wow! Thanks so much for joining me in that journey, friends!” you exclaim, your grandma voice still entirely intact. “Now, I have a special surprise for you guys,” you wiggle your eyebrows as the kids anticipatingly lean forward. 

You reach behind you, grabbing seeds for various plants- marigolds, sunflowers, lettuce, and beans. “We are going to plant some seeds, just like my friend here swallowed!” You point to the old lady on the cover of the book. “We are going to be the first planters in our new community garden here at the library!” 

The kids take immediate gratification in this activity, racing to get their own pouch of seeds to plant. You line them up in an orderly fashion, your mystery man front and center- of course- before leading them out to their own section of the garden. You walk up and down the patch of grass your boss so gracefully granted you for this project, a smile wide on your face. 

That is, until you bump into him. You stop abruptly, face heating as his gorgeous brown eyes bore into yours. Your heart shutters against your chest, completely ignoring the blonde woman behind him with two kids. 

“Oh!” You gasp. “Uhm-hello, I- I didn’t think I’d see you again. It’s good to have you here, with the whole family!” There’s an airy lilt to your voice, disingenuous in every way possible. He sees right through it, you can tell by the light chuckle, followed by the realization dawning on his raised brow, his wide eyes. 

“Oh! Oh, no-I uhm, this is my-” he clears his throat, gesturing to the woman and children behind him. “This is my coworker, and her kids. Her kids with another man-uhm-not with me. I’m just the godfather.” 

His face is beet red. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. You smile gently at his awkwardness, thankful you’re not the only one feeling vulnerable seeing him again. 

“Hi, I’m Jennifer,” the blonde says, shaking your hand and wiggling her way in between you two. 

“Jennifer, hi,” you smile, breathing out your own name in return.

“And these are my two boys, Henry and Michael!” She scoops up the youngest one, and you absolutely melt. They’re both the picture of sweetness, big blue eyes and chubby cheeks that won’t quit. They excitedly wave hello and you crouch down to meet the older one at eye level.

“Well, hello!” You chirp. “How are you? It’s so nice to meet you!” He’s shy, you can tell by the way his cheek meets his shoulder, the bashful look in his eye. 

“I liked your story,” he mumbles. Your heart is a puddle in your chest. Those four words are music to your ears, the reason you show up day in and day out. 

“I’m so glad! Have you gotten the chance to plant anything yet, Henry?” You ask, and he nods fervently. 

“I planted marigolds with my brudder!” He exclaims, grabbing your hand to show you his hard work. 

“Wow! Look at you two!” You exclaim, turning back to include the little one in his mom’s arms. Though, when you do turn, you freeze at the big, brown eyes still trained on you. His gaze is sparkling, full of light and adoration that make you feel fuzzy inside. Your stomach is a butterfly garden, rendering you lovesick and dizzy. 

You finch at the sharp beep of a cell phone, Jennfier reaching in her back pocket with her free hand. She groans, and your heart drops. 

“Spencer, we gotta go,” she whispers, though you catch his name and cling onto it for dear life. 

Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. 

His face falls, yours with it. You mirror each other’s regret, a sad smile forming on your face as the boys cling to you in deep goodbye hugs. 

“Thank you very much for your hard work,” Jennifer says. “Hopefully, we’ll be back, godfather included.” Her tone is playful, her brows wiggling as she glances in between you and Spencer. Spencer. 

The jet engine rumbles as the team settles in after another successful case. Spencer’s already made himself comfortable, curled up on the couch, desperate to think of anything other than the pretty librarian mind controlling him. He’s leaning into dramatics, this he knows. His forearm draped over his eyes, his free one limp at his side. He’s sure he looks like something out of Madame Bovary. The fabric of her dress swishing around in his mind renders him unable to care. 

That is, until he feels a rustling of his hair. He peeks over his arm to see J.J. and Derek, watching him with knowing smiles on their faces. 

“You guys look like the unsub we just caught,” Spencer muffles out, pride singed at their intentional, teasing gazes. 

“Maybe…” Derek trails, “or maybe we just want to support you. Ever thought about that?” 

This causes Spencer to sit up. Derek’s hardly ever this nice to him without a catch. He loves him for it, the way a brother would, but it doesn’t stop the hairs on the back of his neck from standing. 

“What could you possibly want to help me with?” Spencer mutters. He knows playing dumb is useless, but he’s not sure he’s ready to face the reality of his rapid heart, his swirling thoughts. 

“I don’t know…maybe a girl…” J.J. trails, and he’s a goner. “Maybe she works at the library, is great with kids, someone you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.”

He stands at that, walking to the other side of the jet. Their playful scoffs and footsteps follow behind him. 

“Oh, come on, man! There’s nothing wrong with having a little crush!” Derek teases, nudging his shoulder with his. Spencer plows ten fingers through his hair before sitting in a corner seat. 

“Aah, Boy Genius has a crush, eh?” Dave chimes in, turning in his chair to get a better look at the scene unfolding. 

“Ohh, is that why you forgot that Russian book the other week? I thought there was something up with you, I just never guessed it’d be a girl!” Emily interjects, a smile spreading on her face. 

“I am never talking to you people ever again,” Spencer states plainly, closing his eyes and turning his body away from his team. 

“Leave him alone,” he hears Hotch warn. He’s stern as always, but there’s a playful lilt in his tone that has Spencer’s cheeks heating up. Why is he on this team again?

He’s rustled awake a few hours later, surprised that he was able to get some actual shut eye on the jet. He wipes his eyes to see Derek above him. He rolls his eyes, but Derek offers him a hand, helping him up. He claps a hand on his shoulder as they walk out. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you, man,” he starts. “It’s not a bad thing to have feelings for someone, y’know? Maybe she likes you back.” 

Spencer wrestles with the thought, an activity he’s grown way too accustomed to these past few weeks. He raises a brow at Derek, an unsure, “maybe,” leaving his lips. 

Derek gives him two supportive pats before hopping off the jet. “C’mon, I’ll take ya home.”

Spencer’s brow starts to raise as Derek misses several turns, at one point going the exact opposite way of Spencer’s apartment. 

“You do know where I live, right?” He asks, confusing lacing each syllable. 

“Of course I do, genius,” the sarcasm rolls off Derek's tongue. “I just thought there’s somewhere else you’d rather be right now.”

Realization dawns on him as Derek parks in front of the library. Spencer’s heart drops, his palms immediately clamming up, mind calculating any and all possibilities. What if I smell from the jet? What if I look like I haven’t slept in four days? I mean I haven’t, but…can’t I take a shower first? 

Derek must see the reservation on his face. He checks his watch. “From what I can tell, story time starts in about 5 minutes. That’s Will’s car over there,” Derek points out the window to a blue sedan that does in fact belong to the father of his godchildren. “Go get her.”

Invigorated by his words, Spencer darts out of the car, go bag slung over his shoulder. Derek speeds off before he can change his mind, leaving Spencer to cough on the dust. A small smile forms on his face, feeling lucky to be cared for in such a way. 

He turns, now intimidated by the large building, glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling. He sees her setting up on the first floor. His heart skips a beat. 

She’s wearing a new dress today, one he hasn’t seen before, that is. It’s a cream colored, decorated with dainty pink flowers that clutch his heart. The sleeves are puffy, decorating her shoulders as she works hastily to put her finishing touches on the day’s read aloud. 

She freezes when she sees him, and it finally dawns on him how much of a creep he must look like, watching her from the window. His cheeks heat up, that panicky feeling pumping through his heart. She smiles and waves. It only makes it worse. He feels as if he could melt into a puddle, right there on the sidewalk. He manages his own smile and wave, and she moves her arm in a ‘come here!’ motion. 

It feels like he’s stuck in quicksand, the world slowing down as he enters the building. He’s not sure why, but it feels much more real this time. He’s come for her, and her only. There’s no more pretenses, no more games. It scares the living daylights out of him. He keeps walking, anyway. 

He’s greeted by Myrtle, her knowing smile growing bigger as she sees him. He offers her a polite nod, before beelining directly for the children’s area. 

“Uncle Spencer!” Two little voices cry out as Henry and Michael wrap themselves around his legs. He feels her eyes snap towards the noise, a pretty smile lining her lips as she watches the scene. 

“Hi boys!” He whispers, trying not to cause any more commotion.

He settles in behind the boys, Will giving him a very knowing nod. The small bodies quiet at her request as she opens the book. The Very Hungry Caterpillar rests delicately between her fingers, manicured nails flipping through the pages with ease. 

He watches in awe as she reads, the way she’s able to captivate a group of children, the adults, even, the ease with which she switches in and out of her goofy voices. It’s a talent. One that Spencer would do anything to watch behind the scenes. Each fruit and food mentioned gets their own moment, a stuffed apple resting on her lap, bowls of strawberries, grapes, and oranges lining the table next to her as the caterpillar wiggles his way through each food. 

By the end, the kids all have sticky faces and fingers, the smiles not leaving their faces. She’s met with raucous applause afterwards, Spencer can’t resist joining in. She rests the book in her lap and leans forward.

“Thank you so much for coming, my friends!” She squeals. “If you planted some seeds last week, we will be going out to the garden to look at our progress! If you didn’t get a chance to, don’t worry! We have plenty of seeds leftover! Please form a quiet line at the door!” 

He’s speechless at the way she commands the room, the kids wiggling around each other to get to the front. Spencer laughs at their attempts to be as quiet as possible, all while wanting to be as close as possible to their favorite librarian. He knows the feeling well. 

He finds himself back where he was a week before, waiting with Henry and Michael, waiting for her to notice him. Waiting. That pang returns, the one he’s felt these past few weeks. The waiting, the wanting, the longing. It’s almost too much for him to bear as she nears closer, her eyes alight at the work the kids have done. They shine even brighter when she reaches him, her hands clasped to her chest. 

“Wow, boys! Look at what you did! You made that! Be proud of yourself!” She’s crouched down at their level, holding her hand up for enthusiastic high fives. 

Henry’s nearly knocks her off kilter, but she readjusts on small kitten heels that Spencer has decided are the bane of his existence. They’re cute, pink sandals with a bow at the top. All he can think about is how they’d look at his front door, resting next to his Converse. 

He shakes that thought off when her gaze turns to him. By some grace of a higher power, his brain functions enough to offer her a hand. She accepts it as she rises back up, holding onto his hand for just a moment longer than necessary. It’s electric, energy charging  through his veins at her touch. It’s static on his heart, electrocuting him and rendering him completely helpless. Helpless to her. 

“Hello Spencer, it’s good to see you again,” her voice is small, flirty yet professional. She smooths down the fabric of her dress, her eyes scanning him up and down. He shifts, self consciously, but the small smile on her lips tells him she’s not judging. She never has. 

“Oh! Mr. LaMontagne, forgive me, it’s great to see you again,” she jumps, shaking his hand with forgiveness. 

Will holds a hand out, nodding his head in understanding. “No worries, doll. This has been a bit of a team effort,” he jokes, referencing between Spencer and her. 

“Oh, goodness,” she says, gentle but embarrassed. She tucks her hair behind her ears. Spencer’s officially fallen. Hard. Will nods, moving away to be with the boys. 

“So, Spencer…” She trails off, and he can’t help himself. 

“Will you go out with me?” Spencer burts. Her face lights up. “We just keep missing each other, and I think you’re incredibly beautiful and so amazing at your job. I just want to get to know you more, if you’ll let me.”His smile is bashful to match hers, his cheeks tinted a bright red. 

“That sounds amazing, thank you for thinking of me, Spencer,” her voice is so soft, he could wrap himself in it like a blanket. He breathes out a laugh, as if he could think about anything other than her. 

She grabs a pink marker from the pocket of her dress and flips his palm over. He’s once again rendered useless by her touch. He feels some ticklish scribbles, his eyes trained on her the entire time. She looks up at him through her lashes, meeting his gaze. The sight constricts his heart, those eyes gripping it firmly, squeezing for all its worth. He needs a nurse. 

“Call me, we’ll set something up,” she mutters lowly, a wink punctuating her words. Spencer nods his head bashfully, heat once again singing his cheeks. 

“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” he replies. He gives himself some grace, it’s all his brain can come up with. 

He watches her go, eyes trained on her as she continues to work her magic. The way she lights up at each child, finding something new and unique in each of them warms his heart. He smiles, eager for what the future could hold with such a sweet soul.

[frailsituation]

Tips for building immersive plots

1. Start with your core idea

• Every plot begins with a spark—a question, a concept, or a character. Build from that seed.

• How? Ask, "What excites me about this story?" and focus your energy there.

• Example: A story about a magical curse could explore themes of redemption or betrayal.

2. Brainstorm freely

• Don’t start by thinking about structure. Instead, write down every idea you have—plot points, character traits, world details—without judgment.

• How? Use mind maps, lists, or “what if” questions to expand your ideas.

• Example: “What if two rival kingdoms were forced to unite to stop a shared enemy?”

3. Map out key events

• Divide your plot into beginning, middle, and end, and identify major turning points. These events should shape the character’s journey.

• How? Use the three-act structure, or simply think in terms of setup, confrontation, and resolution.

• Example:

Beginning: A thief steals a sacred artifact.

Middle: The artifact begins to curse them, forcing them to seek help.

End: They must choose between keeping the artifact’s power or destroying it.

4. Plan with cause and effect

• Immersive plots follow logical progression. Ask yourself: “What happens because of this event?” for every key moment.

• How? Make sure each event impacts the characters or world.

• Example: A hero saves a village → the village leader reveals a secret about the hero’s past → this drives the hero to confront their estranged parent.

5. Flesh out your subplots

• Subplots add depth and make your world feel real. Tie them to the main plot for maximum impact.

• How? Use subplots to explore secondary characters, add emotional stakes, or introduce twists.

• Example: While on a mission to defeat a villain, the hero struggles to repair their broken friendship with their ally.

6. use story beats to stay organized

• Break your story into smaller moments: inciting incident, midpoint twist, climax, resolution.

• How? Write one sentence for each beat to outline the flow of your story.

• Example:

Inciting incident: A cursed item bonds to the protagonist.

Midpoint: They discover the curse is tied to a powerful enemy.

Climax: They must sacrifice their freedom to destroy the curse.

7. Think of immersive twists

• Twists keep readers engaged and make your story unforgettable. They should feel earned, not random.

• How? Ask, "What would surprise the reader but make sense in hindsight?"

• Example: The mentor helping the hero turns out to have caused the conflict in the first place.

8. Build emotional stakes

• Plot isn’t just about events—it’s about how those events affect your characters. The stakes should feel deeply personal.

• How? Tie the plot to your protagonist’s fears, desires, and growth.

• Example: A hero who’s afraid of failure is forced to lead a mission where the cost of failure is catastrophic.

9. Create a planning routine

• Writing immersive plots takes time and refinement. Set aside regular sessions to brainstorm, refine, and test your ideas.

• How? Use tools like storyboarding, sticky notes, or apps like Scrivener to organize your ideas.

• Example: Start each session by reviewing your previous notes, then tackle one section of your plot.

10. Test your plot

• Once you’ve mapped out your story, summarize it to see if it holds together. Does each event flow logically? Are the stakes clear?

• How? Share your outline with a friend or writer’s group for feedback.

• Example: “A reluctant hero must destroy a magical artifact to save their world, but doing so will cost them their memories.”

Follow for more!

[noctiva]

omg hai me again! (first time anon…well, second time now)

i would KILL for those relationship hcs with toby, i love him so much, i wanna give him a good life :( poor guys honestly through so much ughhhhh

okay bai bai!

(im definitely gonna be back, maybe 🌝 anon? watch out :3)

I got you!! let’s get it!

—

Toby Rogers - Relationship HCs [SFW + NSFW!]

CW: NSFW content! Descriptions of and mentions of sexual acts, mentions of pregnancy and breeding, mentions of violence + murder, toxic behaviour, possessive + jealous behaviour, mentions of fighting w/ a partner (verbally and physically)

[PSA! I’m dividing this into two separate sections because I have two separate headcanons for toby dearest, as you can read about here!]

-

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

-

For me, how Toby would act in a relationship is dependent on if he’s retained his past memories or not! Let’s talk about both <3

Memories intact! [SFW]

A loverboy in the most fucked up sense of the word

Lives each day wondering how on earth he manage to land you, and is partially convinced you’re a figment of his imagination because of how goddamn perfect you are in his eyes.

Because of this, he is a bit… Clingy. When you first meet, all of the ‘what if’s’ are drowned out by how intense his emotions are - but once he gets situated, the shock melts away for thoughts much more destructive.

Toby puts you on a pedestal. Like some sort of goddess compared to him. So sweet, pure, and untainted by the horrors he’s been subjected to.

So, the awe of being with you very quickly becomes bordered with the overwhelming fear that you’ll one day grow bored of him.

Or worse, one day grow scared of him.

His jealousy is absolutely volatile when left unchecked. His thoughts spiral quickly, and he feels things very intensely.

Laughed at a joke another proxy made? Oh, must mean that you like them more than him. Share a cigarette with Tim because you ran out? Yeah, you guys definitely must be fucking behind his back.

Oh, and if they’re not a fellow proxy? Yeah, they’re good as dead if they so much as hold a door open for you.

It’s… an issue, to say the least. It gets to the point where you can’t even look at another man without Toby twisting himself into a knot.

Like a dog, growling at anyone who even comes close to its territory.

And don’t… Don’t try to reason with him. He won’t budge, no matter how many times you try to calm him down.

And if you’re really insistent about it, things can get messy fast.

Immediately, he’ll be convinced all of his worst nightmares are unfolding before his eyes. Because why would you be trying to get him to stop protecting you? It must be because you’re guilty, in one way or another.

I will not lie to you, he gets so nasty and mean when he’s like this. Name calling, being purposefully harsh just to spite you, before he inevitably disappears without warning for a few hours to try and cool off.

(He is a walking tornado when he’s like this btw. If something gets close to him, it’s getting butchered). So, it’s a good thing he knows to distance himself.

But, you suppose you can’t really blame him. Every thing else that he’s ever loved was ripped up from under his feet, right before his eyes.

Needless to say, he needs constant reassurance.

You could never say ‘I love you’ too many times to him. Every single time it feels like a blessing. Like it’s the first time all over again.

His love languages are words of affirmation, gift giving and physical touch.

Big emphasis on the latter. He needs to be touching you like all the time.

A hand tucked into your back pocket as you stand beside him, playing with your hair as you rest your head on his lap. Arms circled around your waist as you prepare dinner, shuffling around the kitchen behind you as he nibbles at your neck softly.

Did I mention he likes to bite? Because he does. A lot.

A lot of the time, it isn’t even of sexual nature, he’s just got an oral fixation. If you weren’t around, he’d be biting his nails to the bone, or chewing on the strings of his hoodie.

But he does have you! So you’re getting nibbled on instead <3

Lazily dragging his teeth against your shoulder blades as you lay in bed cuddling together. Nibbling on your thumbs and fingers absentmindedly as you watch a movie together. Sneaking up behind you just to catch the meat of your neck between his teeth, biting hard enough to leave indentations behind before he just goes about his day as if nothing happened.

It doesn’t help that you taste so good - but we’ll get into that later.

His other love language - gift giving - is just as prominent.

In my general headcanons for him, I mentioned that Toby likes to search the forest for pretty things when he’s out and about. If he’s in a relationship, yeah that increases tenfold.

He’s like a fucking crow. Constantly bringing home shiny rocks and cool bones he came across. Wildflowers too, which he’ll haphazardly tie into a makeshift bouquet before giving to you.

If any of his victims are wearing jewelry - yeah, that’s getting snatched. It’s not like they need it now, and it would definitely look better on his baby anyway.

(You’ve learned to stop asking where they’re coming from).

He pampers and dotes on you to an almost annoying degree btw. But as I mentioned before, he’s pretty much convinced you’re a deity, so that’s what you deserve.

He loves to take care of you. It makes him feel like he’s deserving of your presence. (Though, he really doesn’t need to prove himself to you, but it’s a whole mental thing you won’t be able to talk him out of).

He will literally learn skills just to make your life easier. Gets better at hunting so that you don’t have to worry about where to find food. Figures out how to skin and butcher animals so that you don’t have to deal with the gore. Will build furniture for you if you mention you want something once. (“It’d be nice to have a swing in the back for the summer.” Boom. You’ve got one the next day.)

He’ll wash your hair, sew up your clothes, wake up early just so that you have a cup of coffee before your eyes even flutter open.

Because, again, that’s what you deserve.

I will mention this again he is SOOOOOO clingy! He’ll come home from a mission and immediately be seeking you out, pulling you into an embrace before even washing the blood from his skin.

Very outdoorsy too, so expect lots of long nature walks and picnics.

Memories intact! [NSFW]

Remember how I said he thinks you taste good?

Good fucking luck because when you guys are getting down and dirty, it’s gonna feel like he’s trying to literally consume you.

He will sink his teeth into wherever he can find purchase. Your neck, shoulders, thighs, chest, ass - nothing is spared. You’re gonna look like you got attacked by a wolf when it’s all over.

And his possessiveness definitely plays a part.

He wants you covered in his marks. Wants people to know you’re his with just one glance at you.

He’ll bite hard enough to bruise, hard enough to bleed - and then he’ll suck at the wound to draw more out. Loving the taste of your blood on his tongue, but also needing the mark he leaves behind to be as dark as possible.

Honestly, I’m gonna be fr, he’d probably carve his initials into your thigh if you’d let him.

Gotta let everyone know who you belong to!

You, will never forget that fact. Because in bed, it seems like his main mission is to drill that idea into your brain.

He’ll usually start out gentle, but that never lasts long. He’ll have you sobbing by the time it’s all over. Fucking as many orgasms out of you as you can take.

And that man’s got stamina. So, good luck trying not to pass out.

He can’t feel the pain and soreness of his muscles, so it doesn’t matter to him. He’ll keep going until he’s shooting blanks LMAO

And he’s… well endowed. So you’re gonna be feeling it for a few days after.

I’m gonna give him a solid 6.5 inches. Not too girthy, but enough for you to really feel the stretch.

I don’t make the rules. He’s a dorky, scrawny white boy, alright? I have quite literally never been with one that wasn’t packing 🫡

Pleasure is like, the one intense sensation he can feel, so he’s pretty hypersexual tbh. It’s the only thing that breaks through the numbness he’s always drowning in.

I personally believe Toby’s not a snivelling virgin, but anyone else he’s been with before you simply do not exist to him the moment you first bare it all for him.

You practically rewrote his brain, and now he’s convinced that everyone else on earth pales in comparison. And he’s obsessive about it.

He’s almost always horny over you LMAOOO his libido is off the charts.

But it’s not his fault!! You’re just so pretty! You literally don’t even have to do anything. He’ll pop a boner just from watching you brush your hair.

(Before you guys officially started dating, he jacked off to the thought of you more times than he will ever admit. Jacked off to pictures of you even more often).

And, he’s not too well versed in self-control, so the moment he gets the urge - expect to be practically pounced on.

Does not matter where you are. Bedroom, kitchen, in the woods, in an alley, shoved into a gas station bathroom. He doesn’t care. Let someone walk in on you, let them alllll know who’s fucking you good.

He’s a bit of an exhibitionist if I will be honest, and it’s partially motivated by his need to let everyone know that you’re his. The type to try and convince you to cockwarm him while you’re sitting in the corner of a room full of people.

I have mentioned this many times on my blog, Toby is a grade A fucking munch. The man loves to eat pussy. I would argue it’s his favourite pastime.

He will spend literal hours down there if you let him. Moaning into you as he claws at your hips with blunt fingernails, nipping and biting at your thighs between licks.

He will cum untouched. He is crazy sensitive and just the taste of you will get him so hard it will definitely end with him dirtying his boxers.

But just as much as that, he loves it when you go down on him too.

He’s a bit of a sadist (which I will touch on in a moment), so he loves to watch you struggle and choke to take him all. Loves how you whimper around him and your eyebrows furrow. He loves the sight of your pretty tears like most.

So much, that he’ll lick them off your cheeks.

Also, German dirty talk! He almost always slips into his mother tongue when he’s deep in it.

“So eine gute kleine Schlampe.”

“Hübsches Lamm, ich weiß, du kannst mehr ertragen.”

Speaking of talk, dude is fucking NOISY. He’s always gotta be saying something.

Mindless babble about how good you feel between strained grunts and groans. Drool smearing against your neck as he moans about how much he loves you, how he’s so lucky to have you, how he can’t believe that you’re his.

“Du gehörst mir, Baby. Vergiss das nie.”

“Mein Mädchen. Mein Ein und Alles.”

The only way he’s quiet is if he’s got a face full of pussy tbh.

But don’t forget to praise him too! I already told you he needs affirmation on a daily basis this definitely carries into the bedroom.

Tell him how good he makes you feel, how full he gets you, and he will fucking fold.

(Don’t be afraid to call him a good boy either. He’ll get so flustered and blush so pretty).

Oh, and he’s got a breeding kink.

Not like.. Seriously, because he’s well aware that being a father isn’t in his cards.

But the idea of knocking you up makes him downright feral.

That’s like, the ultimate claim. It’s the dream, for someone as sickeningly possessive as him.

(And he’d bet you’d look even more beautiful pregnant).

So if you’re on the pill, expect endless creampies.

And if you’re not, expect him to act like a big baby about it.

It’s just not as satisfying to cum on you, it should be in you. That’s where it belongs.

Either way, he’s not wearing a condom. The type to call it ‘restrictive’ or ‘suffocating’. His pull out game is strong though, luckily.

(Though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t often think about just cumming inside you and dealing with the consequences later. He’s selfish like that. But he’d never actually do it.)

It’s alright though. Just let him cum down your throat and that’ll placate him a little.

Okay, let’s get into the nitty gritty. He is a sadist 100% no and ifs or buts about it. He can’t feel pain himself, so he is so morbidly fascinated with how people react to it. Especially you. You just look so lovely when your face is scrunched up in agony, pretty tears flowing down your cheeks.

He’d never hurt you bad enough to be worrisome, but he will draw blood and leave bruises. He will test you, to see just how much you can take.

And I don’t know if I can call him a masochist, because again - he can’t feel it - BUT he LOVES IT when you get rough with him too.

Claw at his back until the skin tears. Tug at his hair hard enough to make his scalp throb. Bite him, and draw some blood in return. Really makes him feel wanted and desired.

He is the absolute king of aftercare though, despite his roughness.

Will run you a bath and carry you to it. Wash you clean of all the blood and grime smeared across your skin. You can even fall asleep if you want, he’ll tend to you with the utmost care before drying you off and carrying you back to bed.

And when you wake up, he’s right there next to you with a glass of water and painkillers in hand.

oh toby,,, my dear boyfailure,, at the end of the day his toxic traits all boil down to being scared to lose you.

but! if he lost his memories…

Memories wiped! [SFW]

Baby… good fucking luck.

You will literally be competing for attention with an eldritch entity so… I hope you’ve got strong willpower and determination.

Toby is Slender’s golden boy, and for good reason. He’s a 6’1, absolute tank of a man who can’t feel pain. His endurance is whacked, his dedication and devotion rivals that of the looniest heretic, and he’s damn good at his job. You could break his jaw and claw his eyes out and you will still lose.

(In this scenario, you would have to be a fellow proxy. If not, the only relationship you’re getting with Toby is being one of his victims. This man’s brain is so rotted you may as well be trying to seduce a fucking rock.)

So, with the first big change from before; you will have to be the one perusing him. The Toby from the first scenario would be pining over you pathetically. This one? He could not give a rats ass about starting any form of relationship. It’s just a distraction from his purpose.

And I’m so sorry, but you will be making a fool out of yourself for a least a couple months before he caves. He will not reciprocate your flirting at all before you wriggle under his skin, and if anything he’ll just view you as a fucking nuisance.

He has half the mind to not complain about you to Slender and get you tortured into submission.

But, he doesn’t. Maybe from lingering remnants of the compassion he had lost, or maybe because he knows you’re not technically doing anything wrong.

As long as you’re both getting your job’s done, you can make goo goo eyes at him all you want. Doesn’t matter to him.

Until it doessssss <3

It is a very slow process, and he is so not on board. If you thought he was snippy with you before, the moment feelings start to fester within him he is INSUFFERABLE. So mean for no fucking reason. Avoiding you at all costs if he can help it.

(such a tsundere <3)

No, it’s actually because he’s trying to get you to hate him so that he can finally get the distance he so clearly needs from you. He can’t afford to put his energy into romance. He’s more of a pawn than a man, it just feels… Wrong.

But, you know what they say! The heart wants what it wants! (Even if his brain is wholeheartedly trying to fight it).

He’d indulge himself in small doses. Snapping pictures of you when you aren’t looking, sneaking into your room to steal pieces of your clothing for the scent (we will touch on this more later).

And he hates it, because it is never enough to placate him. He’s always left yearning for more with fantasies of you flashing behind his eyes - and it is agonizing to deal with.

But at the same time, he doesn’t want it to stop, because it makes him feel… Almost nostalgic for a life he can’t even remember. A time when he could, and would form relationships with people. A time when there was more to life, than just - wake up, slaughter, sleep, repeat.

So, his willpower eventually wanes, and you notice it immediately.

He’s no longer mean for no reason. Only when you’re reckless and get yourself hurt, or if another proxy is picking on you. And he’ll constantly manage to wriggle his way onto whatever mission you’re going on.

He becomes a guard dog basically. And people will notice, because he is not subtle. He will flash his hatchets if someone looks at you wrong.

Again though, this will move SLOWWWW. The hating you phase will last months. The bodyguard phase will also last months. I hope you like slow burn because you guys will probably not kiss until over a year into knowing each other.

And when you do, it’s because he just can’t take it anymore. His imagination isn’t cutting it. It feels like you’ve infected him, and the longer he abstains, the worse his gut wrenching longing becomes.

So, on a mission together after finishing off your kill, he’ll pull you to the side and draw you in close.

He’ll search your face with manic eyes, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, thoughts pinging around in his brain at a mile a minute. And then, he’ll finally cave and press his lips to yours - right above the corpse you had just slain. How romantic <3

From there, I hope you don’t have second thoughts, because you’re in it for the long haul now. He will not be letting you go. He basically rewrote his entire mind for you, it would be cruel to back out now.

You thought the Toby I talked about before was obsessive? AHAHAHAHA

This man’s entire life revolves around two things; Slender and you, and he’s just as devoted to both.

He will not be leaving your side for even a second at a time if he can help it.

Except for when he wakes up from a random blackout and finds himself alone in the middle of nowhere. Which used to just be another day in the biz, but with you in the equation? He is panicking the moment he realizes you’re not next to him.

He is constantly worrying about, or thinking about you. And if he has to go on a mission away from you? He’ll act like the world is ending.

He won’t be leaving without a few articles of your clothing, and maybe (definitely) a few pictures.

He does get in trouble quite a few times, because he’ll start to get sloppy. Rushing through missions without a lack of care, just so that he can get home to you faster.

And you’ll take some of the fall too. Slender’s not stupid, and he’ll be well aware of why his once efficient killing machine has become lacklustre at best. Expect frequent bouts of Slender sickness throughout the duration of your relationship - just getting more and more intense with each iteration. As I said, I hope you’ve got a lot of willpower! Because you will be thrown through the wringer if you want to stay with him.

Toby will notice this though. It’s hard not to, either how you’re constantly nauseous, bleeding, and in a state of crippling paranoia, so he’ll force himself to be better - if only for your sake.

Surprisingly, this Toby is not as jealous or possessive. He doesn’t remember the pain of losing his loved ones, and with how much effort you put into courting him - he’s not scared that you’re going to leave him.

You would never, if you knew what’s good for you :)

As I said before - Jealous? no. Obsessive and protective? Uh huh.

He will kill anything that even thinks about hurting you. And if he can’t kill them (because of immortality or whatever), he’ll make them wish they were dead. It’s not torture if it’s justified, right?

Also, you’ll have to be patient with him. He’s not at all accustomed to this whole… Caring for other people thing. So he can’t really help how intensely he feels for you. Remember your first love? Yeah, it’s that. Plus a whole bucketload of hysteria.

He will take it as a personal attack if you want alone time. He wants to be with you all the time, so why wouldn’t you want that with him? You’re the one who sought him out.

He will be using that as a way to deflect any blame away from his toxic behaviour, btw. You lured him in. You wanted this. You’ll have to reap the consequences.

And despite how much he may want to be good for you, you really can’t ask much from a man who’s been trained to be as apathetic as humanly possible.

He’s got the attitude problems of a snot-nosed teenage boy. He will call you a bitch just for asking him to maybe change out of his bloody clothes before sitting on the couch. He will call you a nag, and stupid, and whatever nasty word comes to mind at the time. He’s horrible tbh. Gets real nasty if he’s in a mood.

And to be honest, he’s in a mood quite often, because he’s pretty prone to pushing himself until he’s near delirious from exhaustion.

And it sucks, but his conditioned mind just does not feel sympathy. You could be screaming your lungs out at him, practically pulling your hair out with tears streaming down your face, and all you’ll get in response is his default look of apathy.

Because to him, it’s not that deep. It’s not like he’s trying to fucking kill you. All he did was belittle and make a joke out of every single issue you’re having with him.

He’s actually the worst I’m sorry. But that’s what he’s supposed to be. He wasn’t programmed to partake in a cushy, loving relationship.

That doesn’t mean actually he hates you though, or means any of the fucked up shit he says, he’s entire view of love is just warped as hell. He’s pretty much convinced you being with him is just a given.

You guys will obviously fight a lot. Verbally and physically. It is a common sight for other proxies to see you and Toby brawling in the middle of the grass for the third time that week.

But when you guys are good, you’re really fucking good. You’re his glimpse into what life could be, and though he’s not the best at showing it, he really does love you for it.

So much that he’ll gift you a still beating heart on Valentine’s Day, along with a bouquet of wildflowers. Aw <3

Dates with him include: hunting together, axe throwing competitions(he always wins, obviously), long nature walks, going on missions together, scary movie nights where you both laugh at how unrealistic the gore is.

And because you are literally the first close relationship he’s ever had (or that he can remember) expect him to be making the most of it.

Touching and kissing you whenever he can. Even if there’s people around. He’s the king of PDA he does not give a fuck.

He likes it when you wear his clothes (especially his goggles… maybe a little too much) because it makes you look… His. And it’s weird, knowing that you are. That you’ve chosen to be around him, and he does revel in that fact every single day - even if he does kinda suck.

And over time, you will mellow him out, just like how you did in the beginning. He will never be a cushy soft, lovesick puppy, but he will eventually come to realize that maybe he shouldn’t be so much of an asshole to the woman who sticks by his side through it all.

And it’ll only go up from there!

Memories wiped! [SFW]

Okay, this Toby is a raging virgin. He was a heavily bullied outcast before becoming a mindless slave to Slender. He did not have time, nor care for any of that shit.

And it shows. At first, he’s so uncoordinated and messy. Too much tongue in his kisses, can’t find the clit to save his life - it’s… A mess. But what he lacks in experience he will make up for with enthusiasm.

He’s been fucking his own hand for way too long man, never once thinking about the fact that there could definitely be so much better out there.

So, he’s practically buzzing with excitement the first time you guys have sex. He’ll be twitching like a madman, tics going into overdrive as absolute elation and desire courses through his veins.

You will have to verbally tell him to slow down multiple times, because he’ll be like a freight train just trying to get to the good part. Practically tearing your clothes off, trying to just trying to shove his cock into you without an ounce of prep.

This man has been so isolated he didn’t even watch porn before meeting you, he has NO clue what to do with no reference point to go off of. All he’s got for sexual experience is the few Playboy mags he snagged from a house he broke into.

You’ll have to teach him <3

Be patient, and go easy on the teasing - his ego is very easily bruised.

And he will be busting quick. Absolute two pump chump. But he will get better with time, obviously. It’s just the first time he sinks into your heat it’s the most indescribable pleasure. Absolute heaven. Easily the best thing he’s felt in his entire life, so you can’t really blame him for the way he’s gasping and moaning against your neck after only a few strokes.

He’s got stamina though, so he won’t be quitting after that don’t you worry. He’ll go for as long as it takes to figure out how to make you cum too.

Lucky for you, he’s a quick learner if you guide him, and he’ll mentally bookmark everything that makes you moan louder or twitch beneath him.

Once the first time is out of the way, he’s just as horny (if not more) as his memory having counterpart.

Because you’re telling him that was what he was missing out on??? Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell him??

Gotta make up for lost time! First few weeks of you properly dating will be marathon sex for days on end. He just can’t get enough of you. Never wants to get enough of you. Wants to try anything and everything, learning as he goes what he likes the best.

And what he likes the best, is being a subby little baby.

I KID but for real though, the kicker here is that this Toby would be way more of a sub than the other one I talked about.

All he does, all the time, is put on a strong face and work himself to the bone. It feels nice, to just shut his brain off and let you take the ropes for the most part.

And taking orders from you, feels so much better. Because they’re not things he has to do, they’re things he wants to do.

He loves when you’re on top, holding his chest down with one hand as you set the pace.

Loves to eat you out, loves it even more when you sit on his face.

Remember how I said you guys will fight a lot? Now is the time to get your frustrations out on him.

You can be mean, and he’ll just take it. Cockwarm him and refuse to move, swat his hands away when he tries to grab at your hips and force you to. Edge him. Make him cum untouched as you ride his tongue. Grind against his cock until he’s pleading you to just please let him inside you.

Knock him down a peg, he sure as hell needs it.

Outside of the bedroom, he’ll never admit how much he likes it, but you know. That pretty blush of his doesn’t lie, and if he really wanted to overpower you he definitely could.

He’s messy. Drooling, leaking tears when it gets to be almost too much.

And he’s loud. Like, not a fucking care in the world if someone might hear you. You’d have to literally gag him if you want him to quiet down.

(Which, he would also probably like).

Loves it when you mark him up, but you’ve got to get some in return too - matching hickeys so that everyone knows you’re together.

Like in the first part, sometimes you’ll wonder if he’s trying to literally consume you with how often he’s sinking his teeth into you - but the difference is, this time, he’s actually thinking about it.

He’s got cannibalistic tendencies on a day to day basis, so when his brain is all fogged up but lust and desire they just become worse.

He will bite too hard. Locking his jaw onto the muscles of your shoulder as he thinks about tearing away and pulling your flesh from bone.

He won’t… But he will come close.

Also, before you guys got together, remember how I said he’d steal pieces of your clothing? Yeah, it’s mostly panties. Used ones, if he’s lucky (he’s so nasty).

He’d have his nose buried in one pair while using another one to stroke his cock.

This is something that he will still do even after you start dating, especially if either of you are away on a mission for an extended period of time.

Only now he’ll actually return them to you - a smirk on his face as he slips the freshly stained garments back into your underwear drawer, hoping that maybe one morning you’ll slip them on without noticing.

okay! that’s all I have to say (finally). so…. pick your poison!

-

holy fucking shit I meant for this to just be a nice, easy to put together hc list that I could post while working on a full length fic.

nope. this took me half a week because I just kept going and going

sigh.

[heartyluv]

Note: The amount of love you luvlys have shown me for this mini-series has not only shocked me, but it’s made me so happy. Music is one of my favorite ways to show emotions in my writing so as you read, I’ve included two songs to represent both the POV of you and Caleb. You can reread the section where they appear and think of what both of them are thinking and feeling, if you’d like. But, I don’t wanna yap your head off, so I’ll let you get right into it. I hope you enjoy!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the pink dividers! I don’t know who to credit for the plane, but I got it off of @/aew-regression-cove!

Warning: Caleb masturbates, mentions of you wanting to masturbate, very brief mention of depression after the divorce. Other than that, this is just really fluffy and cutsey.

Word Count: 4.6K+ (WOWWW) !!MDNI!!

Summary: Part three to Ex-Husband!Caleb

Part One • Part Two • Part Four

Ex-Husband!Caleb/Reader ~ Part Three

Caleb couldn’t help himself as he stood in the shower and fisted his cock the more he thought about you. While the hot water fell onto his body and trailed down his muscles, his mouth stayed slightly parted the closer he got to finishing.

He’s supposed to be getting ready for the date he had finally gotten together for you. He was on track up until he came to shower and began to lather himself in a mix of yours and his favorite body washes.

Caleb never stopped buying a lot of things that reminded him of you after the divorce. Like your favorite shampoo, a small bottle of your signature perfume to spritz around his lonely apartment when he missed you a little too much, and even down to the honey body soap that had the privilege of touching your soft skin everyday.

When he pumped a small amount into his hand and started to rub it down his stomach, his mind instantly went to all the times he used to join you in the shower when you least expected it. How your wet body was so eager to press against his.

He thought about your pretty tits that you’d let him hold and suck on, about how wet your pussy got for him when he’d lift you up without a second thought to wrap your legs around him. How he’d slide into your cunt as his tongue made love to your mouth and neck.

There was no guilt in his system as he firmly grasped his cock and teased his slit with his thumb like your tongue used to do. None of that existed when he came so hard that he had to brace a hand on the tile wall to keep himself steady while his cum hit the shower floor. He breathed deeply, watching his spend fall into the drain.

Determination coiled through him because he was certain that everything was happening the way that it should be. He’d get all of that back and it would be more—better. How could it not be if it was given to him by you?

You sat side by side with your mother in the living room as you folded the laundry you helped her with this morning. It was a beautiful Saturday, Mother Nature granting you the opportunity to enjoy temperatures a little more tolerable than anticipated in early February.

Jonah and Blythe were sitting on the floor next to each other, indulging in the cartoon on TV while they snacked on a small plate of their favorite fruits.

“What time are you leaving, love?” your mother Casandra asked as you handed her a few towels you finished up. “Forgot to ask when you got here earlier.”

“Caleb said he’d be here by three,” you confirm, watching how she purses her lips with a gentle nod.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “Just…I’m shocked you’re really going for this again, is all.”

You plop the shirt you’re holding down on your lap with a frown. “I thought you were okay with Caleb, ma.”

“While I may not hate the man, I’m not too fond of him and neither is your father. You know that.”

When you told your mom about what Caleb was putting you through before you separated, she wanted to hurt him for hurting you. Especially when she found out about all the times you felt so isolated in your marriage—a bond that’s supposed to do the opposite for people who genuinely love each other.

Your father Simon on the other hand? Caleb was lucky he never got his hands on him.

Simon is a man who absolutely values the women in his life and wasn’t someone who believed that second chances existed when you screwed up as badly as Caleb did, but he respected and trusted you enough to make your own decisions. Still, it didn’t mean he had to like it.

It’s why he’s been in the garage all day after you asked them if they could watch the kids until tomorrow morning so you could attend the date Caleb asked you on about two weeks after that night of Jonah’s game.

“I really think he regrets it all and that he’s changed,” you say with confidence, thinking of all he’s done so far to show how committed he is to righting his wrongs.

“That’s not up for me to decide. It’s your heart that has to deal with the consequences.” She stops her folding to put her attention on you when it grows silent besides the goofy laughs from your kids about whatever happened in the show they’re watching. She places her hand on yours for comfort.

“Look, your dad and I saw what everything did to you. We saw how depressed you became, how hard it got for you to function. He crushed that heart of yours and it took us all a long time to put a semblance of that spark back in you. I refuse to let him be the reason it’s gone again.”

If it weren’t for your parents and your kids, you’re convinced that you would’ve lost yourself. You stayed with them for a few months after the papers were signed because you couldn’t deal with being in the home that really felt like a hollow house with Caleb gone entirely. On days where you couldn’t get out of bed, they helped with the babies. When you couldn’t eat, they’d feed you. When you were weak, they were your strength.

You understood their hesitation. It was valid for what you went through—an experience that trickled into them and has poisoned their view of Caleb.

“I understand,” you sigh. “Just give him a chance? That’s all I ask.”

“I have no choice if he plans on marrying you again like you say,” she smirks knowingly. “We’ll see about your father, though. And don’t you need to start getting dressed?”

She pats your knee and you raise a brow. “It’s only 10 o’clock.”

“But I know you. You’re going to want to look and be your absolute best. You’ll need as much time as possible so that you aren’t stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing a moment ago, but maybe I should be?” You chuckle at how she nudges your arm playfully.

But rather than feeling that way, you’re nothing but excited about what today will bring—even if you have no clue what Caleb has planned. All he told you to do was come comfortable and prepared for walking, so that’s what you intended to do.

As the day went on, it wasn’t until about one in the afternoon when you started to get ready. You boosted yourself up with some music, singing along to lyrics that fueled your spirit. You decided to wear a simple maroon mermaid skirt, a cream colored blouse with puffy sleeves, and your favorite simple white pair of sneakers.

Your mother was right about you taking your time, but it was only because you’ve been so indecisive. You’d been fiddling with your hair in the mirror for an hour now. It took some effort, but once you figured it out—albeit still not entirely satisfied—you kept your makeup simple, covering a few blemishes, adding some eyeliner, and dabbing your lips with a thin layer of gloss.

You were thankful she put the kids down for a nap so you didn’t have to worry about them trying to bombard you and Caleb with questions about where you two were going and why they couldn’t join. Checking the time on your phone, you knew you were bound to get a—

The music playing lowly from the speaker ceased as a call came through. It was 2:56 when Caleb’s contract flashed across the screen, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. You took a deep breath before answering, now feeling those nerves you didn’t have before begin to bloom.

“Hey,” you answered softly.

“Hey, pretty. I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You grinned obnoxiously hard to yourself. “Coming out now.”

You cleaned up quickly and found your mom sitting in the kitchen, reading a book quietly.

“I’m heading out,” you call as you make your way to the front door to grab your purse. “Dad’s still outside?”

Cassandra smiles at you, looking you over. “You look gorgeous. And yes,” she huffs. “He’s still in the back. You want me to get him?”

You shake your head, knowing he’ll come around when he’s ready. Whenever that is.

“It’s okay. Thank you for watching the kids for me, mom.” You run up to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, okay?”

“I love you, too. Say hi to Caleb for me.”

You nod, happy that despite the things she rightfully feels, she’s willing to try.

Once you step outside, you see Caleb climb out of the car and make his way to you. He’s wearing navy blue slacks with a black turtle neck top tucked into them and a deep blue leather jacket. You can’t take your eyes off of him and he must notice your lingering gaze since he throws you that know-it-all boyish grin the closer he gets.

“I guess I did good?” he teases, holding his arms out as if he were showing himself off.

“Really good,” you emphasize. You’ve decide that there’s no need to play coy anymore. Both of you knew what you’re here for and what your intentions are. Caleb has noticed how you lean into the reality of that a lot easier now, and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” His tone deepens and his eyes make a pit stop on all his favorite parts of you—which is admittedly everywhere. “You look really good yourself.”

“Just good?”

“I could say more, but then we’d miss our plans.”

“Would that be so bad?” You flutter your eyelashes with faux innocence, playing along with the flirtatious banter.

He gently bites his lip, feeling the buzz in his body from how you tease him. It doesn’t help when he thinks about what he did only a few hours ago.

“That mouth always was dangerous, wasn’t she?” He holds his hand out for you.

“You’d know,” you slide yours into his. “Wouldn’t you?”

The moment you and Caleb got into the car, he began to ask you about your parents and the kids. You told him the truth—that his children still missed him like crazy despite his increase in presence and your parents aren’t too elated about the whole “trying again” dynamic between you two.

“I figured,” he answers honestly, but the distress in his heart evokes a dull ache. He knows what kind of person he’d be if his daughter experienced what he did to her mother. He knows how disappointed he’d be in his son if he were to treat a woman the way he had you.

Your parent’s initial disapproval was fair and while he couldn’t change the past, he sure as hell could make a better future.

“I hope to get back into their good graces. I’m honored they’re even allowing me to be in your presence.”

“One thing at a time, yeah?” you assure him, hesitating for a brief second before you place your hand on his thigh. It makes him tense, but it’s not in a way that’s uncomfortable or even sexual. It’s the fact that you’re getting comfortable with him again, that you’re doing the things that made him so glad you were the one he put a ring on in the first place before he lost sight of what was really important—who was really important.

Being the over thinker you are though, you notice his body jolt. You’re ready to pull away with an apology on the tip of your tongue, but he speaks up.

“Don’t move,” he says with all the gentleness in the world, turning to you as he drives. “Please.”

You smile, keeping your hand relaxed. He’s mesmerized by the glimmer in your eyes, and the shine that enhances your irises tells him that the love you said you had was a gift that was truly there.

“And I hear you,” he continues. “One thing at a time.”

During the almost hour long car ride, you’ve tried your best to figure out where Caleb was taking you. You essentially began to sound like a rendition of a nagging child who kept asking their parents if they were there yet.

“Is it a movie?”

“No.”

“Is it…a new restaurant?”

“No.”

“Hm. Is ittt..a play?”

“Nope.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“You wish.”

When you saw what it really was, you nearly fell out the damn car if it were possible. As the tires rolled along the gravel road and the signs became clear, the excitement that erupted inside your little heart made Caleb’s feel like it could burst.

| Flea Market & Air Show - Limited Time! |

“Caleb you’re fucking joking!” you yelped happily, unable to sit still as he looked for a parking spot and laughed in the way that made your belly warm. You used to adore flea markets and the last one you ever went to was with him.

Don’t even get you started on air shows.

All of these interests that became high on your list of your most favorite things to do is all thanks to the man next to you.

“We’ve got about an hour to walk around before the show starts and then we can roam some more later,” he tells you as he pulls the key out of the ignition after parallel parking like it’s nothing.

There’s so much adoration across your features, so much of everything bubbling up and overflowing.

“I’m so happy,” you express freely.

“We haven’t even gotten out of the car yet.” Caleb is an absolute failure at doing anything nonchalant, so he oozing out just as much love as you are without needing to say it.

“Let’s change that.”

Caleb is by your side the entire time, buying any and everything that you may look at or pick up. You’ve made two trips back to the car because he’s pulled cash out of his pocket—that you didn’t even know he had—to buy everything that made you smile or fascinated you in the slightest.

Neither of you have been the fine dining type of people, so you pig out on the concession stands that made your mouth water the most. You’ve walked up and down the rows of all the people selling personal goods, hand crated items, and even small groups that played unique music.

The ambiance of all the people, the comfort, the excitement, the way your conversations with Caleb become a part of the mixing bowl of all the others happening around you. You haven’t felt this close to who you used to be in a long time.

If you could read Caleb’s mind, you’d know that he feels like all the emotions you’re sharing with him is enough to give the man a sugar crash. And all he wants is for you to keep aiming it at him so that he can share that beautiful energy with you until it consumes you both.

He poses for all the photos you take, helps you in all the little mini games that some people set up like you’re at a carnival, and you clap and cheer for him every time he succeeds.

“The air show will begin promptly in twenty minutes. Please make sure you have your tickets ready in line to be scanned for entry!”

You grin widely at Caleb who’s already standing up from the bench you two sat at to give yourselves a break. There’s comfortable conversation exchanged between you both as you mingle into the crowd, walking toward the huge open field to sit on the large bleachers on the side.

It’s a little darker now, so street like lamps illuminate the walkway and huge football fields style lights are lined up around the perimeter of where the planes will land.

“I’ve never been to an air show that wasn’t during the day before,” you squeeze Caleb’s hand.

“You’re gonna love it. Promise.”

As you approach the person at the stand, you expect Caleb to pull out two tickets. Instead, he simply shakes the man’s hand.

“Colonel,” the younger man salutes. “I’m glad you made it. This must be your wife?” He looks to you with a nod. “Nice to meet you ma’am.”

You don’t bother correcting him. Being Caleb’s wife again honestly has a nice ring to it. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“No need for you to be scanned. Again, we sincerely appreciate your generous donation! Enjoy the show, you two.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Caleb pats his shoulder as you walk past.

“Care to share?” you ask with your arm hooked in his.

Caleb chuckles. “Just had to pull a few strings. Tickets were sold out when I found this, but I made sure I got us in.”

“Mr. Romantic with connections, huh?” you jest. “And I didn’t know we were married already?”

“You better get used to it. All of it’s gonna be your everyday real soon.”

After you two find seats and the show begins, you’re absolutely mesmerized the entire time. And while Caleb should’ve been focusing on the planes gliding through the golden evening sky, all he could do was watch you. All he could do was appreciate the way the sun captured your face, how your eyes glided across the sky, how your beautiful brain digested all the information being shared.

His nerves were at an all time high, the need to impress you more than he has being one of the reasons why you’re his focal point. While it’s a sentiment left unspoken, one look at his face from any stranger could tell you how in love he is with you.

All the while, even with your eyes to the sky, your mind began to juggle the thoughts of Caleb and the impressive aircrafts that made the crowd ooh and ahh.

You never thought you’d be by his side like this ever again. The day you witnessed him walk out that front door was equivalent to feeling what death must be like. Imagine half of your being just gets taken away from you, but you’re forced to keep going as if its connection to you wasn’t important enough to stop your existence. The mere thought is torture, but actually experiencing it is infinitely worse.

But now he’s here, doing everything in his power to bring you back to him. In truth, he already had you that night when he first uttered “I miss you”.

All you continue to do is fall harder and deeper, becoming a woman with no intention to want nothing but him to cushion you when you land.

Every brush of his fingers against your skin makes you shiver, every comment he delivers makes you want to hear everything else he has to say. This is exactly how it felt the first time you fell in love with him, and it could be seen as a blessing or a curse that you’re being given the chance to do it again.

“You watching?” he leans down to whisper in your ear, halting your thoughts.

“Duhhh. Are you?”

“Of course I am.” There’s something deeper to that, you’re certain, but you don’t mention it.

The loud roaring jet engines spark a burst of adrenaline when they get close to make their landings. In awe, you gape at how the large crafts settle onto the flat surface of whirring dirt and think of how a few of them are exactly like the ones Caleb knows how to handle. The thought of him effortlessly controlling something of that magnitude makes you want to sit on his face.

He becomes your personal teacher as he tells you all the details about the jets he’s familiar with after everyone was given the okay to come down and get a closer look.

“The F-22 Raptor,” you gush, running your hand across the warm metal. You’ve always loved the idea of being able to go fast and if you ever had the chance to sit in one of these bad boys, you’d want it to be this one. The way it’s agile in the sky like a snake yet swift and efficient like a cheetah is always an exciting sight.

“You’re still in love with this model, huh?” The first time Caleb took you to an air show, the F-22 Raptor became an obsession for months. “They’re talking about retiring this poor old thing.”

“I heard.”

Caleb quirks a brow. “I didn’t know you were still looking into stuff like this.”

“Maybe you have a lot to learn, colonel.”

He nearly fucked you right there, if he was being completely honest with himself.

But with the discipline he’s enforced in every encounter he’s had with you, he simply licks his lips and huffs out a laugh. “So long as you’re willing to teach me.”

You were exhausted in the best way as Caleb pulled up in front of your parent’s house. It was nearly twelve in the morning when he looked over at your sleepy form in his passenger seat.

“Well,” he looks you up and down. “How’d I do?”

“You kidding me?” you snort. “It was awesome, Caleb. Everything was so, so awesome.”

“I want to do more of this with you.” He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Maybe bring the kids along one of these times and we make it a family thing, you know?”

“I’d love that.”

Both of you go to speak at the same time, an awkward titter passed to see who would try to go first. Caleb, being the lovesick man he is, encourages you to be the one to talk.

“I was just going to ask if…you’d like to come in?” You find it hard to look at him, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought of your request. “You can sleep on the couch so you don’t have to drive home so late.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to upset your parents.”

“You won’t,” you say swiftly. “I promise.”

While you can’t really promise that, you do know that you’ll defend him should it be a problem in the morning. Besides you actually not wanting him to drive another 30 minutes home this late, you’re not quite ready for him to leave you right now.

You’re relieved when he answers you by turning the car off.

You stay silent as you make your way inside, taking care to not wake anyone. The urge to see your babies before you get settled in is strong, so Caleb quietly follows you to get a peak at their small bodies beneath the covers, fast asleep in the two beds their grandparents got specifically for them.

“I have a pair of your sweatpants and a shirt if you want something more comfortable to sleep in,” you whisper on your way back to the living room.

“You do? I’ve never left any clothes here.”

“I know. But I still have some of your things and I packed some since I knew I’d be spending the night.”

You catch that smirk on his face when you turn around after cutting a lamp on. “You still wear my clothes, baby?”

You press your lips together. “Clothes or no clothes?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you roll your eyes, turning around and walking to the guest room you’re staying in to get them. It’s all to stop him from seeing the stupid grin on your face.

But of course, he’s right behind you. “You promise? Can’t be too soft…or too rough.”

You try not to laugh, but it’s one of those moments where for some reason, things that aren’t that funny is making you want to do nothing but cackle.

“I’ll wash upstairs so you can use the bathroom connected to the guest room.” He catches the clothes, noticing the sweatpants have the college he went to stitched into the fabric when you toss it to him.

In the middle of your shower, it crossed your mind to touch yourself when you felt your nipples tighten the more you thought about the day you had and the way you only wished it would end. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be right now, your gut was telling you soon.

There was a throbbing sensation between your legs, but for your sanity, you had to ignore it. But oh, was it difficult.

The feeling of his hands on you brought back all the memories of how he used to make love to you, how he used to talk to you so sweetly while he defiled your body in ways only you’d allow him to do. The way he took care of you, worshipped you, protected, guided, and educated you—it was enough for you to press your thighs together.

You didn’t know if you could handle coming on your fingers and facing him in the next few minutes without that need still being there. Perhaps if you didn’t acknowledge it at all, especially with the help of your tiredness, it was bound to fade.

You were partially right.

That almost went out the window when your towel glided against your clit as you were drying your body. You desperately craved putting a pillow between your legs and burying your face into the sheets as you make yourself come in record time.

The thought was so tempting—the feeling of the rough material grazing back and forth between your pussy lips while you thought about Caleb and his cock inside of you. But you wanted to be loud, and right now you couldn’t be. It would have to happen another time.

Soon after calming yourself, you made your way back to the living room to find that you were finished before Caleb. Seeing the empty room with the barren couch except for the one blanket and pillow you left for him, you decided that you’ll sleep with him on the couch instead of leaving him out here alone.

“Sleepover?” he teased as he fixed his clothes over his body when he stepped out of the room. The peek of his abs nearly unraveled you.

“Don’t ruin it.” You patted the spot next to you.

He smelled like your honey body wash that you left in there when he sat down.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“We do, don’t we?”

You don’t know if you’ve stopped smiling once today. Handing him the remote, you don’t pull your gaze from his. “Find us a movie?”

“Ah, my specialty.”

He settled on one you’ve seen together dozens of times, but you’d never complain because it’s one of your favorites. You began to get comfortable as he threw the blanket over your laps, inching closer and closer until your head rested on him.

“Caleb?” you whisper, the thoughts in your mind making your mouth move to speak before you can try to tuck them away.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for today.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, placing your chin on top to stare at him. The glow of the TV is all you have to see his features. “And thank you in advance for everything else to come.”

“Don’t thank me yet, pretty.” He glances at you. “We’ve got a lot more to get to, and you’ll have the rest of our lives together for that.”

“I like the confidence.”

You think he’s about to kiss you with the way his eyes can’t decide if they want to keep staring at your own or your lips. To your disappointment, he ends up just smiling before returning his attention back to the screen. Suddenly, all that wanting to take it slow mumbo-jumbo is cock blocking you.

Despite what you want, this is good—at least in this scenario. You can’t fuck him on the couch of your parent’s house.

You don’t know when you ended up passing out, but sleep has never come to you so easily. Even if he said not to thank him yet, all the credit would be given to him.

In the transition of you succumbing to your exhaustion, you knew that soon enough, words wouldn’t be able to encapsulate your feelings anymore. Today has shown that you’re more than ready to give him back every single part of you.

You’re just hoping that when the time comes, you don’t end up regretting anything else anymore.

A/N: If you thought this was the happy ending, IT’S NOT. Not yet 😏. AND NO SMUT JUST YET, I’M TORTURING YOU ALL, AREN’T I LOLLL!!! NOT EVEN A KISS THIS TIME!! Honestly though, let me know what you think! I really tried to make this part like a glimpse into what they were before it all went to shit, you know? Caleb doing something like this for you is just the tip of the iceberg.

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @inutrasha94 @honeycrispangels

[korebringerofded]

Sugar for Breakfast- Bob Reynolds X F!Reader

Summary- After pining for months, your first kiss with Bob is interrupted and he desperately wants a do-over. Warnings/Tags- Tooth-rotting fluff, Bob in love, slight mention of childhood trauma (bobs dad when I find you), Bob not feeling good enough, slight angst ig A/N- Anyways I watched Thunderbolts and awoke from a writing slump to create this. I have many more planned for Bob so I will add a section soon. Dividers used were made by- @sweetmelodygraphics Words-3848 

Bob loves like someone afraid of taking up too much space.Terrified of being too much, or not enough.

He loves quietly, distantly, painfully gentle in everything he says and does. Never forgetting to grab you a water when he gets himself one. Always keeping one or two of your favorite snacks tucked in his hoodie for long trips, he knew you always got irritable when you hadn’t eaten in a while, not that Bob would complain. Even tense and grumpy, you were still his guiding light, his unknowing north star.

Bob didn’t remember another stretch of time when his thoughts were clear enough to really feel or process anything that happened to him in the moment. Everything he did was for survival, that is, until the team came along, a real support system for once

And more than that, he had you.

Years of chasing down something- anything to suture that gaping hole in his chest, high out of his mind, slipping into that safe, silent, oblivion. All that time he had spent numb to the world had left him completely unprepared for the intensity of what you planted within him, leaving him vulnerable to the feelings that had bloomed in his chest and threatened to tear him open with their curling roots.

Your very proximity was enough to fracture him to stardust, burn his very cells like an imploding star. Every glance and smile was worshiped and savored in his mind, each brush of contact enough to knock oxygen from his lungs

The worst part? You didn’t seem to notice how completely and irreversibly gone for you he was.

It was slowly becoming routine, these quiet mornings. Most of the time, the rest of the team was scattered, each tending to their own tasks or missions. Bucky and Yelena were early risers, always awake and working before anyone else was out of bed. Ava and John would wake not long after, usually resulting in a silent battle of wills over steaming cups of coffee. Alexi sleeps until noon more often than not.

That leaves you and Bob to have breakfast together most days.

You would normally take turns cooking for the other, though Bob preferred it when you took over, especially after he burned a batch of biscuits to coal, which had in turn set off the smoke detectors. 

He still hadn’t lived that particular culinary disaster down, he couldn’t even use the microwave without everyone snickering.

Not that Bob complained, it was just another excuse to he savored the meals you prepared, for just the two of you.He relished in the fact that this stretch of time with you was his alone, a small cocoon of early golden light and cups of coffee.

Even on lazy days like today, when sleep still clung so thoroughly to you both that neither had the energy to do anything more than pour cereal into mix-matched bowls. Bob was captivated

Tucked away in that moment together, watching you eat sugary cereal for breakfast became worship, Bob your devoted disciple, the dark cherry table you sat at the altar, the now tepid coffee a holy sacrament. As he always was around you, Bob had been reduced to a silent sentinel from a sight that should've been normal, casual. 

But nothing about the way you made him feel had ever felt casual. 

Bob’s breakfast had gone long forgotten, a soggy mess left in the bowl as he tried to memorize this moment. The messy state of your hair, the faded t-shirt hanging loosely from one shoulder. The pale glow of the sun poured into the room, quiet and soft as it curled around them both. He couldn’t help it, his eyes continued to trace over the shape of your face, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your gaze as the light danced over flesh that Bob wanted so desperately to touch. 

Cute. Dangerous, fucking unraveling.

He suddenly needed to do something with his hands- anything to keep himself from doing something really mortifying, like actually touching you. His fingers curled tight over his spoon- which he held like a tether to reality as he tried to will himself to stop acting like a love-sickened fool. 

You, completely unaware of his internal torment, had your legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone with a slight furrow to your brow as a spoon absently hung from your lips.Unconsciously, your tongue darted out to clean the sweetened milk from its metallic surface.

It’s like you were trying to test how quickly you could turn the poor guy’s brain to useless mush. A searing heat spread over his already feverish skin as his fingers tightened into tight fists. Anything to keep those damned, traitorous thoughts pushed deep down so they didn’t surface on his lips.

Unbidden, like a ghost haunting his mind and crawling out from his gaping chest came the image of actually tasting the sweetness that currently coated your lips, the artificial sweetness mingled with the taste of that vanilla lip balm you swore by.

The moment that thought seared into his mind, unrelenting in its detail, its heady vividity nearly overwhelming and Bob let out a choked sound somewhere between a gasp and a cough which made your eyes flicker up, confusion evident on your face. 

The exact moment your eyes met with his ocean blue ones- and it was like his whole body jolted, pure lighting striking through his veins.

There was a distinct snap that echoed in the room, a faint metallic dink following immediately as the top of the spoon clattered on the surface of the table. You could just stare at the thing, blinking like you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not. 

Before you could stop it, soft laughter bubbled up in your chest and slipped from your parted lips.

“Jeez-what did that poor defenseless spoon ever do to you?” 

“I didn't-” Bob started, his eyes wide as he just stared at the two pieces laying before him. “I-I mean. I did but...” He rubbed the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than to sink into his own mortification and never return.

You noticed panic spreading over his expression like a wildfire- rapidly consuming in its wake as he looked anywhere but at you. 

Unbidden, memories of his childhood resurfaced. Habits, the terror of making a mistake and the inevitable punishments. All of that fear trapped inside such a little body, crushing, expanding, too heavy to carry. It spread like icy water flooding his lungs to the point of bursting.

He couldn’t stand the idea of it, you looking at him with that same disappointment he had seen mirrored in people all his life. On his mothers face, in his fathers actions, in all the people that left him behind. He stood then-suddenly needing to be literally anywhere else. 

That’s what had become comfortable, familiar. That safe darkness, where the only danger was himself.

And then, before it could consume him, drag him under entirely, you were there, standing in front of him and closer now. You gently squeezed his arm with an anchoring, steadying touch. A soft smile on your face, the one that always made his heart seize up, gentle, patient, fucking radiant.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.I am fairly certain Bucky has a similar habit.” 

Bob snorted, almost jolted with the simplicity of it. It wasn’t a big deal,he could mess up, break things and it was...fine, he was fine, not a burden or a mistake, just human…with the strength to snap a spoon in half.

“Yeah?” He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he held your gaze, a smile tugging over his features. 

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s gone through five different phones.” You nodded.

That got a real laugh out of him, lips curling as the rare and warm sound filled the space around you both. It was infectious and then you were both laughing, eyes crinkling and sides aching as the sound filled the room. Bob found himself laughing with you often, more than he had in years.

He almost died then and there when you didn’t pull away from him. You found yourself wanting to just bask in the light of his smile. It always warmed you, that smile, the soft expression he had when he looked at you. Those deep blue eyes always left your mind in complete shambles, fingers itching to trace over the lines of his face, the shape of his jaw. To maybe see if he really had the sun living beneath his flesh.

You curled your hand over his wrist, letting your fingers brush up his arm. He tensed as lightning traveled along the path you drew, each movement so certain, mapping each space like you’d done it countless times, an artist pressing pen to paper, second nature. 

Bob was sure he’d forgotten how to breathe in oxygen as he watched your fingers trace over his knuckles. As if on instinct, he turned his hand over, marveling at the simple touch- how much it affected him. Both embarrassed by how it affected him and equally desperate to never forget how it felt. His chest tightened and ached as you followed the lines across his palm, lingering for a moment before your fingers cured over his own. 

“I like hearing you laugh.” You said softly, eyes flickering from intertwined hands to meet blue eyes that never once strayed from you. It was normal for him, almost an instinct to search for you in every room, at every party,even in his dreams. 

“It’s easy with you.” 

He immediately cringed at his own words which slipped out before he could stop them. For a moment, those old doubts crept up, heavy, suffocating-then it was fading away at the  sight of a toothy smile on your face, head tilted in slight amusement as a blush spread from the apples of your cheeks.

That damned smile, the one that made him wish he was an artist purely so he could draw you over and over again, capture each sacred detail, memorized and immortalized. Just for him.

“Are you flirting with me, Reynolds?” You hummed, head tilted and amusement sparkling in your eyes.

He felt like all the air had been knocked from him, hand tightening over yours, fingers still intertwined and you were so close, temptingly so. You were touching him, teasing him, fucking flirting with him. Was this a dream? If it was a dream, he was fine never waking again.

“Trying to.” His voice was rough, a slight furrow to his brows as his eyes traced over the shape of your face.”Is that okay?” He added, voice a little softer, hesitation lacing through each word.

“Mhm.” You nodded “More than okay.” 

He had leaned forward without even realizing it, his body betraying him in favor of your tempting warmth, that smile that made him feel like he mattered. That he was the sun and the stars and the whole universe all wrapped up in one person. 

He could feel it resurfacing then, that starved part of himself that just wanted to hold and be held by someone in return- was clawing its way out. 

He wanted to hold you, wanted to know exactly how your body would feel against his and how your lips tasted. His hand trembled, brushing his knuckles over your cheek with a ghost of a touch, like he was terrified he would shatter you.

Bob made the fatal mistake of letting his eyes drift down to your lips, lingering there before darting back to your eyes. It felt like everything had stopped, suspended in that moment, both still in pajamas, standing so close in a cluttered kitchen and breakfast long-long forgotten. 

“I have- never wanted anything as much as I want to kiss you right now.” 

His words were so soft, meant only for you. His warm hand slipped away from yours so he could trail up your arm, heat dancing along his path across your shoulder before cradling your cheek, every touch laced with worship and complete devotion. All the words he couldn’t say, emotions too heavy and deep to explain, each one embedded in his delicate touch.

In answer, you leaned in, just enough for the very ends of your noses to brush, your minty-sugary breath curling against his cheek as your hands slid up his chest, pressed flat to him. God- you couldn’t help but want to know how his hands felt all over your body, to feel that heat he always radiated directly from his skin, to soak him in like the sun on a summer day-

“Ahem.” 

You and Bob separated immediately, as if burned at the contact to see Alexi leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and an amused expression on his face. He was wearing those annoying ‘New Avengerz’ slippers he insisted were ‘quality’.

Bob was silent, eyes wide and taking a few steps away from you with his palms raised slightly. It was kinda cute, that deer caught in headlights look he had right then.

You had to bite your lip to contain your amusement, a grin spreading as you watched color burn over Bob’s face. It wasn’t all at once, starting at his neck, radiating from the neckline of that navy sweater he always wore. He always looked so warm, like the sun lived beneath his flesh and its heat settled in his chest like a cat curled up for a nap. But now- he looked with a faint pink spreading over the apples of his cheeks, over the end of his nose.

“How long have you been watching us?” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. The whole team was sure to hear about this later.You got a headache just thinking about the inevitable teasing.

Alexi laughed, shrugging as he crossed the room to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I have never wanted any-” He started to recite Bob’s words in a dramatic tone, a cup held out like he was reciting shakespeare. He was mercifully cut off by a choked gasp from Bob.

“Okay okay!” Bob threw his hands up as he started to crumble under the weight of his humiliation.

“Thanks- got it.” He mumbled, grabbing his coffee from the table, and heading for the door. He couldn’t find the strength to look at either you or Alexi as he planned to take refuge in his room, overhearing Alexi refer to them as ‘lovebirds’ and ‘young love’ as he walked down the hallway.

It was later that day, the clock beside his bed glowing in the dark room. Almost midnight- and Bob was still obsessing over that moment, growing more and more distraught. The interruption, the fact he had wanted it so badly and yet still hesitated. The idea that you had maybe actually wanted to kiss him, that you hadn’t pulled away or laughed at his pathetic attempts to flirt. It was all too much to process. 

He was, trying, failing to sleep, desperate to stop the memories of how good you had felt in his hands, how right it had felt. His fingers tightened in his blankets, willing those damned thoughts into silence and yet- over and over again he found himself drifting back to you, the scent of your shampoo, the curl of your lips when you smiled.

“Fuck.” 

He sat up, shaking his head like it would dispel the image as well as the lingering thoughts that haunted the already crowded halls of his mind. 

Did I lose my chance? Would she ever let me try again? Do I even deserve to try again? 

He wanted to try again.

Bob decided he couldn’t take it, the uncertainty, the thought that he might’ve ruined things between the two of you. He didn’t allow himself to think too hard on it before he ventured out into the halls of the tower which were dimly lit by glowing sconces along the wall.

All the confidence he had on the walk to your room seemed to drain from him and for a moment he just stood there, hand hovering over the door in a trembling fist. This was a horrible idea, coming to your room so late. You were probably asleep, he shouldn’t disturb you. 

He let his shoulder drop a little, his hand dropping to his side as he started to turn- deciding to talk to you tomorrow when he was less of a wreck.

“Bob?” 

The universe definitely had it out for him today, he was certain of it. His chest felt tight and hands clenched tight into fists as he turned to face you. 

You had a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of fruit in the other. You wore a t-shirt that practically swallowed up your legs, hanging at your knees, hair a little messy like you were tossing in bed. Your brows knitted slightly, the tension in his shoulders was obvious, the click of his jaw at your proximity. 

“Oh- I was just...” Bob trailed off, clearing his throat ,trying and failing to appear casual. “Wandering, I guess. What about you, midnight snack?” He waved to the fruit and water, trying to change the subject. 

You nodded, a slight smile spreading on your face as you walked past him to push open your door, setting the bowl and cup down on your desk. 

“You weren’t at dinner.” You added, turning back to Bob who stood at the edge of your door like an old fashioned vampire- seeking permission to enter your space. 

He sighed, picking at the ends of his sweater as he looked at his hands, trying to steady himself with its familiarity. It was true, he had kept to himself the rest of the day. 

“Yeah. Didn’t really wanna hear Alexi’s rendition of-” He waved vaguely between the two of you. “For a crowd.” 

“It wasn’t so bad.” You laughed, chewing on your lip. Alexi had indeed told everyone at dinner in a dramatic retelling that made Walker gag. 

“You can come in.” 

Bob swallowed audibly, eyes flickering to your face like he was searching for confirmation that he had actually heard that right. He took a few steps in, almost shuffling his feet before closing the door behind him. 

It was almost unfair how good he looked like this, wide and glossy eyes as he watched your every move with his hands twitching at his sides. He had on a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips, a sliver of skin under the white t-shirt he wore. You didn’t hide the way your eyes trailed up from his hands, his forearms and up to his biceps, broad shoulders. You wanted to memorize every marble-carved inch of him, every vein along his flesh, shape everything with your hands until his very bones were synced to your own 

The strongest man alive, and he was terrified to touch you, you could see it on his face as you stood right before him. 

“You came to my room, right?” Your hand gently traced up his wrist, following the same path your eyes had begun only moments ago, gentle mapmaking, memorizing this moment. 

“Yes.” His voice was so soft, so rough. 

“It’s late.” Your hand traced up his chest, feeling his chest tighten beneath your palm, heart beating like a heavy drum, falling in time with your own the closer you got. 

“I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything but think about how badly-.” He paused, eyes searching your expression, hoping, wanting, pleading for you to understand. “If we hadn’t been interrupted this morning-.” 

He was horrible at this, and you touching him only made it impossible to find the words

“Being around you-.” He pressed his hand over yours, holding your hand flat to his chest so you could feel his warmth, like he needed to draw strength from your presence. “It makes me feel alive. I don’t want to ruin what we have- I don’t want to fuck this up.” He leaned his forehead against yours, taking in a shaky breath, the scent of your shampoo filling his senses, something light and floral maybe. 

You moved before he did, leaning forward to loop your arms around his neck and leaning in close, your lips trailing over his cheek before pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek, breath curling over his ear. Bob took in a sharp breath, a low curse leaving his lips.

“Do you still want to kiss me?” You mumbled, pulling back enough so your eyes locked, your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy.

“Yes- God- Yes.” 

His hands cupped your face with an achingly soft caress, thumb brushing over your cheek and nearly melting at how soft you felt, he wouldn’t waste another moment, refusing to allow even a flicker of hesitation before his lips crashed against yours. 

You tasted like sanctuary and worship and redemption. You tasted of a future full of a light so blinding it would chase away the darkness, the madness of his mind and past. How did he even survive without this?

It was heated, slow, unhurried- like he planned to learn the shape of your mouth and set it to memory. He let one hand slip from your cheek to curl over your hip to pull you closer, to feel the softness and warmth of your curves against his still unfamiliar marble planes of muscle.You let out a soft gasp, melting into his arms as if you belonged there as Bob slowly walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed.

He pulled back, pupils blown and taking up all the crystalline blue you loved so much, lips glossy and kiss bruised. His hands tightened as they rested on your waist, thumb tracing shapes along the sliver of flesh there as he rested his forehead against yours, taking in a shaky breath.

“You have to know- how crazy I am about you.” His voice was raw, each word costing him greatly, his brows furrowed as if he awaited your strike of rejection.

“I know.” You smiled, tracing a thumb over his bottom lip which made him shudder. “I like you too, Bob. Enough to invite you into my room late at night.” A smile tugged at your lips. “Enough that I was disappointed with our interruption this morning, enough that I thought about kissing you all day.”

“I can make up for lost time.” Bob said, the words leaving his lips like a prayer, a wish, that with enough time all the hesitation and past blunders would disappear. 

He was already leaning forward to press soft kisses along your brow, your cheek, the bridge of your nose as you laughed. And Bob took in every moment of it, your laugh, the blush that bloomed over your cheeks.

You were salvation and damnation all wrapped up in one person, and Bob was tired of pretending otherwise.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated. All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here.

[streetlamp-amber]

first kicks

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol

Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.

You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Where’s Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didn’t mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didn’t want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husband’s job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didn’t mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.

The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didn’t really care about was taking place but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.

”So Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?” Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.

”We’ve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,” Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. “I want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.”

”Smart, isn’t he?” You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dick’s dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.

“Never thought otherwise,” your husband said, mirroring your grin. “Jay, have you found all the Waldos yet?” He leaned forward to ask Jason.

“I’m almost done,” the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.

“It’s best not to bother him when he’s searching for Waldo,” you informed your husband in a low volume.

Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. “So, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.

“Dad, I don’t need to write it down on some paper,” Dick sighed, a little annoyed. “You can do that on the internet now.”

“You can?” Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.

You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasn’t always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.

The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.

“What?” Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I think the baby just kicked,”you said, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“The baby just kicked?” He repeated in disbelief.

You shook your head ‘yes’ just as you felt more movement. “The baby kicked again.”

Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husband’s lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.

“I don’t know if the baby’s gonna kick again,” you told them.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Jason whined.

“We just need to be patient,” Bruce said. “I’m sure the baby will do it again.”

And sure enough he was right. 

“Oh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!” Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.

“I wanna feel it too!” Jason cried.

“Here Jay, put your hand there,” you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dick’s hand.

“Maybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,” Dick suggested.

“That’s true, babies can hear us from inside the mother’s belly,” Bruce agreed with him.

“They can?” Jason looked at you quizzically.

You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah they can, it’s not completely soundproof in there,” you answered him.

“That’s why Dad is always talking to your belly?” Dick asked.

You fully laughed at this. “Yes, that’s why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.”

“We can?” Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. “Hi baby, I’m Dick. Your big brother,” he said.

Jason also leaned forward. “And I’m Jason, I’m also gonna be your big brother.”

“Yeah but I’m the big big brother, I’m the oldest,” Dick argued.

“But I’m gonna be a big brother too!”

“Boys,” Bruce intervened. “No arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while it’s in the womb.”

A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.

“That’s our baby,” he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.

“That's our baby,” you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.

“I love you,” Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.

“Ew! Gross!” Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons weren’t the biggest fans of you and Bruce’s displays of affection for each other.

You giggled at the boys’ antics but still took a second to say “I love you” back to your husband.

“Someone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,” you suggested to the kids.

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.

Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. “Alfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!” Dick called through the manor for your butler.

“He knows he doesn’t need to scream, right?” Bruce asked you. “Alfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just very excited about the baby kicking,” you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.

You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and his eyes round with wonder in them.

“This is so cool,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Looks like you’re gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,” Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didn’t stop.

You chuckled as you remembered all the times you’d stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruce’s punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfred’s reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.

“I can’t wait to play fight with you,” Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.

“No,” you immediately said.

“Best you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,” Bruce told your son.

Jason pouted. “But he's always pulling some acrobatic shit–”

“Language!” You scolded him.

“But Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!” Jason cried out defensively. “That’s not fair,” he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,” you warned. “Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Jason mumbled.

“Capiche?” You repeated, now glaring at your husband.

“Hey, I’ve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,” Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Capiche,” Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Master Dick, slow down a little. There’s no need for running,” you heard Alfred’s voice approaching down the hall.

“But Alfred, the baby is kicking!” Dick reiterated.

Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfred’s who tried to keep up behind him.

“I heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,” Alfred argued.

“Yeah but it might stop kicking,” Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.

“Don’t worry chum, the baby’s still kicking,” Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.

“Please Alfred, feel the baby,” you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. “We want you to be part of this moment too.”

Alfred’s hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. “This is sensational.”

“Isn’t it?” You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your baby’s first kicks with.

Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jason’s dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.

Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

NFL requests are open ♡

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[wooskirbyplushie]

Make It To The Morning ~ Choi Seungcheol

✰ Choi Seungcheol x Reader

✰ Description: You meet up with an old friend on a night out with your girls, and he seems intent on making sure you end your night with a bang..

✰ Word Count: 3.4k

✰ Warnings: drinking, cussing, pet names, female!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it when you tap it !), driving under the influence (yea don't do this)

✰ Italics are used for inner thoughts, bold italic is to emphasize words

✰ a/n: Hey guyssss, back again. Currently still working on the next chapter of Our Little Secret, so in the mean time here's a little short I wrote a while back! Eventually I'll have an actually masterlist but for now my other fics/shorts are listed right under here if you wanna go check those out. As always, dividers used are by @cafekitsune so go check them out!

Our Little Secret ~ K.HJ | Not So Sober Nights ~ Kang Yeosang

It was a saturday night, and instead of your usual routine of laying around your room watching dramas and eating junk food, your friends dragged you to a club. You didn’t hate clubbing, it’s just the idea of too many people pressed up against each other in one place wasn’t very appealing to you.

But tonight you had a slight change of heart. You put on a skin tight dress that showed off all the right places, and threw on a pair of heels to match. A bit of light makeup and a few accessories tied the look together, and soon your friends were at your front door to pick you up for the night ahead. 

When you all arrived, the club was packed with the music so loud that you could feel the bass in your chest. There was a slight aroma of weed and flavored hooka coming from the vip sections, and flashing lights that should’ve come with an epilepsy warning. But of course it didn’t take long for your friends to grab you and drag you to the bar to get a drink before you could even think about turning around and leaving. 

One round of shots turned into three, and one drink turned into two and a half, as you were still working on the other half while you were on the dance floor. The liquor got you loosened up, but it didn’t get you any further than tipsy considering you could down 7 drinks and still walk in a straight line. But the drinks did have you bumping and grinding against your friends on the dance floor, drink still in hand. 

After a few minutes of dancing with your eyes closed, taking in every beat and melody, you felt a figure on your backside and eventually felt a hand rest on your waist. They were too tall to be one of your girl friends so who could-

“Now who managed to drag you out of the house on a saturday night and who let you out looking this good hm?”

Hearing the voice in your ear made you calm down a bit as you threw your head back and rested it against the person’s chest, smiled, and locked eyes with them. 

“Hi Cheollll” you sang out just loud enough for him to hear over the music. You and Seungcheol had a very… complicated relationship to say the least. You had hooked up and went on a few dates here and there but never really talked about what it was, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. He gave you whatever you were looking for in the moment and that’s all you really wanted. 

You both danced against each other for a while; rather, you danced against him while both of his hands followed the rhythm of you waist and he left the occasional kiss on your neck. You could feel he was turned on as he pressed against you.

Eventually, he turned you around to face him and took your now empty drink out of your hand. “Can we get another drink cheolie?” You asked with big brown eyes that no one could say no to. Well except Seungcheol apparently because he didn’t budge. 

“No ma’am, I think you’ve had enough tonight” Cheol started off before smirking and leaning towards your ear. “Plus I want you to be sober enough to remember what we do later okay?”

Now whether you were blushing because of the liquor or the image of what could possibly happen later, you weren’t sure. but you were sure that the smell of whiskey on Cheol’s breath mixed with the scent of his cologne was a dangerous combination for you. Your legs were getting weak and he needed to carry you to his bed immediately. 

“You wanna tell your friends I’m taking you home or should I baby?” 

You could text them later.

****

Before you knew it, Cheol was grabbing your wrist and leading you to the back door of the club. He always parked his car out back with the employees since he was cool with the owners, and did not want to take the chance of his car getting stolen or broken into. 

On your way out, you passed by the bar and a vip section where you happened to see your friends flirting with some guys, too distracted to see you sneaking out- or blatantly leaving - with the guy they hated so much. 

Once you reached the door, a brisk breeze hit your face, reminding you that it really wasn’t spring time yet. But because you chose to be cute and not smart, your jacket was still in your friend’s car, leaving you to shiver at the temperature. Cheol took notice of this and took his jacket off of his shoulders and placed it on your own. Was it light? Yes, but it was better than nothing. 

“Oh uh. Thanks.” You mumbled quietly, hoping you didn’t get caught eyeing the way his t-shirt complimented his muscles. Did he not understand you were insane??

“Of course princess.” Cheol replied, putting emphasis on his last word. You weren’t big on pet names, but something about the way he called you princess made you blush every time. 

Suddenly yall came to a stop in front of a black car, a mercedes to be exact. Weird, I thought he had a white ca- 

“Like the new wheels? Got her last week” Cheol said smugly when he noticed you looking at the unfamiliar car. You simply nodded and said it matched his style: expensive and arrogant. 

He chuckled and pulled you closer to him by your waist, that cologne intoxicating the way it filled your nostrils. The last thing you were expecting was for this man to pick you up and sit you on the trunk of the car. 

“Seungcheol! Someone could see us let’s just go to your place.” You protested although you weren’t completely against the idea of fucking him in or on the car. What? You had questionable morals. 

“We will in due time baby,” Cheol started before leaving a kiss on your temple. “Think of this as an appetizer before the main course, okay?” You couldn’t get out another protest before his lips were on yours. Slightly chapped per usual, but god they felt like heaven. He hummed into the kiss while your tongues clashed with each other, the taste of peach liquor on your breath turning him on even more. His hands starting to travel up the sides of your thighs as you kept going.

He had your body so hot that you almost forgot about it being 40 degrees outside until the wind started blowing again. You shivered slightly, breaking from the kiss and lowering your head in embarrassment. “Can we go to your place now Cheolie..?” He complied and helped you off the car after another quick kiss, followed by him opening the passenger door for you. 

****

Once you got to Cheol’s house, he parked and walked to your side of the car where he scolded you for opening your door yourself. You insisted it wasn’t a big deal, to which he picked you up bridal style and carried you into his house. Feeling your cheeks get hot again, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. 

You finally made it to the bedroom after what seemed like an eternity, Cheol sitting you down on his King sized bed before turning to close and lock his door. He walked back over, looking you up and down before getting on his knees in front of you. 

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are? Or how good you look wearing my clothes?” He inquired while helping you get your heels off. You had completely forgot about the jacket, but at this point, you just wanted him to stop being a tease and take it off of you. “Maybe once or five times…” you replied back, eyes watching his every move. 

“Only five? I gotta do better then huh gorgeous?” He said before leaving kisses up your legs, starting at your ankles. You threw your head back slightly and Cheol watched your reactions through his eyelashes. “Seungcheol can you stop being a tease for christ sake” you whined. 

He climbed on top of you, sliding his jacket off your shoulders. 

“Want me to fuck you that bad?”

Well. Yes! “Duh.”

“Then take your dress off”

“Only if you take your pants off”

Cheol smirked and stood back up, undoing his belt. “Yes ma’am”

One thing led to another, and your clothes were in a pile on the floor, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear. You couldn’t help but stare at Seungcheol’s body, I mean you had seen it multiple times but it always surprised you how defined and prominent his muscles were. And no matter how many times you ended up in this scenario with him, you always got shy and tried to cover up. 

He climbed onto the bed next to you, and pulled you into his lap with a swift action. He had you in a position where you were straddling him, your body getting accustomed a bit too quickly. “Why are you acting like I haven’t seen your body a million times over princess?” Cheol placed a kiss on your shoulder, his hand caressing the small of your back. “That’s exactly why… You probably know my body better than I do at this point.” You replied in a voice that was hardly above a whisper. 

His fingers toyed with the strap of your bra before placing them under your chin, lifting your head just enough for you to make eye contact with him. God his eyes were dangerous. “How about we prove that theory then, huh princess?” Cheol said before crashing his lips into yours. Just like before, you could still taste the liquor on his breath, his tongue going against your bottom lip to ask for just a bit more from you. You obliged and parted your lips just enough for Cheol to slip his tongue in. 

You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, as one was tugging at the bottom part of his hair, the other holding on to his shoulder to keep your balance while you would grind against him, arousal growing with every movement. Coming up for air, Cheol broke away from the kiss to leave kisses and small bite marks on your chest. 

“Cheol you.. you know how I am about hickeys…” you managed out, head in the clouds, dizzy with pleasure. But he wasn’t letting up. “I know baby. That’s why they’re in places only we’ll know about.” He replied while undoing the last hook of your bra, sliding the garment off your body. You hadn’t even realized he was taking it off until you felt the material loosen around you. 

Not even a second after your bra was taken off, Cheol wrapped his mouth around one of your breasts, one of his hands massaging the other. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned his name, the grip you had on his hair getting a bit tighter. You both continued to move your hips against each other, turning you on even further and wishing that the fabric separating the two of you would disappear. 

Cheol switched from one breast to the other, giving both equal amounts of attention. Eventually he worked his way back up towards your collarbone and neck, leaving kisses all over and nibbling on your ear. “C-cheolie..” you whined in response to his actions. He was driving you crazy and you wanted more than what he was offering. “I know princess, I know..” He trailed off as his hands went between the two of you, fingers meeting your most sensitive spot, rubbing aggravating slow circles on your clit through the fabric of your panties. 

Just as you were about to beg for more, cheol moved your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside of you, stretching you out for what was to come. He had you falling apart, a whimpering mess on top of him as he fingered you and kissed more over your chest and neck areas. You were already starting to feel your first orgasm of the night approaching, that familiar knot building up in your stomach. “I- I can’t anymore cheol I’m so- so close” You breathed out, reaching down to rub your clit to help you get there faster. “If you’re close then cum for me baby” Cheol said in your ear, speeding up his hand movements. 

His voice was all it took to send you over the edge. You tightened around his fingers before your orgasm washed over you, moaning cheol’s name way louder than you had intended and collapsing onto his chest when it was all said and done. “You did so good for me baby” He said while kissing you on your head. He rubbed your back to help you come back to reality, asking if you wanted to stop or keep going once you were responsive. 

“We can keep going. You haven’t even gotten anything yet-” You started before Cheol cut you off with another kiss. “You know I only care about you baby, I can take care of myself later.” You shrugged in return, arms wrapped around Cheol’s neck. Leaning into his ear, you spoke in a low voice, “But I wanna make you feel good too.” Followed by you kissing on his neck. 

Cheol let out a guttural moan, his head falling against the headboard behind him. His hands stayed on your hips for a short period of time, eventually sliding down and gripping your ass before abruptly straightening up to change your positions. Before you could blink properly, Cheol had you on your stomach, causing you to yelp out of shock. Lifting your ass up so you were on all fours. 

You could feel him adjusting behind you, pulling his boxers just below his dick, and pulling your panties to the side; too lazy to take them off. “Condom?” He asked with a dumbass confused look on his face. “When have we ever used one seungcheol.” You replied, annoyance heavy in your tone. He shrugged and pointed out he was just making sure before teasingly placing his tip right at your entrance. And he did it over and over again until you finally snapped. 

“Christ Seungcheol can you just-” You started but were cut off by him finally sliding in. Both of you let out synchronized moans, your grip on the sheets tightening, while cheol gripped your hair to make you look up at the mirror that was conveniently placed in front of the bed. “Look at you taking me so well princess” His pace picking up with every other word. 

Cheol wasn’t exactly big, but he knew exactly what to do to make you lose your mind. Between the angles, hair tugging, and shit talking (and some praising here and there), he had you damn near crying and screaming out broken mantras of cuss words and his name, the occasional whiny “please” getting thrown in there as well. Eventually you felt yourself getting close to the edge, the pleading getting even worse than before.

“God Cheolie please i’m so close” You whined, not sure how much longer you could last. Snaking his hand underneath you, Cheol went back to rubbing your clit, keeping his same pace. “Cmon baby, what’s stopping you?” He taunted in your ear before he twitched inside you. he was close but refused to cum before you did. “I’m sorry baby but I wanna see your face when you cum..” and just like that, Cheol flipped you so you were on your back. Rolling your eyes, you responded “I thought that’s what the mirror was for.” 

“Something like that but it’s better to see it up close” He smirked as his hips started back up. it was like he hadn’t skipped a beat, your orgasm still so close that you could almost taste it. Cheol fucked into you with one of your legs over his shoulder, occasionally dipping down to kiss on your neck. “Holy fuuck Seungcheol” You moaned out. You had about 30 seconds left in you before you started seeing stars, nails digging into any part of his skin that you could find. Cheol groaned at the sensation getting closer to the edge as time went on. “Want me to-” He couldn’t even finish his question before you cut him off with an immediate yes. 

“Right there oh my g-” Your sentence was cut short by your second orgasm of the night hitting you like a truck. The heat flowed from your spine to the tips of your fingers, back arching off of the bed from the pleasure. Cheol fucked you through your high, his orgasm following shortly after, almost making him go limp from how aggressive it was. He eventually pulled out and laid next to you, kissing your temple and making sure you were okay as he pulled you into his arms. “You feeling ok princess?”

“I feel sweaty, weak and partially sore” To be fair it had been a month since your last hook up. Cheol stood up, pulled up his boxers and picked you up to carry you to the bathroom without another word. 

“All im hearing is round two in the shower!”

“I cannot stand you.”

When you woke up, the sun was coming through slits between the black curtains in the master bedroom, a slight breeze coming from the window furthest from the bed. Your body was sore and you could only imagine how many hickeys were left on your body; more specifically how many did Cheol forget were in noticeable places. They would serve as simple reminders of last night, how aggressive he could be at times, following up with a soft side right after. So it was no surprise when you were given a massage and coddled to sleep by Cheol after such a rough time. The thought of it made you blush, shaking your head to brush off the images replaying.

Adjusting a bit in the bed, you reached over to the nightstand to grab your phone; at least you tried to before a certain someone snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Tryna fuck and roll on me hm?” He asked while placing a light peck on your shoulder. 

Giggling at Cheol’s clinginess, you turned to face him while he kept his grip on your waist. “To be fair, I didn’t exactly plan on staying the night sir. And don’t worry, I was just checking my phone.” It was almost guaranteed that your friends had texted and called trying to figure out where you were and if you were ok. I mean it wasn’t abnormal for you to leave before they did, but you usually left some type of message for them. Somebody must’ve distracted you last night…

“You weren’t gonna stay?? But I was going to make breakfast for us!” Cheol responded with a fake pout. If you didn’t vividly remember last night, his face would’ve made you think he was a little angel. You knew better though. “Woah woah. Decent sex and free food? Why are you still laying here shoo go cook bro.”

“Just decent!?” He replied, holding an offended hand to his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic he was, especially since you said it just to get under his skin. But before you knew it, Cheol was on top of you. The sight looking all too familiar, you stopped laughing and hit his shoulder. “Go cook, I’m hungry” 

“Tell me it was better than decent and I’ll make you a breakfast for a queen”

Oh it was. But you weren’t telling him that. 

“Mmmm it was aight” you replied, holding back your laugh. It was killing you, but you had to play with him justttt a little bit.

Cheol slightly shrugged and adjusted himself above you. “Then I’ll remind you how much noise you were making last night. Breakfast will come after you do”

Your eyes widened in shock. Oh this. This was not in the plans-

[yoonlyhan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ in which chigiri hyoma calls you pretty

“dang, we look amazing here. should i post it?”

chigiri hyoma glances at your phone and nodded. “yeah, caption it with something lovey dovey. let's make people jealous of us.” he smirks.

“yeah, we'll be so cute.” you laughed with a hint of playfulness. “how about captioning it the peanut to my jelly?”

“mmh... how about if you and i are socks, we would be a pair sounds like?”

“maybe not.” you and chigiri thinks for a while. “ah i know!" you said as you typed the caption for the picture.

if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber

chigiri snickered at it. “that's so unfunny but post it with that caption.”

you clicked post and laughed at it again. the picture was a selfie of both of you and chigiri while on a date. the two of you are squeezing each other's cheeks with your tongue out. the picture is silly but you liked it so much that you decided to post it on social media.

few hours later, you found a comment that made you furrowed your brows.

“someone commented that the one on the right is so pretty and some other stuff.” you told chigiri while showing him the comment.

chigiri mimicked your expression and thought a random dude was calling his girlfriend pretty on a public post until he realized it.

on the picture, you were on the left side and chigiri is on the right side.

the guy was calling chigiri pretty.

Xx_ashlou_xX:

the right side person is so pretty 😍

girl, can i borrow ur bf for a life?

#inlove

lemme be the alpha for you 🐺⛓️

why do pretty people date pretty people 🥀🥀

“this dude is actually flirting with you? in my comment section? on our picture?”

he also called you pretty though, chigiri thought.

chigiri realized that you were really not upset. you were even holding your laugh while he reads the other comment. “that dude was so funny, let me follow him.”

before you can even click on the guy's profile, chigiri snatched your phone and raised his hand while looking at the picture again.

“ah— hey!”

chigiri tsked and put your phone inside the back pocket of his jeans. “you're prettier.” he whispered.

“i'm sorry what?" you circled around him and tried grabbing your phone back.

he kept turning around to avoid you grabbing your phone back and then chigiri suddenly squeeze your cheek with his index finger and thumb.

“you're prettier, dumbass.” chigiri then leans in to kiss you in the lips.

credits to @strangergraphics for the wonderful divider ♡

masterlist ♡

© all written works are created and owned by @yoonlyhan. do not plagiarise or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances. u will be blocked :x

[prettieinpink]

NEW YEAR, NEW ME

( A collab with thee lovely lele @bloombabydoll )

If you want to reinvent and rebrand yourself, or just continue to make positive improvements in 2024, the first thing is to evaluate your current year. 

EVALUATION

Reflect on how things went for you. Was there continuous growth? Were there many difficult times? Did you discover anything major about yourself and so on. Try to summarise your year in (a) paragraph(s) at least. 

Oversee your goals. Which ones you didn’t, did achieve, difficult ones, easy ones and the impacts it had on your life. 

Compare your dream girl then and now. Is your visualisation of your life currently different to the one you have now and why? 

List any major losses or successes you’ve had in your life, and how they have helped you or why it matters to you. 

This evaluation can be as detailed or simple as you like, but as long as you have a decent outline of your year. 

PREPARING & PLANNING

To prepare for 2024, you want to know what you want life to be like in 2024. Something realistic to a point, but still is a growth journey. 

Think of something that you can associate with 2024. This can be a word, a symbol, art, a song, a book, a movie, a place, or even just all of these things. When you think about your goals and your journey, this is your theme. This is something that should relate to your goals or your dream girl somehow. 

For me, I chose a word and a song. My word is growth because, for me, 2023 was a year for just being able to shed my old self which I did achieve however I just felt there wasn’t much growth as an actual person and not just in my environment. 

For my song, it is Mayflowers by Proleters and Taskrok. This song is the epitome of what I would imagine, is the most polished mindset. I would say perfect, but having a perfect mindset is near impossible. I want to have a mindset glow up because I’ve just been hard on myself lately which has caused my confidence to plummet. 

Before we get into the fun part of the preparation stage, we have to do some organisation in our life. I want you to take a look at your daily lifestyle and your habits, and be completely unashamed about this. 

Then categorise these habits into two sections; Leave and Leap. Leave habits are habits that you are leaving behind in 2023, leap habits are habits that are leaping into 2024 with you. 

Any habits that are self-destructive, addictive or generally harmful are leave habits. Beneficial habits and self-building are leaping with you into the new year.

I want you to do the same for people in your life, all environments (school, work, online etc) and anything else you believe needs to be sorted out. 

This works better if you can reason with yourself why it is a leaping or leaving habit, but don’t try to convince yourself a bad habit is good or vice versa. 

Now, I want you to document an honest paragraph about who you are right now. List your bad and good habits, your strengths and weaknesses and your behaviours. This one requires a bit more detail. 

Then, write a paragraph about who you will be in 2024, your dream girl. List her habits, lifestyle, behaviours, mindset, strengths and anything else extra. I’ll explain later but do not include materialistic desires in this your dream girl. Once again, this one also requires details. 

Stemming from those paragraphs, I want you to create specific and achievable goals. SMART goals are best, but I want to introduce you to how I set goals. 

I divide my year into quarters. For each 3 months, I have 3-5 goals for those months. Usually, it’s one from each area of my life. Then, I break down these goals. 

Questions and How They Help 

Why do I want to do this goal - For motivation and commitment. 

How it’ll benefit me - For the sake of improvement. 

How can I involve myself in this goal - To achieve your goal.  

I prefer this method because it is a lot simpler for me, as I am just a young girl and my bigger goals are more in the future in which I’ll utilise SMART goals. 

To create good goals; Make sure they align with your current values and life principles first. Try to avoid creating goals that you have just taken from the internet. Those goals just aren’t it and you most likely won’t follow through with it. 

Be specific. Don’t say you want to eat more healthily, instead say you want to include (a certain group of veggies/fruits) in your diet and reduce the intake of ( food/drink). 

E.g using eating healthy example

I want to eat healthy -> I want to start including foods that boost my immunity system and support my skin while reducing those that have the opposite effect. 

Then break down those quarterly goals into monthly, weekly and daily goals. Make these habits that you can establish in your lifestyle and have a way in which you can refer back to your progress. 

EXAMPLE GOAL BREAKDOWN

Quarterly Goal - Read 6 books.  

Monthly Goal - Finish 2 books.

Weekly Goal - Be or near half way of one book.

Daily Goal - 20 minutes of reading per day. 

AREAS TO SET GOALS IN YOUR LIFE

Academics

Spiritual

Fitness/sport

Health and wellbeing

Mental health

Personal life

Relationships

Hobbies and recreation

Now for the best part- vision boards! Collect all of your favourite images that embody your quarters or the whole year, then put them in one place where you can see them regularly!

Some ideas are a scrapbook, Pinterest boards, mood boards, playlists etc. 

Choose your theme; It can be your healthy girl era, your academic come back or whatever you want. You can have more than two btw.

Use quotes! Then actually say them in your daily life as a way to shift your mindset to reflect said quote.

Include inspirational people. It doesn't even have to be a millionaire or a very well established person, it could be your friends or someone on the internet.

Be imaginative. Your vision board doesn't have to realistic in my opinion, as the whole point of it to me is that viewing it daily and considering it to be part of your life one day allows for you to open up to those opportunities.

Materialistic Wants

I feel obligated to make this a separate section. This section is practically tangible objects that you want.

However, when choosing this said object that you want, mindfully think about why you want that thing specifically.

It doesn’t have to be meaningful, but as long as each thing on that list has got a purpose to you, and will serve you, I think it’s all good!

Conclusion

If you want, you can definitely start implementing habits before January. However, I believe that as long as you go into 2024 at least knowing who you want to be and shedding away any limiting beliefs, you’ll be fine.

Make sure to incorporate some self care rituals into your daily life as well✨

To end this, I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas! And that 2024 they will achieve to close that gap with their current selves and their dream girl selves! 💖🙏