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hanna ♡ she/her. 20. southeast asian. libra. hufflepuff. procrastinater. dreamer. dramatic. i write sfw but also reblog nsfw. multifandom. blurbs. inconsistent writing schedule. i write fem!reader w she/her pronouns
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est. 2022. you are not allowed to copy and distribute my work elsewhere without my permission.
Summary: Bob’s having trouble dealing with the intense crush he has on you. He thinks it’s best to keep it all in but you want the opposite.
Contents: fluff, New avengers, takes place in the avengers tower, Bob is down bad, roughly based on the song guilty as sin by Taylor swift, a little suggestive (Bob's having thoughts about you), reader is oblivious at first, comfort, reassurance, happy ending. Not really proof read, maybe proof skimmed?
You never picked up on the way Bob seemed to curl into himself whenever you entered the room. The way he made as much space for you as possible and tried to be invisible. It was just typical Bob to you.
He was doing it now as you entered the kitchen after a sparing sessions with Ava. You went straight to the fridge to grab a water and only after closing it did you see Bob, standing with his arms folding in the crook of one of counters.
"Hey," You offered a smile and he returned one back. "Thanks for washing dishes, you really don’t have to do that we can pick up after ourselves." You remind him after eyeing the empty sink.
"Oh, it’s the least I can do." Bob shrugs and scratches the back of his neck.
"We appreciate it. At least I do." You make your way out of the kitchen with your water but not before offering Bob another smile.
Once you’re out of sight, Bob shakes his head, feeling a sense of humility. Like he does after every encounter with you.
You’ve always been kind to him. But he noticed the change in his feelings towards you after game night last month.
Bob had been a bit more bold that night. He’d called Walker out for cheating during uno. Walker didn’t take it kindly(although he was in fact hiding cards underneath his seat). Walker had been harsh in his defense against the accusation and you were the first to defend Bob. The rest of the team had hopped on the ban wagon and forced Walker to stand up and just as Bob had stated, uno cards fell from Walkers ass.
Bob felt good knowing you had his back.
After that he started noticing more things about you. Like how you gave the smallest tasks your all. How encouraging you were with the team, he’d watched as you squeezed Ava after she’d phased for longer than she initially thought she could without, well, dying. Some mornings he’d watch you make sure there’s enough water in the coffee pot so when Bucky gets his cup of Jo he isn’t as grumpy.
And mostly, Bob admires how when you’re feeling overstimulated or down you don’t take it out on everybody else.
Bob found that he just liked everything about you and he accepted that his feelings wouldn’t be going away.
When night fell, Bob woke from a nightmare. Though he could never remember, he knew that the void had yet again plagued his mind. He crawled out of bed covered in sweat and decided to go to the kitchen for a glass of water.
As he crept down the hall he heard faded sounds of laughter and when he rounded the hallway corner he saw lights from the tv flashing in the dark.
You were watching some sitcom, curled in a fuzzy maroon blanket, eating gummy worms.
Bob contemplated turning around and heading back to his room. The moment he decided it was probably the best thing for him to do if he wanted to avoid embarrassing himself in front of you, you turned your head to face him.
The alert quickly left your eyes and a gentle smile replaced your features.
"Hey," you said softly.
Bob timidly waved.
"Sorry is the tv too loud?" You asked reaching for the remote.
Bob quickly shook his head, "no no no, not at all, I just couldn’t sleep."
You nodded, understanding. Not only because it was Bob and you knew the darkness in his past still haunted him but because you also couldn’t sleep.
"You wanna join me?" You offered, even holding up your bag of gummy worms.
Bob only nodded before padding over to the sofa and taking a seat in the corner. You scooted closer to him to hold out the bag. Bob was going to refuse, not wanting to steal any from you but he saw that you were pretty adamant on sharing so he took one.
He also didn’t mind how you’d stayed close to him through out the rest of the night.
Bob had nearly lost it when you stopped into his room fresh out the shower. Your hair was wet and you had your towel wrapped around you.
"Do y'know where the cotton balls are?" You asked.
Bob didn’t even realize you’d spoken. He was more focused on where the towel had just wrapped around the top of your breasts. Then his eyes moved to your bare legs and he nearly died then and there. His thoughts started rushing to scenarios where he’d be able to touch you, drag his hands along your bare legs, and kiss the area above your breasts.
"Bob?" You raised an eyebrow before it clicked.
Bobs cheeks turned beet-red and he averted his eyes to his hands.
"Um, I-I’m not sure. With all the injuries you all sustain I doubt we have any left." He stammered out, trying his best to recover, hoping he didn’t just completely screw things up between the two of you.
"Okay, I’ll make it work. Thanks." You awkwardly stepped out of the room. Not because you were weirded out by Bob's reaction but because somehow you felt like you’d weirded him out.
You were aware that the two of you had grown closer and though Bob never expressed his limits and boundaries you were always aware that they were there. Maybe entering his room, his personal space was a crossed line. Not to mention wearing nothing but a towel on top of it.
This time you’re the one shaking your head, fighting off the sense of embarrassment.
After a mission briefing the next day, you were quick to hurry out of the office room.
Bob was now sure he’d completely fucked things up between you two. Why else would you avoid him like that? You didn’t offer your usual soft smile from across the table that morning and not even a mumbled good morning and now the thought of you was keeping him up at night.
Just beneath his door he could see faded changes in light. Before Bob knew it, his feet padded to the door and he slowly opened it.
Tonight it seemed you were watching some game show.
As he made his way down the hall, your head came into view, sitting in front of the screen and eating grapes. Bucky had once commented that being in front of the screen was bad for your eyes but you just shrugged at it and it only then occurred to Bob that the reason you stayed up so late at night was probably because you couldn’t sleep either.
You sensed him even with his socks walking on the marble flooring. Turning your head you offered a smile. "I can turn it down if it’s too loud."
"No, it’s fine." Bob scratched the back of his head and contemplated what he would say. He’d never felt this way about anyone; his past had consisted of abuse, drugs, and self-loathing. He wasn’t sure how to handle a situation with someone as soft as you. He awkwardly made his way over to the couch and sat down, making sure to keep some distance between you two.
"Are we okay?" Bob blurted all of a sudden.
"Yeah, why wouldn't we be?"
He shrugged and averted his gaze, "I don’t know, I thought I might’ve weirded you out or something."
You shook your head, "No, why would you think that?"
"Because I’m me."
"I like that you’re you, Bob." You reassured. Hesitantly you scooted an inch closer to him and turned to fully face him on the couch. Shifting your legs to a sideways angle and leaning the weight of your head on your loosely closed fist, while your arm rested on the back rest of the sofa.
"I don’t make you uncomfortable?"
"You’re the most comforting person in this building," You tell him. You take a second to evaluate him, his posture, his facial expressions. Nervous as usual but he also has a look of hope on his face.
So you took a chance and leaned in and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.
"Is this okay?" You asked.
You felt him nod before he uttered a soft "Yeah"
After a few moments of Bob coming to the conclusion that this was really happening, he finally relaxed into you and wrapped an arm around your body to pull you closer.
"I don’t weird you out, do I?" You asked, jokingly.
"Yeah, a little bit," came Bobs reply.
You gasped, and playfully nudged his shoulder. "Bob Reynolds did you just make an attempt at humor?"
"Yeah. Was I successful?" He questioned while scratching the back of his head.
Your soft laugh was all the answer he needed.
The two of you watched the game show until you dozed off.
It was the first good nights rest Bob had ever gotten.
You and Bob were on the couch till morning. Sound asleep and oblivious to your teammates staring down at you two.
"I did not see that coming," Walker commented.
Alexei hummed in agreement.
"Really? I’ve had a feeling for weeks." Ava countered.
"Yes and Bob hasn’t been so good at hiding his little crush." Yelena added.
"Hm, what about you Buck?" Walker looked towards the kitchen where Bucky was sipping his cup of coffee.
He sighed, "I don’t care."
A/n: Hi and thank you for reading. I might do a second part because I just love Bob so much and he deserves all the love in the world. Anyways I hope everyone’s having a great day.
Summary: Bucky has the biggest crush on you but he can never bring himself to ask you out and he's so done with the teasing everyone else does about it
Warnings: it's very fluffy but also angsty because Bucky thinks very lowly of himself. mutual pining. bucky who yearns. bit of jealously, but does it count if it's because his cat? Everyone say thank you Sam. Bucky who is scared of rejection and who thinks you deserve better than him. patient reader, like omg she's so patient.
Word Count: 2.8k
Present for @buckysdecaflove! Hope you enjoy lovely!
Bucky doesn’t mean for it to happen. It’s just something that sprung up on him the first time he met you. When Steve brought you to Wakanda and introduced you two with this stupid smug grin on his face like he knew exactly what was about to happen.
You put your hand out and looked at him like he was just Bucky. You smiled at him and told him your name. And Bucky’s brain short circuited for a solid ten seconds.
He hates that that was your first impression of him. How he immediately felt hot and struggled to say his own name back. And then he did and he knew that was stupid because Steve had told you about him. You already knew his name.
But it isn’t until years later. Years that hadn’t been years to him because they passed in a blink of an eye for him. When quiet had settled within the Avengers Compound and slow days rolled in.
It wasn’t until the afternoons where you’d had a second cup of coffee at the kitchen island with him while he had his first because he didn’t wake until 11 unless he had to be up. Words barely spoken. The days where you’d casually mention a book you’d read and Bucky would find himself writing it down so he could see what you like. The nights where you’d both be in the gym together and he’d keep an eye on you while you lifted something heavy.
It wasn’t until then did he realize just how fucked he was.
You were the best part of his day without even trying to be and that made it so much worse.
It’s stupid--not you. Him and the way he acts. He’s a grown ass man, not a school boy, his brain shouldn’t just stop working because you smiled or hell even looked at him.
You also deserve better. You don’t deserve rough and bloodied hands. You don’t deserve someone who can barely sleep peacefully through the night. You don’t deserve someone as haunted as him.
What you deserve is the world and he wishes he could give it to you.
~
The smell of coffee brewed earlier this morning lingered in the kitchen and mixed with the faint scent of burnt toast from the bottom of the toaster that no one had gotten around to cleaning out.
Sunlight comes in through just the right - or wrong - angle through the wide windows that make it bounce off the polished floor and shine far too brightly then it has any right to.
There’s stillness in the space, the kind that comes from the quiet, the kind that settles a pounding heart--a kind that makes Nat’s and Yelena’s chatter from the other end of the room nothing more than a buzz that Bucky tunes out easily.
It’s far too early--earlier than Bucky likes to be up, but Sam had other ideas. He walked into his room like he belonged there and dragged Bucky out of bed. Literally. Sam ignored Bucky’s threats and just yanked his blanket, taking Bucky with it with a harsh thud onto the floor and then into the hall.
THANK GOD you didn’t see. He had been in just his boxers after all.
But now Bucky was up and his mind had no intention of falling back asleep after training anytime soon so he settled on breakfast and coffee. Strong coffee that kept Bucky from sneering at Sam.
Who wakes up at seven for sparring!?
Bucky should, at least, be able to push Sam down the stairs.
“Oh, mornin’ Bucky! You’re up early!”
He nearly choked on his cereal at the sound of your angelic voice and nearly got whiplash as his head cranked in your direction, still struggling to get his food down correctly. With his face turning red—it’s just the food, no one can make him admit otherwise.
There’s a smile on your face, it’s sweet and soft, and makes every wall he built crumble immediately. It makes his stomach twist and his heart pound wildly in his ears like a hammer.
Maybe mornings aren’t so bad after all. Not if he gets to see you.
Bucky swallows, thickly, attempting to force down the logs that suddenly formed in his throat, but the action is in vain. His mouth moves but words struggle to roll off his tongue as his gaze follows you while you move towards the fridge.
“Hey.. Mornin’...” He finally manages to say and instantly curses at himself internally.
You pull out the cake Torres made yesterday that somehow survived to today. “You and Sam heading out?” You ask, helping yourself to the last slice.
Bucky looked down at himself, then remembered why you were asking; because of the time. “No. He dragged me outta bed to spar.”
You hummed in response and licked a piece of frosting that got on your finger and Bucky’s brain malfunctioned entirely.
“That sounds like him. Y’know he tried to get me to join too, but I already promised Wanda we’d head to the farmer’s market this morning. We brought back a lot, but I got some plum jar for you, it’s in the pantry. I tasted some myself. Had to make sure it was good before I bought it,” you rambled, rambling that Bucky could listen to for hours.
Instead, he blinked. “You got me jam?” he asked slowly.
You nodded like it was no big deal. “You like plums,” you said so simply, voice muffled from the bite you took, and finally turned, leaning against the counter.
Fuck, you were beautiful. Eyes that marveled the heavens. A smile that made his knees weak. And a touch that was ungodly gentle compared to how you treat your enemies.
He realized you had said something else and were looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Buck? You good?”
He nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just--. Just tired.”
Your face crinkled in the sweetest way, not pity, but still care. You pushed off the counter, plate in one hand, and moved towards him. “I’ll tell Sam he’s gotta let you get enough sleep.” Your hand fell on his shoulder and even through the fabric of his henley it felt like his skin was on fire. You can’t keep looking at him like that. It’s not fair. Not when he could never be more than just this to you. “And then he can mess with you. After the eight hours.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off yours. “I’m afraid that’s easier said than done,” he murmured.
You snorted. A noise so close to your laugh that he adored. “True,” you mused. “We are Avengers. See you later.” and squeezed his shoulder.
He nodded. “See you later,” he mumbled as he watched you walk away, longing shimmering in his steel blue gaze.
The space is quiet for a solid five seconds after you leave, your footsteps growing dimmer down the hall, and Bucky realized who was still in the room as he turned and saw them.
Nat and Yelena were grinning, eyes swimming with mischief, and it made Bucky’s stomach sink because he knew what was coming.
“Coward,” Natasha muttered in Russian.
And so it had begun.
Bucky sighed, heavily and slumped forward in his seat.
They did this every time.
“Are you going to wipe off your drool from the floor?” Yelena asked.
“Y’know normal people ask out their crushes, not whatever the hell you’re doing,” Nat mused and sipped from her coffee while searching for Bucky’s gaze--something he refused to give either of them.
Bucky wanted to sink into the floor. “Do you have to do this?” he grumbled.
“Talking to a woman isn’t as hard as she makes you.”
Death would be too good of a punishment for Yelena.
The stool squeaked from under Bucky as he prominently stood up, taking his bowl with him.
But Yelena kept going. “It’s literally so easy. It’s ten words. ‘Would you like to go on a date with me?’ Then you eat her out. Every woman wants that. Hey! You always have to let a woman finish before you leave!”
~
It’s game night when someone finds the chance to tease him about you again and it’s Sam this time.
It’s stupid. He shouldn’t even be staring--there shouldn’t be jealous churning in his gut, but there is.
You're sitting on the floor, back brushing against Wanda’s leg, and in your lap is Alpine. You’ve got her face in your hands and you’re giving her soft little pecks as you consistently mutter how Alpine is such a good girl. How Alpine is such a princess.
And Alpine is eating it up. She’s no doubt purring as she just lets it happen. As she just leans into your touch. It’s like Alpine knows Bucky is watching.
He wants that to be his face you’re holding. His face that you’re kissing. But it’s his damn cat.
You’re completely ignoring the chaos around the coffee table. So is he. He isn’t even aware of whose turn it is. He’s just watching you pet Alpine.
It’s strange that Alpine is letting you do this. She hates everyone. She hates Steve for fucks sake. The first time Bucky introduced them after he brought the feline home she tore up Steve’s arm and they had to get the blood stains outta the couch. But for some reason she liked you, basically as much as she liked Bucky.
Bucky never questioned why she liked you. Of course, Alpine has great taste in people. But that still didn’t mean it wasn’t odd to see at first.
“Are you glaring at your own cat?” Sam whispered into his ear as he leaned over.
Bucky’s jaw ticked and he looked away from you. That lasted about five seconds.
“You can’t seriously be jealous.”
He was and it was so stupid.
Alpine was getting to do something Bucky has wanted to do for months. How was that fair?
“You could just go over and talk to her.”
No. Bucky already knows what happens when he tries to do that. He’d much rather become one with the ground than make a foul of himself. Again.
Sam sighed. “Happiness is not this hard. Dude, you walked into a wall because you were too busy staring at her last week and she noticed. You genuinely can not be anymore obvious.”
No. You had seen the aftermath. If you had noticed the fact that he had been staring at you then he would’ve probably jumped out the window.
“Maybe I should give Joaquin 50 bucks to ask her out,” Sam mused.
Bucky’s chin snapped in Sam’s direction.
Sam snorted. “You’re hopeless,” he said bluntly.
Sam wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. First off, giving someone money to ask someone out. That was an insult to the recipient. Sam wouldn’t do that to you. Not even to get Bucky to finally man up. Right?
~
Bucky didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.
He stared at the ceiling, unable to get the things that played in his mind to go away.
Joaquin showing up to your room with flowers. Joaquin flashing that flirty grin your way. Joaquin taking you out like Bucky wanted to do.
You saying yes.
You wouldn’t say yes, would you? You didn’t like Joaquin like that. But you were single. Bucky knew that. And Joaquin was right there. Joaquin was sweet and… not broken. He wasn’t someone who got woken up in the middle of the night by nightmares that left his skin damp with sweat. He wasn’t someone who looked down and saw blood dripping from his hands.
You deserved the world, not someone who was haunted by his past.
“She wouldn’t, right?” He murmured to the furball curled up against his leg.
Alpine’s eyes opened at the sound of his voice.
“It wouldn’t happen,” he insisted.
But…
“She deserves to be happy.”
His jaw ticked.
“I could make her happy,” he blurted.
He made her smile. He made her laugh. Sometimes so hard she would snort and clutch her stomach. When has Joaquín done that?
But there was so much blood on his hands. So much pain he caused.
“You think I could make her happy?”
Alpine merely only blinked at him before her chin returned to her paws and her tail flicked on top of her pink nose.
Bucky let out a frustrated breath. “I’m not overthinking this. I’m thinking about this the correct amount.”
Alpine didn’t even grace him with a sigh.
“You rub it in just because you can and I know you do.”
This wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked to Alpine about you and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“If she says no then we’re moving to a different country, you know that right? I don’t think I could show my face ever again.”
There was a soft thump as he lay back down. “I just need to get over this crush. That’s all.”
~
By eight he’s outside your bedroom, pacing like a madman.
He shouldn’t be out here and he knows he shouldn’t but he is anyway, and every time he turns around to walk away he stops in his tracks and returns to the line he’s been walking back and forth for the past 40 minutes.
Coward.
The word rings in his ears.
He used to be able to do this with ease. He used to crack that smile that always had dames swooning. He used to know what the right thing to say was.
But that was so long ago and you weren’t just anyone. You were his friend. You were someone he trusted. You were someone too good to lose.
He needed to leave. He needed to return to his room before you showed your face and saw him out here.
But the way you looked at him. The way you always relaxed when he was in the room. The way you always fell asleep on missions so quickly when he was there.
He raised his knuckles but drew it back immediately.
Would you like to go on a date with me? Please?
No. No. That sounded desperate.
He was desperate.
Could I take you out on a date?
I think I’m in love with you.
No. Absolutely not.
He can’t do this.
You’re going to reject him. You’re going to rip out his heart and throw it onto the floor.
He’s going to have to move. Maybe running from those bounty hunters in Madripoor would be a better fate than hearing your rejection.
The door opened and Bucky froze like a deer in headlights. Heat instantly flooded across his skin and his clothes felt way too tight.
You startled, not expecting anyone to be standing there, and he cursed internally at himself for making you react like that.
Your hair is a mess and your sleep wear wrinkled.
And the softness that comes with the traces of sleep that lingers erases at the sight of him.
Shit.
You put a hand over your chest. “Oh—Jeez. Don’t—. Hey, Bucky.”
Fuckin’ idiot.
A sheepish look passes over his heated face. “Hey. Hi.”
Hi???
Her brows furrow and she glances over his shoulder for a moment. “Whatcha doing outside my door?” You asked, lightly.
“Nothing. Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Fuuuuucccckk
“… it’s not nothing,” he admitted quietly.
And you waited. You always waited. You never rushed him, not with anything that wasn’t life or death.
“I had a question.”
Still that patience you always held for him stuck to your face.
He swallowed thickly
“… would you… wouldyougoonadatewithme?” He finally blurted and immediately wanted to become one with the floor.
He didn’t wait for your response, he just looked down.
Something soft swam across your face, it came with the way your heart clenched and stomach twisted in knots.
Your lips ticked up, not amused, just fond. “Could you repeat that?” You asked even though you had heard him.
He took a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the doorframe. “Would you go on a date with me?” He asked, forcing the words to roll out slower.
He peered up and realized how flushed you were. How you were looking at him like that. So fondly.
You smiled. “I was waiting for you to ask.”
He blinked. “You knew?”
You nodded. “I suspected and you aren’t exactly the most subtle man about it,” you admitted.
Then that softness melted into something shy and your eyes flickered down. “But I just wanted to make sure you wanted this.” You gestured between them. “That you took the time you needed. I didn’t want to rush you,” you said gently.
He searched for your gaze. “I want this,” he blurted firmly. “I want you.”
You gazed up and tried to fight the smile that threatened to come to your lips. “Tonight?”
He nodded eagerly. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“See you then, Bucky.”
His skin buzzed. His heart hammered. And his stomach twisted in a million different ways. “See you then,” he murmured and quickly turned on his heels, hoping you wouldn’t see the smug smile on his lips and hoping you didn’t see the way he punched the air when he thought he was far enough away.
satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .
the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.
“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”
“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”
“i definitely didn’t.”
“no? must’ve imagined it.”
you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.
“you interrupted me again,” you say.
“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”
another kiss.
“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”
“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.
“i doubt it, you big back.”
“you’re so mean to me.”
you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.
“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”
“…is it working?” he muses.
you pause. “…maybe.”
“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”
“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”
he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.
“oh? dating me is questionable?”
“sometimes.”
another kiss.
“when you leave your socks everywhere.”
mwah.
“when you eat all my snacks.”
mwah.
“when you—”
he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.
“…see?” he murmurs.
“you are so annoying.”
“but?”
“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”
his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth
“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.
“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”
“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”
“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.
“you should be embarrassed.”
“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”
your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.
“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”
“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.
⡴ gym teacher!sukuna has an embarrassingly known crush on school nurse!reader
lowkey wanna turn this into a full oneshot
if he heard one more twelve year old’s squeaky voice whispering to one another, saying he’s ‘got a crush on the school nurse’ he swears he’s gonna write up the whole grade.
god, it’s even worse when one of the eighth grade girls come up to him when he’s on lunch duty.
“mr., mr. ! did you know the nurse mentioned she likes tall guys when i went into her room for a tylenol !”
“what does that have to do with me ?” he grumbles, scrunching his face while the girl and her friend stare up at him.
“well everyone knows you like like her—”
“GO SIT DOWN!”
he swears the whole lunchroom conveniently goes quiet when he yells that as the girls squirm away back to their tables and start whispering around gossip.
and even worse than the girls that draw hearts around you and sukuna’s staff photos next to eachother in the main office, he’s got gojo. gojo, who ships you two and nags him like worse-than a middle school girl. gojo, who shoves you two together for any school event.
“what game do you have planned for tomorrow?” you ask, leaning over to whisper to sukuna as eighth grade awards are called for each subject, timing claps inbetween your words while names are called. you smirk, “how many kids am i gonna have sent my way next time?”
“just dodgeball.” he leans down to whisper flatly against your ear, still staring down a kid giggling in the seating rows of the auditorium and effectively getting him to stop with his gaze.
“your version of dodgeball is basically to the death, i might have to have paramedics in my room on standby.” you joke, turning to smile at him so sweetly. in his mind, this counts as him making you laugh and therefore counts as a win.
he chuckles lightly, just a quick huff of his chest, but essentially the hardest he can laugh if he’s not looking at a kid getting tackled in class. “these kids will toughen up eventually, i am just teaching them to do it early.”
“were you a weak kid that needed to toughen up? i can really only picture you as a big scary dude.”
“i was actually a severely malnourished child due to my mothers impoverished state during her pregnancy.“ he says, truly not realizing how solemn he sounds in his voice even as he means it as a light hearted jest.
you blink at him, face contorted in confusion and awkwardness. he wants to hit himself.
the only thing that saves him from not saying anything stupid again is the end of the assembly, marked by gojo yelling into a megaphone and for kids to round up by homeroom.
the following week he’s still embarrassed to even look you in the eyes. he’s mulling over how stupid he must’ve looked infront of you while sifting through the equipment closet.
he hears steps echo throughout the currently empty gym before he yells out.
“gojo i’m not covering your lunch break, fuck off—” he turns around to not see the usual suspect he finds during his free period. instead, he sees you, leaning against the door in scrubs and white coat clinging to your body. he stills in his motion.
you speak before he can (if he can speak at all in his embarrassed state).
“i understand the confusion, he bothers me all the time too.” you dismiss, smiling at him with your glossed lips he probably thinks about hourly. waitwaitwait, gojo talks to you all the time ? he’s going to kill that lanky fuck. “just wanted to drop these off for yuri in your next period.” you jostle around a pill bottle in your hand, “she can get fainty on gym days so give these to her just in case to help prevent that.” he knows it’s your job and all, but your concern is honestly kinda cute.
“uhh yeah i’ll be sure to.” he nods, right as you drop the bottle on top of a stack of rubber cones by the door before you walk out. and he would just like it to be known he definitely didn’t stare at your ass as you left.
and he typically makes it easier for himself to deny how down bad he is to you, but now, after you spent a week of saved up sick days out last week, he’s kind of craving your voice. so who can blame him when he calls his 6th grade nephew into his office while he’s supposed to be at lunch.
“look, kid. i’m going to need you to do something, and i’m gonna need you to not be annoying about it, kay?”
yuji furrows his brows, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.
“you,” he gestures to his nephew, “are going to act like you collapsed and let me bring you up to the school nurse. you are then going to be quiet when i talk to her.”
“is it cause you have a crush on her—”
sukuna tenses before cutting him off.
“do a good job acting and i will consider buying you that human earthworm blu-ray. do you hear me, brat?”
yuji’s eyes light up at the mention of the dvd.
“is this impression good enough then?” yuji leans and clutches at his side in fake fatigue while moaning dramatically for help, then immediately straightens up with a smile like he’s waiting for a rating. sukuna shakes his head and genuinely wonders how he’s related to this—in sukuna’s words— pea brained doofus.
he dials your number on his offices phone, sitting tense in his chair while he shh’s yuji. yuji nods and salutes as sukuna continues to roll his eyes.
yuji could’ve sworn he saw him smile when you pick up. he continues to watch sukuna fiddle with the curled wire of the phone as he explains yuji’s apparently dire situation. he can just barely hear the muffled sound of you saying ‘just bring him up and i’ll check him out.” over the speaker of the phone before sukuna hangs up and fixes his hair.
sukuna walks out the door and desperately tries to ignore yuji’s terrible post fainting impression behind him as his nephew follows his step to your room.
just before they step into your room he whispers to yuji as he leans over.
“if you can bring up me being single i’ll take you out for ice cream, brat.”
Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader
Rating: T
Warnings/Tags: Fluff, accidental nudes, bob is having a breakdown. No smut in this one
Word Count: ~2,791
Summery: Reader sends Bob a nude by accident and he is being TOTALLY cool about it ( NOT)
Authors Note: This was my first request! Im on a fluff train right now I love soft Bob...also i dont know how to end stories so... sorry
She texted him a lot. That was something she did now….a lot. For a while.
Bob didn't think about it too hard. Thinking about it too hard meant thinking about why she texted him, and why it was more than she texted anyone else (he'd noticed, not that he was going to do anything with that information, but he'd noticed), and why every time his phone buzzed and it was her name his whole chest went warm like a pilot light catching.
So…. He didn't think about it too hard.
Tuesday. Kitchen. Sandwich. He was building something involving turkey and an ambitious amount of mustard when her name lit up his screen. A photo of the sunset from the roof. Then a complaint about Yelena that was mostly exclamation points. Then a link to a golden retriever falling off a dock, no comment attached, because she knew he'd click it and she knew it would fix whatever needed fixing.
(It did.)
He was smiling. Standing in an empty kitchen, smiling at his phone, mustard knife in one hand. He clocked this about himself and moved on.
Does this work? I can't tell if it's too much.
Another photo incoming. She was getting dressed and she was asking him. That was... she wanted to know what he thought. About how she looked. She was standing in front of a mirror somewhere in this building right now, thinking about him while deciding what to wear, and his neck was already warm and she hadn't even sent it yet.
He typed back one-handed. For what?
Three dots.
Just out. Drinks maybe. Is it too much?
He could feel the reply building. Something easy. Something that was almost flirting if you tilted your head, but deniable, always deniable, because that was the game and he was very good at it and very tired of it and… not brave enough to stop.
Her next message came through.
He opened it the way he'd opened every message she'd ever sent. Thumb on the screen, no thought, the same muscle memory as breathing.
It wasn't the outfit.
in fact it was… no outfit at all
His brain didn't catch up. There was a gap... half a second, maybe less... where he was just seeing her. Taking in information.
Oh.
Warm light, from the lamp on her desk. Her mirror was filthy which under different circumstances might have been funny or ironic. And she was...
Oh no.
The phone was face-down on the counter. Both of his hands were flat on the granite. The mustard knife was on the floor.
His heart was beating so fast, in a medical context, it would involve someone using the word event.
The phone buzzed against the counter. And again. And again and again and again, her panic arriving in pieces he could feel.
He didn't turn it over. He didn't need to. The texts lit up the edges of the screen, fragments he caught sideways without meaning to.
WAIT
BOB
WRONG PHOTO
OH MY GOD
THAT WASN'T
BOB PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN'T OPEN THAT
He looked at the ceiling. The ceiling was fine. The ceiling had never made him feel like his skeleton was trying to leave his body.
He left the kitchen. Didn't clean up the sandwich. Didn't grab the mustard knife. Walked to his room at a speed that he was going to call "brisk" because the alternative was admitting he was fleeing and that's a bit embarrassing.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
His room. Door shut. Phone in his hand because somewhere between the kitchen and here his body had made that call for him.
He put it face-down on the nightstand. Sat on the edge of the bed.
Stood up.
Sat back down.
Okay.
He had seen her. Not the way he normally saw her, the way that already made his hands stupid and his thoughts go sideways. Not the across-the-kitchen way. Not the she-just-laughed-and-now-he-couldn't-remember-what-year-it-was way, which was already more than he could handle on a given Tuesday.
He had seen her the way you see someone when there is nothing in the way.
And his brain had... it had just...
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. His face was still hot. It had been hot since the kitchen. It was possible his face was going to be hot for the rest of his life, maybe he would develop some sort of cool face melting powers…
Oh God
The phone buzzed on the nightstand. Her messages were still coming. He could feel the shape of them without looking... the apologies stacking on top of each other, building a tower of mortification he recognized.
I'm so sorry.
I was sending you the outfit one and I grabbed the wrong photo.
Please delete it.
I want to die.
Like actually die.
Bob are you there?
He needed to reply. She was panicking and it was because of him. Because he hadn't said anything. Because he was sitting on his bed like a malfunctioning appliance instead of being a normal person who could type normal words with his normal hands.
Normal…normal…normal
He could do this. He could type a response. Something easy and reassuring. Something that said hey, no big deal, accidents happen, already deleted it, we never have to speak of this again.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
The problem was that he… hadn't deleted it.
The problem was that his thumb was already on the screen, already opening it, before the responsible part of his brain could file an objection.
Don't.
He looked.
She was sitting on her bed, legs folded under her, her weight settled back on her heels. The light was warm and low and it caught the curve of her waist, the soft dip where it met her hip, the way her stomach rounded just slightly below her navel. Soft. Everything about her was soft. The fullness of her thighs pressed together, the way her breasts sat heavy and natural without anything holding them, the slope of her shoulders where the light ran out and her skin disappeared into shadow.
Fuck shes so beautiful
She wasn't posing. That was the part that was going to kill him. She was just looking at herself. Her chin was tilted up, her lips barely parted, her eyes on her own reflection with an expression he had never once seen on her face. Not for him. Not for anyone in any room he'd been in.
Like she had caught herself in a private moment and captured it. So soft and very naked and….
Dont Look…
Bob's mouth was dry. His hands were shaking. He could feel his pulse in places that had no business having a pulse right now, and he was very aware, that he was hard. From a photo. On his phone. That she hadn't even meant to send him.
He closed it. Pressed his palms into his eyes so hard he saw colors. Maybe if he pressed hard enough he could erase the image from his brain.
Dont want to erase it
She took that photo for herself. Not for him. She'd been alone and she'd felt good and she'd wanted proof. And she'd been texting him. About an outfit. Because what he thought mattered enough to ask. Both of those things lived in the same phone and neither of them had anything to do with each other except that they were both her and she was...
perfect
He wasn't sorry. He felt a lot of things right now... panicked, overwhelmed, hot in the face, something big and unnamed living behind his ribs... but sorry was not in there. He'd looked and he'd looked again and the worst part, the part that the cold voice in him would use later, was that given the chance he'd look again.
He did not know what to do with that.
He picked the phone up. Put it down. Picked it up again.
He started typing.
He typed no worries and stared at it.
No worries. Like she'd bumped into him in a hallway. Like she'd accidentally taken his coffee. No worries. Two words so aggressively casual they were practically wearing sunglasses.
He deleted it. Tried again.
Hey. Don't worry about it. Seriously. These things happen
These things happen. To who? To who did these things happen? In what universe was he drawing on a wealth of experience where beautiful women accidentally sent him photos that should be hung in museums? These things happen.
He was going to throw his phone into the sun.
Delete.
Haha no big deal! Already forgot about it 👍
The exclamation point alone was a felony. The thumbs up was a war crime. And "already forgot about it" was the most transparent lie he had ever constructed, which was saying something, because he'd once told Bucky his chili was "amazing" before purposefully knocking the pot over for everyones sake.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
He went with: Hey. It's okay. Don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us
Sent it. Read it back. Wanted to die. Happens to the best of us. What did that even mean? What was he referencing? His extensive history of accidentally sending nudes? The time he didn't do that because he had never done that because he had never in his life...
She was typing.
Oh my god Bob I'm SO sorry. I was trying to send you the outfit pic and I grabbed the wrong one from my camera roll. I'm literally going to move to another country. I'm going to learn Portuguese and start a new life and never look anyone in the eye again
Something in his chest loosened. She was funny when she was panicking. It got him every single time.
You don't have to learn Portuguese
I'm already looking up flights
I hear the language isn't that hard actually
Bob…I'm serious I'm so embarrassed I could die
He typed back too fast, the way he always did when she was spiraling and he needed her to stop. Hey. Seriously. It's fine. I'm not weird about it. You're fine.
He was so weird about it. He had never been more weird about anything in his life.
You swear?
I swear
You deleted it?
His thumb stopped moving.
The cursor blinked. He watched it blink. It blinked like it had all the time in the world, like this wasn't a yes-or-no question that was going to determine the entire trajectory of his evening and possibly his life.
Yeah, he typed. And then sat there. Looking at the word. Not pressing send.
Because he still hadn't.
He switched to his photos. The image was still there, in his recently saved, sitting between a screenshot of a recipe Ava had sent him and a blurry photo of a pigeon he'd taken for no reason.
Her. The warm light on her skin. The soft curve of her stomach, the fullness of her thighs. That expression. The one that wasn't for him.
He stared at it for three seconds. Four. Five.
He deleted it.
It felt like pulling out something that had only just started growing roots, and his chest ached in a way that was completely disproportionate to what had actually happened, which was deleting a photo from his phone, which people did every day, all the time, without feeling like they'd given something back they weren't finished holding.
He sent the yeah.
Thank you, she replied. Can we just... pretend this didn't happen?
And there it was.
The thing that was worse than the photo. Worse than the panic, worse than the guilt, worse than the little commentary in the back of his skull. She wanted him to pretend. She wanted to put this back in the box where it was before, the easy, deniable, just friends who text a lot box, and he was supposed to help her close the lid.
Pretend this didn't happen.
He couldn't.
He could delete the photo and he could swear he'd deleted it and he could type yeah of course and send a laughing emoji and go back to being the version of himself that functioned. But he could not un-know what she looked like when she was alone and felt good about being alive. That was in him now. Underneath the panic, in the place where the jokes ran out and there was just the want. The big, stupid, undeniable want that he had been folding into smaller and smaller shapes for months so it would fit inside the deniable box.
It didn't fit anymore.
He put the phone down. Picked it up. Put it down.
Picked it up.
Yeah, he typed. Of course. Already forgotten.
He sent it. Read it back. He hated it.
He put the phone on the nightstand. Stared at the ceiling. The ceiling looked back, unhelpful as ever.
Something was building in his chest. Steady…rising…
He sat with it for thirty seconds. A minute.
He put his shoes on.
He didn't remember the walk. Hallway, stairs, another hallway. His shoes were on and then he was standing in front of her door before he had the chance to talk himself out of it.
His hand was raised to knock.
He could still leave. He could turn around, go back to his room, text her something funny in the morning, and they could both pretend that the last hour hadn't cracked something open that was never going to close on its own. He could do that. He was good at that. He had been doing that for months.
He knocked.
Silence. Then footsteps, soft and quick.
The door opened.
She'd changed. Oversized shirt, sleep shorts, her hair pushed back like she'd been running her hands through it. Her eyes were red in a way that could've been crying or could've been the specific exhaustion of wanting to disappear and not being able to. She looked at him, and whatever crossed her face was too fast for him to catch.
"Bob?" Quiet. Confused. A little afraid, like she wasn't sure which version of this conversation he was here to have.
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
All the way here. All the way down the hallway with something building in his chest that felt like the truth, and now he was standing in front of her with his hands at his sides and absolutely nothing to offer except the fact that he'd shown up. That he'd chosen to be here instead of somewhere easier. That the phone in his pocket was empty but the image was still in him, warm and close, and he didn't want to pretend.
"I cant forget," he said. Quiet. To the doorframe, not to her. "I tried. I can't."
She stared at him. He made himself look at her.
Whatever was on his face, she saw it. All of it. The want and the guilt and the terrified, no-jokes-left thing underneath both of them. Her hand tightened on the edge of the door.
Her lips parted. She didn't say anything.
He didn't say anything else.
The hallway was very quiet.
She stepped back. Opened the door wider.
He went in.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Her room was dim. One lamp. She'd wrapped her arms around herself, standing in the middle of the floor like she didn't know what to do with her own body, and he recognized that, because he didn't know what to do with his either.
"You weren't supposed to see it," she said.
"I know."
"It wasn't for you. It wasn't for anyone. I just..."
"I know." He looked at the lamp. Made himself look at her instead. "That's the part I can't forget."
Her arms tightened.
"You looked..." He stopped. Started over. "You looked like you'd caught yourself being happy. Just you, by yourself, happy. And I deleted it. I swear I deleted it. But I couldn't delete that I saw it, and I didn't want to lie to you about that. I've been lying about a lot of... adjacent stuff. For months. I'm very tired."
Silence.
"Months?" she said.
"So many months."
Something in her face came loose. Not the mortification. Underneath it. And there it was... the expression from the photo, or the beginning of it, aimed at him this time.
She laughed then. Wet and sudden, like it got out before she could check it. Then she crossed the room and put her forehead against his chest, and his arms went around her without checking with him first.
"Maybe we just stop pretending then," she said into his shirt.
"Okay." A breath. "Okay."
They stood there. Behind his rib cage, the pilot light had ignited. It wasn't going out.
TagList: @my-name-is-baby
FUCK WHAT THE FUCK !!!!!! this is so so beautiful and pretty, like the way you write anything that bob does or his thoughts IS SOOOOOOO HIM. so accurate i cannot. the way the thoughts come in, the way the stops himself UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO SO GOOD i loved this sm🩷🩷🩷🩷
Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Female Reader
Warnings: Mentions of childhood abuse, bruising from intimacy, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
Word Count: ~1.2k
Summary: Bob wakes up next to her for the first time. It's perfect. Then he sees the bruise.
Authors Note: This is eh but im back from being sad, I couldnt get this out of my head, I hope I did it justice.
He woke up slow.
Not the way he usually did… startled, disoriented, blinking into the light…
This was different. This was warm sheets, and soft ligh… a particular kind of quiet that meant someone else was breathing nearby.
Shes here… she stayed…
She was on her stomach. One arm tucked under the pillow, the other stretched out toward his side of the bed like she'd been reaching for him in her sleep. The blanket had slipped to her waist sometime in the night… and the early light caught the line of her back, the curve of her shoulder, the place where her hair had fallen across the pillow in a way that made here look… well.. . like a fucking angel honestly …
Bob stayed very still.
Not because he was afraid. Because he was trying to memorize all of her.
The way the light hit her. The way she breathed. The fact that she was here…in his bed, and she chose to be, and she hadn't left in the middle of the night….and she was still here.
He was aware, distantly, that this was the kind of thing normal people probably didn't have to remind themselves of. That waking up next to someone shouldn't feel like some sort of possible crime.
Any yet…..
His fingers found her spine without deciding to. Just… tracing. Lazy and aimless, down the knobs of her vertebrae to the small of her back.
Her skin was warm.
She made a small sound, not awake..not quite….and shifted closer to his hand.
Just this. Just stay like this for a second…
His thumb brushed her hip.
He felt it before he saw it. A tenderness under his touch, a faint swell where the skin was different. He shifted. Looked down.
Purple. Blue at the edges. Four distinct points of pressure, curving around the bone.
Fingerprints.
His fingerprints.
Bob's hand jerked away from her skin like he'd touched a burner.
He was out of the bed before she was awake.
Not gracefully. He moved like the sheets were on fire, pulling his hand against his chest, and the sudden absence of warmth was what woke her.
She blinked up at him. Sleep-soft, confused. "Bob?"
He was standing at the side of the bed. Shirtless. His hand still held against his chest, fingers curled in, and all the color had gone out of his face.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She pushed up on her elbow. "What?"
"I'm sorry. I'm… god, I'm so sorry. I didn't…" He gestured at her. At her hip. At the bruise she hadn't looked at yet. "I did that. That's… those are my… that's from me."
She looked down. Twisted enough to see the purple marks curving around her hipbone. Looked back at him.
"Bob…"
"No, I know. I know. I should've been more careful. I should've… I knew I was too strong for this. I knew it…. and now you're…" He waved his hand again, a panicked little circle in her direction. "You're bruised. I bruised you. That's… that's not…"
"Bob, it's fine."
"It's not fine. That's… no. That's the opposite of fine. That's, like……" His voice climbed. "I could've really hurt you. Like, really hurt you. I'm… I don't even know my own… I can bench press a building, and I just… I just grabbed you like it was…"
He tried to laugh, but it came out wrong.
"Cool. Great. Super-soldier serum, and I can't even…" He ran both hands through his hair. Held them there. "What if it was worse? What if next time I don't just… what if I actually…"
He couldn't finish that one.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. Not near her. As far from her as the mattress allowed. His hands were in his lap, palms up, and he was staring at them like they belonged to someone he didn't trust. Chest tight and aching.
She sat up. The blanket pooled at her waist. She didn't reach for him yet.
"Bob. Look at me."
He looked at the window instead.
She waited.
He was still looking at his hands. His thumb kept dragging across the opposite palm, back and forth, slow and repetitive.
"My dad used to…" He stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "Yep. So when I was a kid, there were always… my mom had bruises. I had bruises. And it was just… that was just what hands were for, you know? That's what they did. They left marks on people. With the…" He trailed off. His thumb kept moving across his palm.
"I told myself I wasn't gonna be… I wasn't like that. I'm not like that." He looked up at her. His jaw was working, his eyes wet. "But you've got…. so I'm just…"
He stopped. Looked back at his hands.
She didn't answer right away.
Not because she didn't know….Because the answer mattered too much to rush.
"Bob." Quiet. "Come here."
He shook his head. Small, barely a movement. "I don't think I should… I don't wanna…"
"Come here."
His eyes went to her, then the door, then her again.
He moved towards her.
Slow. Careful. The shame of the situation thick in his throat. He sat close enough that their knees almost touched, and he kept his hands in his own lap.
She reached for his hand. He flinched.
She took it anyway.
He let her….which was something at least. His fingers stayed limp, curled slightly inward. She held his wrist and turned his hand over. Opened it. Pressed his palm flat against hers.
"These hands were shaking the first time you touched me," she said. "Because you were so scared of getting it wrong. Do you remember that?"
He was quiet. His jaw tighten…. He looked away.
"I left marks on you," he said. Almost a whisper.
"Yeah." She brought his hand to her hip. Pressed it there, right over the bruise. Held it. "I'm not scared of you, Bob."
His hand was rigid against her skin for a long moment.
Then his fingers softened. Spread. Settled against her hip before trailing agsint her skin.
There you go.
She leaned in and kissed him. Soft. Unhurried.
He kissed her back. Barely. Checking whether it was safe.
She kissed him again. Slower. Her hand came up to the side of his face, and she felt the tension in his jaw, the way he was holding himself so carefully, so she stayed anyway.
His forehead dropped against hers.
"I'm sorry," he said. One more time. Quieter than all the others.
"I know." She brushed her thumb across his cheekbone. "You don't have to be."
Red Scrubs | Bob Reynolds x OXE Experiment!Reader | One shot 1.3k
Bob wakes up next to you in the desert with no memory of what happened in the vault.
Content: canon-divergent, what if Bob wasn't the only experiment? What if you were worse! Bob is a sweetheart. Memory loss.
For @fluffyjuly Day 14 - “You stayed?”
And @juniebjonesin picnic prompts - quiet affection / yearning
Masterlist | Marvel | Bob Reynolds
It's hot, it's far too hot and Bob isn't entirely sure what he's going to do about that but considering you've been out cold for almost an hour, he figures it's probably his responsibility.
He'd woken in the blazing sun wearing hospital scrubs with what looks like bullet holes in them. His are blue-green, yours are red.
Something itches in the back of his mind that you need to run, but he's not entirely sure from what. Just a growing sense of dread and a desire to be literally anywhere else.
He can see dust in the distance, cars driving along a road maybe? And part of him knows that could be the easiest way out of this. Following the road to a town and then calling for help.
But he also can't remember who he's running from, what if they follow him? What if they answer?
Bob doesn't have the best relationship with the police and he's not keen to see if it's changed since the last time he was cuffed in the back of a cruiser. He's fairly sure there's at least one warrant out for him and he isn't overly keen to find out if it's still outstanding.
There is a building though, and from this distance, it looks abandoned. At least it might shelter you both from the sun for a while.
With some effort Bob rolls you onto your back, checking your face and temples for any bleeding. It's a beautiful face, one that tugs on his memories in a way that has his gut twisting. But nothing clear surfaces.
It tracks, his memory has been terrible for years, since he started using, and he doubts that whatevers happened to him in between will have helped.
Unlike his scrubs, yours are mostly intacked, apart from one hole at your shoulder. There's no blood there, but there is a neat circle punched out of the fabric. Looking down. He can see a wider circle on his own chest in the same place.
Did you get in front of him? And then he what? Took the rest of the bullets and lived? Whatever you'd both taken it had to be crazy.
At least there was no blood, just your floppy body.
"Hey," he taps your cheek gently, "hey wake up."
Your eyelids flutter, your hand shooting up to wrap around his wrist, and then you're sighing into his palm.
"Can you walk?"
You shake your head, but Bob manages to get you half to your feet, your weight leaning against him as you both stumble through the dry grass and rocks of wherever the hell you ended up.
The building looks further away now if possible. But together you pick your way towards it.
On closer inspection, it looks like an abandoned garage, maybe there'll be some running water, what if there's food?!
Bob picks up the pace and beside him you try to keep up, your feet dragging.
He doesn't remember what kind of man he was before what is clearly the worst trip of his life, but he knows he'd never leave you behind. He knows he's not the kind of man to leave anyone behind, but certainly not you. With renewed energy, he picks you up, hooking his arm under your legs.
He takes a stumbling step, but then he finds his balance. Despite the heat you tuck your face against his neck, your breathing shallow. It feels sticky on his skin but the mostly regular inhale and exhale helps him keep a slow, but solid, pace.
He was right, the garage is abandoned. A calender displaying a mostly naked woman tells him it was last used in 2019.
As soon as he has you settled in a shady spot, he tears it off the wall and drops it into the waste paper bin.
Mercifully the tap is still working, ice cold water bangs out of the pipes, rattling the entire sink. He runs it for a few minutes, just in case, and then fills a cracked mug to the brim, sipping slowly.
He can feel your eyes on him from the main garage room, so he brings the mug through and holds it up to your dry lips.
"You stayed with me." You croak the words out slowly and it takes Bob a moment to process them.
"I couldn't leave you in the desert."
"Not just the desert, before."
"I don't really remember before." He hands you the mug so you can have the last drink.
"Oh," you close your eyes and sigh.
You look sad again and he isn't sure why, he wants to make you happy.
He saw a few cubbies in the backroom, maybe there's food.
Bob hurries around, refilling the mug and looking for anything left behind, returning after a few minutes with some Twinkies and a fruit roll up.
"You must be hungry."
You crack an eye and take the offered treat, eating it slowly and savouring every bite.
The calm look on your face makes Bob feel better too, and he wants to keep it that way for as long as possible.
"Let's stay here for a while, then we'll figure out our next steps."
Your hands moves across the concrete floor and covers his, there's dirt beneath your nails and your skin is dry, but the weight of your palm is a reassurance he'll be searching for for a while.
"Thank you, Ba—Bob." You close your eyes again, catching your words, and there's that tug at Bob's memories again, making his stomach churn.
"You're welcome."
Before he can process anything else, the door opens and a cross looking man in leather is marching in, followed by a familiar group of sorry looking anti-heroes.
"Bob!" There's a blonde woman with a bloody nose and a dirty face looking very excited to see him.
His memory pulls again.
Yelena.
She's wriggling in her handcuffs to try and get closer to him and the action reminds him of something. A tunnel, no, a tower, a silo, an elevator shaft.
"Uh—hi," he didn't think he could possibly feel anymore confused than he already was.
"This is Bob?"
"Yes, Bob!" The group choruses, and a tall man with a scruffy beard a dust bin lid — no — that's Captain America — was Captain America follows up with a muttered, "how many times, Bucky."
That's who he is, the man in leather, Congressman Bucky Barnes, what on earth is he doing —
His train of thought is interrupted by a loud ringing and Barnes answering the phone.
"Yes," his voice softens, "Mel… yes, I found them."
There's a series of protesting noises from the assembled, tied up, group.
"If I tell you that I found your experiments too, you'll do the right thing, won't you — yes plural."
Barnes squints over at you both and Bob can feel you shrink behind him, curling your body inward, arms around your knees. He leans over, covering you from Barnes' eyeline.
"Two, Bob and I dunno, Bob's friend. He's in blue, yes."
Bob looks down at his scrubs.
"— and she's in red. Yes she, yes red — oh. Right. Okay."
Barnes puts the phone down and slides it into his back pocket.
"Robert?"
"You can just call me Bob."
"Your friend there, what's her name?"
"I can't remember," bob shrugged.
"Ma'am, do you remember?" He's obviously trying to be nice, but he looks ready to fight.
"Uh— I'm not sure, I just remember following Bob out of that basement and then now I'm here."
Barnes looks at everyone and circles a finger. "We need to get out of this building, you too Robert."
Bob looks at you instead, tears in your eyes.
"Why are they frightened?"
"I don't know," you choke out. Maybe you do know, maybe you've seen a video of why and maybe you can feel why bubbling in your body the more frightened you become.
"Robert," Barnes says gently, "she may be dangerous, why don't you come outside with us?"
Even Yelena is looking pointedly at the door, imploring him with her eyes.
the atmosphere was calm, well as calm as it could be with sukuna there.
you sat curled up in his lap while he yelled at toji through his headset for the nth time. you shifted slightly before slowly sliding out of sukuna's lap, he muttered a quick
“where ya goin?” his eyes shifted towards you, now fully out of his grasp.
“bathroom.”
he let out a low hum and returned his hard gaze back to his monitor.
-
“holy shit ryomen, yer washed.” toji snickered through the mic.
“easy to talk when you pick OKC every fucking round.” sukuna snarled back.
“aye back to back dubs speaks for itself.”
“its been two rounds already?” sukuna checked his phone, its been almost 2 hours since you left his lap.
“two rounds of belt? yea bro.” a snort came out from sukunas headphones.
“im hoppin off anyway to go out with my girl. cus i got other shit to do, like my girl. get it? cus i have a girlfriend.” sukuna teased.
“blah blah blah we get it asshat.”
sukuna chuckled to himself before logging off and heading over to barge on you in the bathroom, which was locked? he lifted a heavy knuckle and tapped on the door twice.
“babe, you takin’ a shit?”
a small snort escaped from the other side of the door, “yea ryo ive been shitting for two hours.”
his crimson eyes fluttered into a roll before he twisted the knob again, “okay brat then why is the door locked, let me in.”
needy bastard. “kuna you can wait for like two minutes, im almost done.” you added the final touches to your face before adjusting your dress again. kinda short. eh its fine.
he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed “almost done what? I can smell your body wash, did you wanna go on a date ton-”
the door swung open, revealing your finished look. hair done and neat, makeup on point, gold jewelry layered all over your body, and your new brown mini dress that hugged your body perfectly.
sukuna paused, looked you up and down, eyes immediately turning hungry.
“black shoes or brown shoes?” you cocked a brow at him.
“fuck, you look gorgeous baby.” he answered completely ignoring your question, “where we goin’?”
you puckered your lips and smiled back at him, “thank you. okay so black or brown?”
“brown. and give me like fifteen minutes, I'll be ready.” he bee-lined straight to the bathroom before your manicured hand pressed against his chest, stopping him right in his tracks.
“ryo you can’t come to girls night. I've told you this like a thousand times.”
girls night? It was like someone shot him in the chest right then and there. not only were you looking absolutely beautiful on a night the both of you had off, you were going out with your friends. instead of sukuna. not to mention how much they hated sukuna. the burly mans shoulders tensed,
“nonono, the hell you mean girls night? I thought WE were going out tonight.” it was almost pathetic how whiney his voice sounded. to anyone else it would've been a once in a blue moon sight, unfortunately for you it wasn’t.
“ryo I told you last night that I was going out with them.”
“did not.”
“did too.”
“did not.”
“ryomen i literally told you before we went to bed and you said ‘okay ill drive you.” you pushed past him and slipped on your brown kitten heels, before admiring your full look in the mirror.
“There's no way I said that, I was out cold before you even shut off the light.” he followed your trail like a sulking puppy`. a large six foot something sulking puppy.
“sukuna i promise you i’m not lying.” you paused with your purse and keys in hand.
“fine. but if i get handsy in the car, you cannot blame me. you look so hot.” he grabbed the keys from your hands and opened the front door.
you tsked, “mhm mhm no touching while my girls are in the car.”
“what.”
“we’re picking them up, remember?”
“you’re shittin’ me.”
-
after thirty minutes of being interrogated, looped into gossip, and asked the ‘you’re a guy what do you think?’ question approximately fifteen times, sukuna finally got to the restaurant.
your girls murmured a bunch of rushed thank yous before quickly hopping out of the car and heading into the restaurant. sukunas hand still gripped the wheel,
“thank you for dropping us off kuna.” you leaned over the center console and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to turn his head.
“call me if anything.” he responded in a low mumble.
“i know i know.” you smiled before turning to open your door.
“wait.” you paused and turned to look back at your boyfriend who was already outside of the car, he made his way around to your side and opened your door. He held your hand in his large gruff one before pulling you into another kiss, he pulled away just an inch from your mouth, his breath still on yours,
“i’m fucking the shit out of you when you get home.”
you felt the warmth pooling in your cheeks, you bit back a smile and mumbled back
“promise?”
sukunas hands gripped at your waist, before dropping to his sides, a slow huff escaped his nose, “pinky.”
you snorted before walking off, feeling the sting of sukunas hand slapping your ass as you did so.
-
sukuna knew as soon as you called three hours later, slurring every other word, that he would be eating his words that night.
after dropping off your equally drunk friends, he carried you into bed, taking his time removing your make up because he knew you would yell at him if he didn’t, then taking off your heels and dress, changing you into one of his shirts.
“ryo.”
“hm.”
“my friendsss saidd they loveeyou.”
“really?” shocking. considering they mean mugged him all night. didn’t even bother to say his name properly.
you nodded slowly under the sheets.
“why’s that?”
a hiccup escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut “they said… youmake mee glow.”
“they’re idiots.”
you snorted, “loveeyouu.”
“i love you too brat.”
he couldn’t even be mad at you for blue balling him all night.
when you text your jjk bf a photo of your baking but they can't eat it because they're cutting ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა
includes: gojo, geto, sukuna, yuji, megumi, choso
read pt. 2 with toge, yuta nanami, higuruma, toji here !
a/n: i made these in like an hour for fun yayy if anyone knows more realistic apps to make these PLS lmk bc i used memi message but i've def seen other texting aus that look way better
𑣲⋆ pairing: fem!childhood best friend x jim halpert
𑣲⋆ summary: jim keeps hiding your stuff, so now you’re taking his lunch and he might just realise you’re his type after all.
𑣲⋆ disclaimer: jim gets a little… horny (kind of) he’s just obsessed, fluff, pet names and banter
𑣲⋆ a/n: idk i think this is really sweet 😭😭 i had fun writing it lmk what u think 🫶
masterlist | navi | buy me kofi <3
“What about you, Jim? What’s your type?”
You didn’t even hear their conversation, too busy trying to find your packed lunch in the fridge. You wonder if Jim hid it, it wouldn’t surprise you. He has been hiding small things of yours ever since you guys were kids. From candies, to pencils to bracelets.
So you didn’t even realise where his eyes were going when it landed on you. The camera immediately zooms into his smirking face.
“Uh, I’m not too sure.“ he mutters, avoiding everyones eyes.
“What? Are you gay or something?” Roy jokes out, chuckling.
Jim chuckles awkwardly, “I just like…” he pauses, trying to find words that are not too specific, “…pretty women.”
Suddenly your voice booms throughout the eating area.
“Halpert!” You yell, stomping over to the smiling man, “Are you a child?”
JIM: What is actually my type? Um, I like when they’re a little mean sometimes.
Jim shrug his shoulders, looking around cluelessly, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
JIM: A little scary.
You narrow your eyes, leaning forward to his space, “Where’s my lunch?” voice dropping an octave.
The man swallows, trying to hide how excited he’s getting at you being close to him. “Is it not in the fridge?”
Taking a deep breath, you lean back, taking his tupperware containing his ham and cheese sandwich, “You’ll get this back when I get my food.” you give him a tight smile, turning around.
“Oh! Come on! That’s not fair!” he groans, but he’s wearing the biggest smile anyone has seen today.
JIM: Someone who stands her ground.
You turn your head to meet his eyes, and smirk before leaving with hips and hair swaying.
JIM: A little hot— I mean pretty. Beautiful. Yeah, attractive.
The face that holds a thousand words, everybody can tell how much the effect you have on the man. His eyes are sparkling, cheeks a little pink and his breathing a little heavy.
He stares at the camera, giving them a small upside down smile as he chuckles.
JIM: What?
✮⋆˙
The sounds of keyboards clicking, soft chatter and paper strokes filled the quiet office. Jim has been staring at you ever since you cut his lunch short.
You are trying really hard to not meet his eyes.
But what is Jim Halpert if not persistent.
The phone on your table rang, “Hello Dunder-Miflin. This is Y/N.” you automatic customer service voice came into play, pitch a little high, tone a little sweet.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
JIM: Yeah, we have been friends for a while. We sort of just clicked, when we first met.
You immediately hang up.
JIM: Oh, the pet name is just banter. She calls me babe and baby all the time.
Jim chuckles, dialling and calling your extension again. Today is a slow day and he has nothing better to do than annoy you.
The ringtone vibrates throughout the whole office, and you could go all day without picking up but you can’t avoid the nasty glare that Stanley is giving you.
“You gonna pick that up?” the old man say annoyedly.
Huffing, you finally answer, “Hello Dunder-Miflin. This is Y/N.” rolling your eyes and meeting Jim’s across the room.
“Hey, I need help with something.” his smile could be heard through his voice alone and the sight send unwanted butterflies to your stomach.
You decide to play along, “I would be happy to help you, sir.” pen tapping against the stack of paper on your desk.
Jim’s cheeks warm at your reply, “I can’t find my lunch and I need your assistance in finding it.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, you try to fight the grin that’s going to take over your face, “Well, funny coincidence. I can’t find mine as well. How weird is that huh?” you meet his eyes, tilting your head and pout mockingly.
Y/N: I put it in his car. I hope it stinks.
He narrows his eyes, “I think I saw it near the elevator. But I’m not sure.”
You scoff, “You’re so annoying.”
JIM: She loves me.
Y/N: I can’t stand him sometimes.
The man’s grin caught Dwight’s attention, “What are you smiling at? Did something happen? Does Michael have good news?”
You snort when his voice gets louder, hanging your phone and walking to their area with purpose. “Jim actually has a secret but Michael told him to not tell anyone. I’m not sure what it is but I think it has something to do with…” lowering your voice, “…downsizing.”
Dwight gasps, immediately standing up to pester Jim on his knowledge (which is nothing). With an impressive smile to your way, you wink before going to the elevator.
Jim feels his whole body getting warm. The reaction has been getting more frequent when being around you. He does not hate it.
✮⋆˙
It was now 5pm, people have start to pack their bags, shutting off their computers and walking out. The lights are flicker shut, you think you can still hear the sounds of phones ringing.
Jim’s body warmth and cologne is hard to ignore. Its the same one you gifted him last year on his birthday, you were pleasantly surprised when he liked the scent, let alone wearing it everyday.
He has a habit of lingering around you before you leave, “So…” he starts, “When can I get my lunch?”
You huff out a laugh, “Oh baby, that food is long gone.”
JIM: See.
The tall man freezes for a moment, he knows you’re joking but he will never get used to you calling him with those sweet pet names.
“Seems to me like you owe me dinner then?” he smirks, both of you falling in sync with each other as you step out of the building.
Nudging his side, you ponder for a few seconds, “Mexican?”
“Perfect.” before he mutters quietly, “You’re perfect.”
JIM: I’m dead. I didn’t mean for it to slip out.
You furrow your eyebrows, “Sorry what did you say?”
His cheeks are blazing hot, “Nothing.. just mumbling.”
Although unconvinced, you nod slowly. It was quiet for a few moments, “Oh! I got you something.” pulling out a bottle from your bag, “Cause I took your sandwich.”
