greenbench

[greenbench]

Everyone read this right now. This is so fucking fire.

Wrong Number, Right Person - Bob Reynolds

Summary: A voice message sent to the wrong person sparks an unlikely friendship between two people who have never met. Can an online friendship turn into something more? 

Content: fem!reader, female pronouns used, reader on a date with an asshole (not Bob) mentioned, mentions of familial death and grief, slight misconception between Bob and Reader. 

Word Count: 4.7k 

“I cannot believe you set me up with that guy. He was horrible, he spent the whole date telling me how much money he made in an industry he said and I quote ‘ I won’t understand’ and then had the audacity to explain in excruciating detail his knowledge of the wines on the menu and something about a villa in France that made the most authentic Bordeaux or some shit. You owe me big time for this, you are never setting me up again, and I am contemplating killing you for putting me through this torturous evening.” 

As Bob listened to the voice message that had been sent to him, Valentina had finally caved and gotten him a new phone following Yelena and Bucky speaking to her new assistant, hesitating about what was the most appropriate cause of action. Did he message to say that you had the wrong number? Ignore the message and pretend it didn’t happen? 

When the chime of another message sounded, Bob paused before hitting play again, allowing his curiosity to win. 

‘So, he just messaged me a picture of his dick and asked when we are seeing each other again, as even though I’m not his type, he thinks I’m okay enough to screw. Where did you find this creep? I swear to god, you are never setting me up again. Also, made it home, and he didn’t murder me, so you don’t have to call a search and rescue team on me. I’ll call you tomorrow after work if my boss doesn’t work me to death … again. Love you.’ 

With the new message, Bob realised that he did need to respond and let you know that you had not been messaging your friend but him, especially if you were going to call, that would be more awkward than a wrong person message. 

He ended up typing and retyping the message multiple times before finally settling on the final draft. 

‘Hi,  this isn’t your friend's number. I think you sent the message to the wrong person. Sorry your date wasn’t very good. He sounds like a jerk’

He reread it several times before pressing send and hearing the familiar sending sound, hoping that the message wasn’t construed as creepy. 

When you got out of the shower, having needed to wash away the lingering feeling from your date, and changed into your comfiest pair of pajamas before curling into bed. Reaching for the phone, the sight of the message notification caused your eyes to widen. “Shit”. In your rush to rant to Amara, the message had been sent to another contact which was a string of letters and symbols making AB3NJ35XROB34T. Amara was going to have a field day when this got passed on, especially since your best friend since high school had told you that the habit of naming contacts quickly and not proofreading it before saving them - Amara’s contact had been ANW4S for about 3 months before it was changed to Amara (Queen Bitch, LOML) . 

‘Hi,  this isn’t your friend's number. I think you sent the message to the wrong person. Sorry your date wasn’t very good. He sounds like a jerk.’ 

Reading over the message, the embarrassment caused heat to rise to your cheeks and you flopped back onto the pillow. Fingers hovering over the keyboard on the phone, hesitating before carefully crafting a new message

‘I’m sorry, thank you for letting me know. Going to go and find a spot for the earth to swallow me whole so I don’t have to deal with the embarrassment. Jerk is putting it lightly, total asshole is more accurate. Enjoy your night.’ 

Moving to the message for Amara and triple checking it was actually your best friend, she clicked on the microphone and started recording. “You will not believe what has happened tonight, so first of all …

The next morning, Bob opened his phone and saw a new message from the woman from the previous night. As he read it, a small chuckle escaped, and before he could think about it, he started responding. 

‘Don’t worry. I’ve done way more embarrassing things than messaging a wrong number, and the earth hasn't swallowed me whole yet. Your friend is still alive right? You didn’t end up killing her? Just don’t want to be considered an accessory to murder.’ 

The second he hit send, he wondered if continuing to message a stranger like this would be considered weird. When the sound of a message arriving caused him to look down, he half expected a ‘don’t message me’ from the mystery messenger; however, it was Yelena giving him mission updates, which had been the main purpose of the phone since Val was concerned about security risks and him using the phone to secure drugs. 

‘On way back’ 

‘Mission success’

‘Walker is being an asshole’

‘Isn’t he always?’ 

‘America’s Asshole.’ Bob replied before pocketing his phone and going to get some breakfast. Life at the New Avengers Tower was not something that he had ever imagined to be possible, then again, gaining superpowers after signing up for a drug trial in Malaysia was also something that would have seemed outrageous. Bob got to live in a multi-million dollar apartment complex with state-of-the-art amenities, even if the person funding the lifestyle was the most unethical and one of the most immoral people he had the misfortune of meeting, with people who considered him a friend, or a reluctant coworker at the very least.

Hearing the chime on his phone go off, Bob half expected to see another text from Yelena or even Ava to send him one about Walker if he was annoying the two assassins. His eyes widened when he saw that it was from Mystery Girl. 

‘Sorry about the voice messages, I’m shit at typing on the phone when I’m running late for work. Tend to send more voice memos than texts anyway. Really? More embarrassing than potentially giving a complete stranger the details of a disastrous date and making them an accomplice in the murder of my friend? Love to hear some stories, just to make me feel better about last night, of course and definitely not because I love knowing all the juicy gossip, of course. Amara’s still alive for now, apparently; that wasn't the guy she set me up with, but he had swapped places with a friend of his, and she is now pissed at him. Also, that’s totally weird right? Setting up a date and then giving it to someone else? Like, be honest about it at least, not all shady. Also, what’s your name? Fuck, sorry, spilt hot coffee down my hand, where was I? Right, when I put it in my phone, it's saved as an array of letters and numbers, so I have no idea who you are. Bye Random Stranger.’

As Bob listened to the message, he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. Hearing the voice of this person, he originally responded to be polite, and now, beginning to engage in a conversation with him, he went to the number and saved the contact as Mystery Girl. 

‘My name’s Bob, not sure how you got my number, you are not saved in my phone at all, well now you are Mystery Girl. What’s your actual name? 

I had a summer job dressed in a chicken suit and twirling a sign a few years ago, does that count as embarrassing?

Glad I’m not an accomplice to murder then. 

Hope you make it to work on time. Bye.’ 

As the weeks went on, Bob found himself checking his phone more often. He’d normally not use the phone that much, mainly just communicating with the team when they were on missions and ordering books he wanted to read. From the messages he had received from you, he had learnt your name, your boss gave evil Miranda Priestley vibes, lived in a shitty apartment in Queens following the death of your Aunt a few years ago, Amara had been allowed to play matchmaker because you went through random phases where you wanted companionship, you tended to send voice messages when you couldn’t get your thoughts sorted and it was easier to just speak them out loud, and you had one of the worse sleep schedules he had ever seen (and that was saying something). 

“Has anyone noticed that Bobby is slowly becoming more obsessed with technology?” Walker asked Yelena and Ava as they left for their mission, “especially his phone?”

“He’s getting used to having some freedom, leave him alone.” Ava snipped, though a coy smirk formed on your face, “though, there has been some blushing when he reads whatever has taken his fancy. You wouldn’t know anything about it, Yelena?” 

“Bob is being tight-lipped about it.” Yelena sighed. She had tried to get some answers from Bob on the third day of him consistently checking his phone for new notifications. “He is also good at avoiding topics. We will have to see what happens, especially with Val’s assistant moving in soon.” 

“Can’t believe we have a live-in babysitter.” Walker groaned, though he knew exactly why it was happening. Following a very public argument between Congressman Bucky Barnes and Captain America, there had been some blowback on the New Avengers, and Val’s assistant had managed to smooth over the entire issue quickly and efficiently within 36 hours. She had also smoothed out any PR issues with Alexei and Walker when their egos got too big and dealt with Yelena and Ava not being in the spotlight 24/7. “It’s going to be a nightmare and a ton of walking on eggshells while she’s yours." “It’ll be fine, she’s not as bad as Val, at least.” Yelena sighed, knowing that even though she was reasonable, Val’s assistant was an absolute pain to deal with, especially when she had not had your coffee. 

‘I cannot believe that you have never watched the Great British Bake Off.’ 

‘Go right now and watch it.’ 

‘I’m not speaking to you until you have watched 2 episodes minimum.’ 

‘Really?!’

‘Are you really ignoring me until I watch this?!’

‘Fine, I’ll go watch it.’ 

‘The things I do for you’

‘Ok, will give it to you, I’m enjoying it.’ 

‘Slight problem, I’ve finished half the season already and I want to bake a cake now.’ 

‘Right?! It’s so good.’ 

‘Please don’t bake a cake, you’ve shown me your cooking adventures or rather misadventures.’ 

‘We don’t need a burnt down kitchen.’ 

‘Maybe, I’ll send you a box mix for you to try with’

You could feel your friendship with Bob starting to grow into more, their messages, while increasing in frequency, were starting to take on a more flirtatious note. Originally, they had agreed to keep their friendship online, though both had confirmed that they were adults - Bob had joked that his roommates sometimes treated him like a child though. The more that they interacted, the more that you started to form a crush on someone you had never met, nor had even seen a picture of. Amara had teased you and told you to try and meet up with the guy, maybe it would explain why she had his name in your phone to begin with. While you wanted to know about the man and how this uncanny friendship had begun to form, she was worried about what it would mean for them if they did end up meeting. Would they be able to continue their conversations and banter? Would the chemistry be there? Would she be what he expected? 

Normally, you had a decent sense of self and were mostly happy in your skin, but putting yourself out there for a stranger to see made you nervous. There was the doubt that he wouldn’t like what he saw, or even more concerning, that he saw you clearly, even the parts you tried to hide from everyone around you. 

‘Hey, just wanted to check how getting ready for the move was going? You seemed really stressed in your messages earlier :)’ 

You reread Bob’s message over and over again, but she couldn’t exactly tell him how she was really feeling. After all, randomly blurting out that she had a crush on him was not the best idea and would probably scare him. Playing dumb and brushing it off could potentially work if not for the fact that Bob was annoyingly adept at picking up on tone and inferring what she really meant. 

‘Hey, thanks for checking in. I’m okay, just that my moving date is now tomorrow. My boss needs to realise not everyone has as much money as she does to hire people to do any labour. 

Plus, the last time I moved was out of the apartment where I lived with my aunt after her death. Keep remembering her and my uncle as I pack.’

As you ended up working through the rest of the boxes, your gaze kept flickering between the different areas of your apartment. She noted the space where the framed photos of you and your aunt, uncle and Amara were placed, now an empty space. The lack of seeing that familiar space mirrored the feeling of missing someone that she didn’t know. Though the couple of drinks youhad as you packed had made you more emotional than normal.  Whilst you were in your state of remembrance and mechanically putting your bubble-wrapped belongings in cardboard boxes with hastily scrawled room labels on them,  the sound of your phone ringing nearly caused you to drop the ugly mug that  Amara had given you when she first moved into the shitty apartment. Seeing the name Bob flash across the screen, she took a deep breath before answering. 

“Fancy hearing from you, I thought you had a doctor's appointment today Bob?” You answered, hoping that she did not sound too frazzled or excited to hear his voice. 

“I did, but you seemed upset, and I wanted to make sure you were okay, plus the doctor’s visit was quick today, just needed blood drawn.” At Bob's admission, you dropped down and leaned against the wall, where a pot plant she desperately tried to keep alive once lived. Tilting your head back and resting it against the wall, you closed your eyes and tried to gather your thoughts.

“I feel like I'm being pulled in every which way, and I have no say in where I’m going. There's a constant in my life that I want to keep, and I’m worried if I try and make him more, I’ll lose him forever.”  

The silence that came from Bob made you freeze, even with your slightly inebriated brain, she knew that something wasn’t normal in how long the silence was stretching; it had moved from comfortable to suffocating within seconds. 

“Any- anyone would want to be a constant in your life” Bob’s voice was quieter than normal and less steady than when he normally spoke to you. “Whoever it is would be lucky to have someone as funny in their lives as you.” 

“Thank you, Bob. Do you think I should be honest?” 

“Yeah … yeah, you should.”

“Bo-” You hesitated, your voice shaking as you started to try and express your feelings. Hoping that you weren’t wrong in your thoughts of his feelings. 

“Hey, I have to go. They’re calling a group meeting now. Speak soon.” Bob hung up, the sound of the disconnecting call causing the silence in the mostly packed apartment to feel crushing. Slowly, pushing off the wall, you began to finish up your packing and grab another glass of wine. 

As Bob hung up the phone, he knew that he was being a coward by ending the call with you to avoid hearing about the person she wanted in your life. Normally, they spoke about everything and anything. He knew all about your Aunt and Uncle’s death, your embarrassing high school prom date, the time Amara got the two of them kicked out of a carnival when they were in high school, that you loved cooking shows and had recipes you wanted to try cooking but cooking always made you sad because you tried recipes with your Aunt before she died and that you had wanted to be a princess alien ninja when you were a child. What he didn’t know was that there was a guy in your life, one that you wanted to keep around, the only people you mentioned were your boss, colleague and Amara, and none of them had ever been spoken about with the softness of this guy. 

He knew that he hadn’t been lying; there was a team meeting tonight, though it wasn’t for another thirty minutes. Val’s assistant was moving in tomorrow, and they were working out how to deal with the move-in process. The furniture had already been added to the room, and it reminded Bob of a hospital room with how clean, crisp, empty and white it looked. All of their rooms had looked like that when they moved in, but now they all looked varying degrees of lived-in. It also didn’t help that your room was down the hall from him; the team said it’s just how the layout of the floors had ended up, but there was a voice in the back of his mind saying it was so she would be able to spy on him for Val.

“Bob, you okay?” Yelena asked, having stuck her head into his room.

“Can you fall for someone you haven't met?” he asked, tugging on the hem of his sleeves, twisting it between his fingers. 

“Your Mystery Girl?” 

“She likes someone and wants to be more with them.” Yelena moved into the room and sat next to Bob on the foot of his bed, watching him as he flopped back on his bed. Nearly knocking the assassin off the bed with the force he laid back. 

“I mean, she’s amazing, so it’s not like I don’t get why someone would like her. I just, I feel like I missed my chance, you know? Not that I’ve been speaking to her so I can date her, she’s still my friend, but she’s special Lena. How can… “ 

Yelena ended up tuning Bob out, adding the appropriate nods and uh-huhs when needed, as she snooped through the phone he had left next to you. Normally, she would not want to go through Bob’s phone, but she had had a sneaking suspicion since her meeting with Val earlier in the week and as she typed the number saved as Mystery Girl into her phone. When she did, the number matched yours perfectly and started plotting with a sly smile forming on her face. 

“I’ll help you form a message tomorrow. Busy day with the move.” Yelena interrupted the ramblings, carefully planting the phone back where it was before leaving the room. 

“Meeting in 10, don’t be late.” 

You stood in your new room, the boxes having been picked up at 7am by a group of movers that had been vetted by your boss in order to gain access to the New Avengers tower and stacked around the room. It looked nothing like your previous apartments. A lot more spacious and a great deal fewer roaches, though it definitely felt more sterile and a whole lot less welcoming. Slowly moving the clothes into the drawers that were supplied, you tried to organise your thoughts. Bob hadn’t messaged you all day; this was the longest time that you hadn’t spoken to him since it started. He always messaged, and given how he reacted to their conversation, caused the ugly, icy feeling of doubt to claw its way into your mind and dig into the pit of your stomach. Had you lost your friendship by hinting that you liked him more than a friend? Was this his way of letting you know he wasn’t interested in you? 

“Why am I coming with you Lena?” a voice rang out, causing you to slow down in your unpacking. 

“You said I could meet Val’s assistant after you helped me with my message.” 

“Change of plan, meet her first and once that’s over you can decide your next steps with your girlfriend.” a Russian accent spoke, you assumed that this was Yelena, having met the assassin multiple times given that her and Bucky took over most of the work with Val as the unofficial leaders of the team, and Val delegated their jobs to you or Mel. 

“Trust me, this is going to be good” 

“...Fine” 

Stopping your packing, you headed over to greet your new visitors, which wasn’t surprising, your room had been a revolving door since you began the unpacking, with most of the New Avengers coming to see you in person. Ava had almost given you a heart attack when she walked through the wall right in front of you, Alexei had brought you a bottle of vodka as a housewarming gift, Bucky already knew you were coming and just told you to ask if you needed anything and John had almost been ‘volunteered’ to help move the furniture around your room so it suited your style more as repayment for the amount of extra work he caused last month. Yelena had not dropped in, and neither had the mysterious Robert Reynolds or Sentry, though from the sound of it, they were coming for their pop-in. 

“‘Lena good to see you again. Especially when you aren’t dripping blood on my files,” you greeted the blonde, who just rolled her eyes, knowing exactly the incident you were referencing. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you crossed your legs and allowed your gaze to follow the two visitors. 

“That was one time.”

“And it took me an extra 3 hours to fix up those files.” 

Bob, who had followed Yelena in, half stood behind his closest friend and stared at you. The way you spoke, the sound of your voice felt so familiar to him, and his mind was frantically starting to piece together all the conversations that he had had with you over time. You were moving into a new place with roommates because of your evil boss. New Avengers Towers was a new place for you; the team would be classified as roommates, and Val definitely counted as an evil boss. As his mind worked over time trying to form these ideas, he tried to bury them, not wanting his hopes to rise. 

“Hi, I don’t think we have officially met.” You introduced yourself, and it definitely meant more to the connection between his Mystery Girl and you. If it was you, he couldn’t believe it; you were drop-dead gorgeous, and the smile you gave him nearly made his heart skip a beat. 

“Robert I presume?” 

“Uh, Bob. I go by Bob” as he held out his hand, he noted how your eyes widened slightly and how you cautiously reached out and shook his hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I hope you like it here.”

The sharp ringing of your phone caused you both to jump, AB3NJ35XROB34T lighting up your phone screen

“Sorry, I need to answer this.” You had practically dove off the edge of the bed and grabbed your phone from the bedside table. 

“Hi, Bob.”

“Time to be honest with your feelings” Yelena smirked, looking like the cat who caught the cream, holding up a phone to her ear. You froze as you stared at her, confusion creasing your brows. The smirk on her face grew before she threw it at Bob as she hung up. “Oh, look at the time. I have to go. Have fun. You need a new password as well, Bob.” 

As Yelena left, you sat back on the bed, picking at the edge of your phone case, eyes not leaving the man in front of you. His eyes were darting between you, the phone in your hand and his phone he had nearly dropped when Yelena threw it at him. 

“So … i think i know how I have your number, it’s kinda my job to keep track of everyone's phone number for Val” You broke the silence, adjusting so you were now sitting cross-legged. “I don’t think I typed it in properly, though.” The bark of laughter that came from Bob eased some of the tension in the room.

“What was it supposed to be? Still haven’t worked that out”

“Avengers Robert.”

“I kinda like your string of letters more. Makes it special” 

“Yeah,” Bob had moved closer to you as the two of you spoke, he was now standing in front of you. 

“You said I should be honest last night right? Do you still think that?”

“Uh … Yeah, honesty is good.” You slowly untangled your legs and stood up, now standing toe to toe with him. Looking up at Bob, you finally got a good look at him. You had seen photos in his file when doing admin work for Val, but seeing him in person was a whole other ball game. Pretty blue eyes, soft features and fluffy brown hair. Your hands reached up to rest on his shoulders, stretching up and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was hesitant and barely there, but it conveyed the emotions you had kept hidden. Feeling him tense, you pulled back slightly and stared up at him. 

“Uh -

“I like you, Robert Reynolds.” 

Bob stared at you for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, you started to withdraw your hands, and the fear that your touch would disappear from him forever caused Bob to just react and not think. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, tilting his head so he could claim your lips in a desperate kiss. Unlike your kiss, which had been gentle and hesitant, this was full of unspoken promises and a need to be closer, trying to convey every feeling that he had been suppressing to you without words. You quickly responded to the kiss, matching his fervour with equal enthusiasm and passion, arms snaking up around his shoulders and fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. With a slight tug at the strands of hair, Bob gasped and stumbled, causing the two of you to fall back onto your bed. Given his reflexes due to training with the team, Bob was able to catch himself before he landed on top of you, but as he looked down at the sight of you, wide-eyed and with freshly kissed lips staring up at him, he believed this was heaven. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck, and you tugged him down, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I take it you feel the same way?”

“Definitely. I like you too.” He whispered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, adjusting the two of you now so you were both lying comfortably on the bed. You had removed your hands from his hair and now linked your fingers through his as he rested his head on your chest. 

“Yelena’s never going to let us live this down.”

“That’s fine. She and Amara can keep their teasing going for as long as they like. As long as we can stay like this.”

“Deal” 

Both of you had been right. Yelena had gone in to check on the two of you when neither of you appeared out of the room for a while. When she went to check, she saw the two of you curled up on your bed asleep, the TV in your room faintly playing Great British Bake Off in the background. Yelena had shared the news with everyone, finally giving the team answers to why Bob had been glued to his phone for the past few weeks and even managed to get Amara’s number to share the details with. Even though she teased, she was happy; she could see how happy Bob had been since you came into his life. Plus, finally having the upper hand on you was a nice ace up her sleeve. She hoped that the two of you ended up sleeping well, because she knew the team was going to have an absolute blast teasing their technically strongest member come morning. 

[greenbench]

I don't know what Freddie Stroma is putting in his cereal but he looks even better in the second season than he did the first and I've fully accepted and now love the new hair

[greenbench]

Guys, PLEASE give me your requests for Adrian!!!!Writers' block has gotten a hold of me, and I need ideas! 🙏🙏

Give me a blurb, and a 1-2k fic or headcannons WILL be written. Just specify what you want. 😛😛

[greenbench]

[greenbench]

Basically, the entire first season.

[greenbench]

[greenbench]

Quick note!: I wasn't going to post the first chapter of my little fic for a while, as I've been on a long ass no laptop vacation and haven't written much. However, because of some MF coming after my glorious Adrian Chase writers, I wrote this all in the car. I love you all, NEVER stop writing, and I hope you enjoy getting a feel for my writing style. ❤️❤️

Kiss me now. Kill him later.

(Adrian Chase x reader)

Summary: You’ve spent your life hating yourself for the things you’ve done. The people you've hurt One man saw the good in you, and you lost him. Now you want blood, but an oddly charming man might make you lose sight of your target. It's up for you to decide between vengeance and your hope of change.

Or, for short, the reader watched Chris kill Rick Flag and wanted to avenge him. If only Adrian wasn't so weirdly endearing. Whoops. 😛

(I suck at summaries lmao.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Content Warnings: Past violence, references to emotional trauma, standard Peacemaker violence, author REALLY likes writing flashbacks, emotional distress, reader is an absolute hater, moral ambiguity, author sucks at writing, and employment [YIKES].

Chapter 1: Target in Sight (1/5)

You knew Chris first. Way before you knew the 11th Street Kids. Way before they even existed. If a stranger claimed you disliked Chris, it would only be an understatement. When his name or anything that leads back to him comes up, you feel your heart drop, and everything becomes dizzy with this immeasurable amount of rage.

You had first met him when you were assigned to Task Force X. He was a total dick, yapping on and on about how he would do anything to bring peace to the world. You’ve been around your fair share of men like him, so it was never much of an issue. Just enough to make him back off, you had undermined his ego.

However, you failed to realize that he was worse than some egotistical dickwad. He was just a tool.

Rick and Chris were fighting, hell-bent on murdering each other for reasons unknown to you. You hid behind a broken wall, but still kept your eyes on the fight.

The two men were throwing each other around, and you soon realized they were fighting over a red disc.

Rick had struck Chris down with a pipe and sluggishly straddled him. Yet Rick pressed the pipe against Chris’s throat with a determined speed, winning the fight. Rick slammed Chris’s head into the ground, putting him in a daze.

Chris was struggling. His hand was grasping at the floor around him and gripped a jagged piece of tile. The Peacemaker wasted no time and jammed it into Rick Flag’s chest.

Both men finally paused. They just looked at each other. Rick broke the silence.

“Peacemaker. What a joke.” He said with his final breath before he went limp.

Chris rolled over, letting Rick’s corpse fall to the ground. You stayed hidden behind the wall, shocked. Your heart was beating at a pace you had never thought possible as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. Rick Flag was dead. Right as you were about to lunge at him, Chris’s head slowly rose towards the wall opposite the one you were hiding behind.

Through the metal reinforcements, you saw Cleo. She held Chris’s gaze for a bit before looking down at the red disc. She snatched it up immediately.

“Cleo,” Chris says. “Give me back the drive.”

She doesn’t respond and bolts out through the hall. Chris grabs his gun and chases after her.

A beat passed before you rushed after them. Chris would not harm Cleo, not if you could help it. Especially not after he killed Rick.

The mission wasn’t long at all, but you bonded with Cleo almost instantly. You both chalked it up to shared experiences. You had never really had that kind of friendship before, so you were not about to lose it now.

You followed them quietly through the dark stairwell. At least you thought you did, but the adrenaline messed with your senses too much for proper thoughts.

After several flights of stairs, you bolted through a doorway into the area with the disintegrated ceiling. The first thing you saw was Chris towering over Cleo, gun pointed at her face.

“I told you that information can’t get out!” Chris screamed. “Fuck,” He sounded distraught, like his actions pained him. His audacity made you feel sick. 

“So, okay, okay, destroy the hard drive. Why kill me?” Cleo asked, words heavy. Chris’s head hung in deep thought before he looked at her again.

”I’m through.” Chris clicked the safety off, and at that moment, you felt all the cells in your brain click off as well. You lunged at Chris, grabbing his right arm and pressing one of your sickles against his neck.

“So am I.” You snickered.

Chris quickly settled any surprise that you tossed at him and fell back, pinning you against the floor and his back. You only pressed the sickle harder against his Adam's apple. The sharp blade was cutting into his thick skin. Blood beaded out.

With all the strength Chris could muster, he gripped both of your arms and flipped you over. Your head slammed against the hot concrete, making you dizzy. You tried jumping back into the fight, but your body hit the floor once more. Chris slowly climbed back to his feet and stood over you, almost waiting for you to fight back.

“Fuck,” you groaned. Your hand instinctively grabbed your head, but you quickly pulled it back from the pain. Your hand was red.

“Why did you have to jump in?” Chris asked with a frown. His hands were at his waist.

“Friends help their friends.” You scowl, giving a swift blow to his groin. Chris teetered back. “Nice to know where your loyalties lie, Peacemaker.” Your voice was full of malice.

The concrete above you was dropping. You quickly looked over at Cleo. Her hands were still bracing her face. Your head whipped back towards Chris. He only stared before walking back to Cleo, slowly raising his silver gun at her.

You felt your blood run cold, if you had any left in you at the rate you were bleeding. You got on your hands and knees, lifting yourself. Your knees buckled under you as you took a step forward.

“Whose peace are you protecting, Chris?” You murmur as you grab your last sickle. You raise your arm, intending to slice some part of him.

With a massive crash, the building stopped crumbling down. You lost sight of Peacemaker as you saw Bloodsport land in the center of the broken concrete. Bloodsport looks down at Peacemaker’s gun and how it’s pointed at Cleo, then at you with your sickle, slicing against Peacemaker’s shoulder.

It took them ten seconds before firing at each other. After a beat, blood covered Peacemaker’s suit, and Bloodsport was unscathed.

You thought that was the last of him at Corto Maltese. When Bloodsport shot Chris, leaving him to bleed out, you thought he was dead, or at least struggling to take his final breaths. When you saw a building collapse on top of his body, you knew the Peacemaker was dead. There was no other realistic scenario.

It’s been a few months since then. You were lying low, staying in crappy motels, until you could figure some things out. What those were exactly, you didn’t know. The freedom was nice. You weren’t used to the uncertainty, as it was both calming and frightening.

You were about to fall asleep when the TV switched from static to a live program. A news anchor cuts in with breaking news and begins rambling on about Peacemaker.

Your eyes shoot open, and your blood runs cold. Christopher Smith’s face appears on the tiny screen. The header read “FORMER CRIMINAL TURNED SAVIOR OF EARTH.” Peacemaker is being branded as a hero. Something about aliens or butterflies. The anchorwoman’s words blurred together as rage consumed you.

They all claim that the Peacemaker had changed. That he was trying to improve himself. That he was trying to be a hero. They said a lot of things. Yet you knew they were all full of shit. Rick was still dead. His blood stained the Peacemaker’s hands, and you wanted vengeance. 

Your body shakes. How could he have survived that? You grab the remote as an earlier press conference airs. The brain fog quickly dissipates when she mentions Waller. You reach some clarity as you slowly remember that everything leads back to that woman. You thought you got away from her, from everything, but the past always comes back to haunt you. It’s the law of life.

The sigh you let out was audible as you grasped your face. You grab the remote, turning the TV off, after you see Chris’s face again. To calm yourself, you glance around the room, trying to find something to distract yourself. Your eyes instantly latch onto your old laptop, and the cogs start turning. You can find Chris yourself. You can finish what you should’ve ended.

Your computer whirs to life when you open the lid. A quick tap unlocked it, bringing up your homescreen. It was a picture of yourself and your mom, a random candid photo of the two of you laughing together as your mother held onto you. The memory made your heart swell.

You clicked the email icon and found a good friend’s contact. An ex-ARGUS techie you had complimented once, which led to a strange companionship. MARCELO. You didn’t know much about them, only that they were good at staying anonymous and even better at gathering information. Naturally, when you befriend a tech genius, you ask for a favor or two.

You type out your request immediately. ‘Peacemaker is alive, and I need to find him. What can you tell me about him? Please, MARCELO, I need your help.’

After you looked over the message, you hit send, hoping they still used that contact information. The tab closes,  and the screen returns to your home screen. That picture of you and your mother.

Ever since you can remember, you have always wanted to be a person who changes something for the better. Someone good. Your childhood in Gotham was a big part of that desire.

Your mother struggled to take care of you as you grew up. She made little money, working at a shitty 24/7 hour diner across the street from your apartment. Your even shittier landlord didn’t help at all when he refused to fix the giant hole in your bedroom ceiling, or anything really.

So you grew up with one mentality. You were going to make a change. If not for the world, at least for your mother. You quickly became a star student, acing everything that you could. Everything you couldn’t be great at, you tried your hardest to improve in. Getting a full-ride scholarship to Gotham University was easy once the admission officers reviewed your application. That was when you met Professor Jonathan Crane.

It was your senior year at Gotham U. You had finished the large majority of your graduating requirements, only 10 or so credits away from your degree. You decided to take a psychology class. It seemed interesting enough, something to do with fear and what it does to the human psyche. You didn’t expect much from the class. It was only a way to fix the credit issue.

On the first day, it all shocked you. Professor Jonathan Crane started with a single statement, and something clicked.

“Everyone here is afraid of something.” He said bluntly. “If you disagree, drop the class.”

And that had you hooked for a reason you still can’t name. It didn’t take long for you to rise to the top in that class, not long at all. Life was finally leveling out until it didn’t. Your midterms were coming up, and they had you stressed. They were all excruciatingly tedious projects, and what made it worse was that they were to be done in groups.

So instead of studying in peace at the diner your mom worked at, you were forced to work in the overcrowded library.

A meeting with one of your groups ended a few minutes ago with a dramatic finish, and you were eager to get back home and tell your mother everything. Your stomach growled as you stepped out of the library. You hadn’t eaten in a few hours, only surviving on cheap energy drinks to get through the day.

It was close enough to dinnertime, so you whipped your phone out and dialed your mother’s cell. It rang four times before going to voicemail. You figured she was just busy, but your gut was still suspicious. You waited for the beep.

“Hey, Mom!” You chirped excitedly. “I know you’re probably busy right now, but I just wanted to call. A guy in my group started fighting with another guy in the group, so the meeting ended early. I think it was over some girl who was playing them both, but who knows?” You laughed.

“I think I’m going to head down to the diner, so you don’t have to call back. If you, uh, even hear this voicemail before calling me back. I love you, Mom!” You hung up quickly as your bus arrived. The diner was only a few stops away.

When you arrived, there were flashing lights everywhere. Ambulances. Cops cars. Even a firetruck. You frantically ran out of the bus once it stopped.

“Mom!” you screamed, trying to dodge all the paramedics. You eventually found her beaten and bruised, on a stretcher outside an ambulance. 

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” you asked, panic rising in your throat. A quick confirmation of who you were later, and the paramedics started telling you everything. A drunk wandered into the diner and turned violent, picking your mother as his main target. No one knew his motive, but at least he was in custody. 

Your mother was in the hospital for a month after that. She sustained some traumatic injury to the head, and the doctors put her in a drug-induced coma. 

The medical bills were drowning you, and it reflected in everything else you did. You started arriving late for classes, and suddenly, you were thankful for group projects, as you didn’t bomb any of your midterms. You doubted anyone had noticed your abrupt absence until Professor Crane asked you one day.  He was curious why his former star student went AWOL. 

“You’ve been distracted,” Crane states, his lanky stature casting a shadow over the whiteboard.“That’s unlike you.” 

The classroom had emptied quickly, leaving only the two of you. The silence felt suffocating. 

“My mother is in the hospital.” You quietly answer, rubbing your arms to fight the chill. “I’m trying to make sure she has a home to come back to.” 

Crane tilts his head, almost analyzing you. “You need money.” He concludes, his voice like silk. “I need precision and confidentiality."

“I don’t understand.” You look at him with your eyebrow raised. The irony hits you hard. He wasn’t acting like himself either. 

“I have a job for you.” He says, taking a long step forward. “Generous weekly stipend in cash. You will organize financial records and track shipments for research.” 

You agreed instantly. Desperation decided for you. This was your lifeline. You were distracted enough by his offer that you didn’t ask any other questions. 

Crane didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed pleased. He had a rather eerie smile at your immediate acceptance.

‘How bad could it possibly be?’ you asked yourself then. It’s only numbers and paper. 

You know now what a mistake it was. One that you will never stop regretting. You still hear his voice late at night. You did need money, but now you feared that you owed a lot more. 

A soft ding from your laptop breaks you from your spiral. MARCELO emailed you back. You rush to click the notification.

‘I got your back, Grim. :P’ It read. A link to a PDF file was right below the text. You open the PDF, but the majority of the information is outdated. Once you reached the end of the PDF, a note was left for you.

‘Peacemaker is dust in the wind. His buddy, though? A walking GPS. LOL.’ MARCELO also included a picture of some weirdo in a blue costume and a red visor. Vigilante. MARCELO was always the quirky sort, yet never wrong.

“Alright, Vigilante.” You whisper to yourself. “I’m going to find you, and you’re going to lead me to your friend.”  You scroll back up to Peacemaker’s last known location. Evergreen, his hometown.

Your smile spreads wide with delight. One little obstacle until you get your revenge.

Note: I hope you guys enjoyed it. I really liked writing this chapter. I haven't written since my middle school Creepypasta phase. Let me know if you guys want this to be a long shot or a book with chapters. Lots of love!!! ❤️❤️

[greenbench]

Masterlist + Requesting Info

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Adrian Chase (Vigilante)

Kiss me now. Kill him later. (5 chapter story!)

Summary: You’ve spent your life hating yourself for the things you’ve done. One man saw the good in you, and you lost him. Now you want blood, but a devilishly charming man might make you lose sight of your target.

Chapter One -> Target in Sight

Chapter Two -> WIP

Chapter Three -> WIP

Chapter Four -> WIP

Chapter Five -> WIP

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

Five times you and Kurt Wagner had a moment, and the one time he does something about it.

Summary: You guys all know a 5+1 fic is. This time, the reader is a single mom whose son just so happens to be Kurt's favorite student.

It's a wip, guys 😔 Will post it later, maybe.

Will write for.....

☆ Adrian Chase

☆ Kurt Wagner

☆ Lowkey any other character in the related fandoms

Won't write about...

I won't write any SMUT smut, mostly because I don't know how. 😭 Otherwise, it's all good!

Just give me a blurb, and I'll write a little 1-2k fic about it. Or headcannons if you prefer :P

[greenbench]

When you forgot you applied to be in a fanfic tag list and are suddenly jumpscared with the most lustful, yearning, dirty, downright depraved smut:

[greenbench]

This is fire. Everyone read this right now.

It’s getting hot in here | sex pollen

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word count: 7.9k

Description: While analyzing space plants in Sue’s lab, you get infected with sex pollen. Johnny, hotshot, flirty as hell, and definitely not yours (yet) starts looking a little too good in those tight pants. You try to fight it, until you find yourself begging him to save you.

Tags/warnings: no movie spoilers. fem!reader, sex pollen, smut, johnny loves to flirt and tease, long buildup, yearning, tension, hands kink, begging, praising, fingering, oral fem rec, piv, multiple rounds.

Note: It’s getting hot in here or is it just me? 🙂‍↕️ I couldn’t help myself, needed to make another one of these with my man Johnny🔥 also I know this is very long but this is porn with juicy plot lmao, enjoy 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━

Working at the Baxter Tower had always been the dream. Years of research in botanical science had finally paid off when Sue Storm called, inviting you to study alien plant specimens from their latest space mission. It was everything you’d ever wanted.

And of course, becoming friends with her after months of working together came with many open doors, and benefits. And one of them was her brother.

Johnny Storm.

Blonde, charming to the core, unfairly handsome, way smarter than he let on. Quite the hotshot. Literally. And infuriatingly interested in you the moment you stepped into the building.

Sue said he hadn’t set foot near her lab in months. Now he dropped by almost daily with flimsy excuses, snacks, oxygen checks, dumb questions about leaf colors, all paired with a flirty comment and that unfairly pretty smile.

You rolled your eyes. Every time.

You also got flustered. Every time.

And he noticed. Every time.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself not to fall for his charm, it was practically impossible when he showed up in the middle of the day with some chips and those pretty blue eyes, saying something about how your lab coat fit you particularly nicely that day. You swore you weren’t falling for it. Not for him. Because he flirted with everyone. That’s who he was.

Still, that didn’t stop your heart from skipping whenever he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

Thankfully, he wasn’t around this time, so you could totally focus on your work with Sue.

"Okay! batch 5FA's tests are catalogued and processed, programming a check in tomorrow. Let's go with batch 5FB," Sue announced, storing the studied samples inside an isolated chamber.

"Batch 5FB is here. Thank you HERBIE," you smiled as the adorable robot placed a glass box with a metal base on the counter in front of you.

You were running a second round of tests on previously labeled specimens, checking for possible medicinal uses. You pressed the button on the base and the glass dome lifted in a soft hiss, releasing a small cloud of white fog from the chamber's interior.

Sue turned her attention to her tablet, scrolling through the database for any notes on these samples. But before she could find any, all the lights went out. All systems stopped working, including the heating.

"Not again," she groaned, setting the tablet down and standing up to head out, no doubt to scold her husband for running experiments during your lab hours.

She stormed off the room, using a soft glow of energy to guide her, leaving you alone in the dark.

Now where was Johnny Storm when you needed him?

If he weren't outside, probably absorbing flames from a burning building, you were sure he'd already be here. Flaming on with that smug smirk before Sue could even reach Reed's lab.

Maybe it was your imagination, but moments like this always felt colder when the golden sun who made it his mission to orbit you... wasn't there.

You lifted your arm to check the watch device on your wrist, one that Johnny had insisted you got 'in case of an emergency', but he just wanted you to have it to continue flirting with you when he wasn't around in the lab. This time being no exception, there was a message from him.

🔥: Will bring some snacks later, I’m sure you look delightful as always. Don’t miss me too much ;)

You rolled your eyes and shook your head amused, locking the watch before you got too caught up staring at the contact photo, set by him, obviously, when he prepared the device for you.

The lights suddenly flickered back on, and the heat kicked back in. Sue re entered the lab, looking proud of herself.

"The next time that happens, he's never hearing the end of it," she muttered, rolling her eyes with a smirk as she made her way back and you chuckled. "Now, shall we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the samples.

"I have a feeling this is a promising batch," you joked, eyeing the boring looking plants.

First mistake of the day.

You both got to work, moving in sync through the usual process. It was routine, nothing outside the ordinary, but for some reason ... you began feeling uneasy.

It started with your fingers, a soft, harmless tingle spreading up. You frowned, brushing the sudden sheen of sweat from your forehead with your sleeve.

Was the heating overcompensating? You could swear the room was warmer.

Before you could say anything to Sue, who was still calmly swabbing samples, a familiar scent hit you, making you freeze in place.

First, something intoxicatingly warm and smoky. Then, a devastatingly familiar cologne you knew too well who it belonged to.

Johnny?

Your head snapped around, expecting him to be standing right behind you. That would certainly explain the sudden heat increase, the scent. His scent.

But there was no one there.

"What the hell," you whispered, scanning the lab for any sign of him. Maybe it was another one of his dumb pranks?

Your heart skipped a beat, then started pounding. You turned around fully this time, eyes searching frantically across the room for a possible fire you could be missing.

The smell of smoke was too strong, so much that the air felt heavier. Johnny's crazy theory about the plants affecting the room's oxygen suddenly didn't feel so dumb anymore.

Oh, Johnny.

Those blue eyes. That stupid grin. Those hands. Those tight pants outlining his– wait.

What the actual hell was that thought?

And worse, why did it help?

You didn't get the chance to question your thoughts any further, because the door hissed open, and he walked in. Casual as ever, carrying two drinks and a bag of chips.

"Snack delivery," Johnny called out with a smile, tossing you a wink before turning his attention to HERBIE at the entrance. "Hey, little guy. Miss me?"

He placed the things on a counter next to the door, and crouched down beside the robot, scratching the top of the metal head affectionately. You heard Sue sighing annoyed beside you, but your complete focus was on him.

Because now you were watching him laugh, his eyes crinkling, his forearms flexing as he leaned casually on his knees, and you weren't just staring, you were obsessing. The way his fingers traced little circles into HERBIE's side. A deep red jacket hugging his frame. The outline of his toned chest under that fitted t-shirt. The way his jeans fit when he crouched like that.

Jesus Christ.

You blinked hard, turning away so fast you nearly knocked over a tray of samples.

What the hell was going on?

You weren't even looking at him anymore and still, you could feel him. Smell it. The smoke, and something warm and sweet and masculine. Something him. Stronger now, like it was clinging to the inside of your lungs. You inhaled slowly, carefully, biting your lips to keep a whine from coming out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stand stretching lazily, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a little too far. You stared at the plant in your hand like it was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen, praying Sue wouldn't turn around and notice your soul leaving your body.

"I was right, you look absolutely delightful today," Johnny said casually, leaning over the counter by the door.

You dropped the sample.

Sue did turn around this time, raising an eyebrow as you fumbled to grab it. You knew he flirted like breathing, you got used to it. But not now. Not when this indescribable heat was pooling between your thighs.

"Thanks," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at him. Because if you did, if you dared, you were about one compliment away from grabbing him by the collar and climbing him like a tree.

And apparently, your body agreed. You squeezed your thighs together, pulse hammering in your ears, because why did that compliment feel like he'd whispered it right against your skin?

"Here you go," his voice startled you when he appeared next to you, placing a can of soda and a bag of chips on the table.

And then he had the audacity to lean on the counter, tapping his long fingers rhythmically on some equipment as he peeked over your work.

It shouldn't be that hot. It's just fingers. It's just tapping.

But god, those hands...

"Did you–did you wear more cologne today?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Dammit.

Johnny straightened up in his spot, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Actually no, I forgot it today," he said, then tilted his head with a smirk. "Why? Do I smell nice?"

"No–I mean, you don't smell bad. Or good. It's just... nothing," you shut yourself up before you could continue rambling.

"Uh-huh. You okay, doc?" he asked, a smirk on his face as innocently chewed on a chip. "You look kind of sweaty."

You turned around halfway to the opposite side, facing Sue instead. Safety zone. Sue was safe. Science. Plants.

But even she was watching you with narrowed eyes now. Like she knew. Like she sensed the shift in the air, the pheromones steaming from your body.

"You're flushed," Sue said, leaning closer with a concerned frown. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," you blurted. "Totally fine. Just warm. The heating came back on really strong, right?"

"You can always take off that pretty lab coat, let us see that cute skirt of yours."

Fuck.

You were going to kill him. Or jump his bones. Or both. You turned your attention back to the plants, and you could feel both siblings' eyes drilling on the sides of your head.

"Don't look at me right now," you whispered, more to Johnny than Sue. "It's distracting, seriously. Don't–"

"Wait–am I making you nervous?" he teased, squinting playfully. "You usually want to kick me out, what's up with you?"

"Nothing. Leave."

"Oh, now you want me out? You're being weird today."

"You're weird every day," you snapped.

He didn't seem to be bothered by your attitude, if anything it made him want to try harder to see how much he could get on your nerves. Satisfied with your flustered reaction, he decided to walk across the lab to grab something from the spot he'd initially been in, but thankfully, got distracted by the robot again.

Sue narrowed her eyes at you the whole time, before turning back to her tablet. "I'm pulling the preliminary scans. Something feels off."

Something was definitely off. You were practically vibrating. If Johnny got any closer again you were not going to be responsible for your actions.

You forced yourself to focus on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Ignore Johnny's stupid laugh and his stupid biceps as he played with herbie in the background.

"Oh no," Sue gasped, staring at her tablet, and your stomach dropped.

"What?" you whispered, trying to keep Johnny oblivious to it, stepping toward her. "What oh no?"

She turned the tablet just enough for you to read the highlighted results from batch 5B.

Pheromone compound found. Induces increased arousal in subjects, mental fixation on known desires, and irrational impulses toward selected partners. Triggered by sudden light and temperature changes. Potentially dangerous if not treated.

You blinked once. Then again.

"Did I just get hit with sex pollen?!" You whisper shouted. Sue just nodded, feeling sorry for you, at least her modified DNA kept her safe from it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

The heat. The way your skin was buzzing. The uncomfortable pressure building low in your stomach. And God help you, the way your brain couldn't stop fixating on Johnny Storm.

"What's with the whispering? Are you talking about me?" behind you, Johnny shouted from his spot, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

"Don't come over here!" You turned and pointed at him in panic. "We're ... working."

He raised both hands, amused and quite confused. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted the sour cream chips too–"

"Do not say cream right now!" you snapped, turning back to Sue like she was your lifeline. "Sue, get him out of here. Now."

"Why?"

"Because he's annoying, and I can't deal with that right now," you lied, straight in her face, because the reason you needed him gone was if he said one more thing about your skirt ...

"Right, okay." She nodded. After all, this wasn't the first time she needed to kick out Johnny for both of your sake's.

She stormed toward the other end of the lab, clapping her hands. "Johnny. Out. Now."

"What? Why?" he blinked, feigning hurt. "I was just ... HERBIE and I were having a bonding moment–"

"Out. We need to work in peace." She pointed to the door, glaring at him.

He raised his hands in surrender, but that smug grin never left his face.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, damn. Don't miss me too much." He winked as he walked backwards out the door. "But if you do, you know where to find–"

The door hissed shut on his face. You groaned, leaning against the counter.

"Sex pollen lasts around twelve hours. At least, as far as I know. But if it doesn't get solved, what happens?"

"Well..." she hesitated.

"Sue?"

"Your nervous system could crash. You're not just... horny, you're chemically overwhelmed. Your dopamine's probably through the roof. If it gets worse, you could faint. Or ...worse."

"Worse? Oh my god," you gulped. "So I just ... die?”

"It will only feel like that."

"Only? Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Don't panic!"

"Don't tell me not to panic!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," she apologized, scrolling through the information again. "Listen, the data says it gives you fixation on selected partners, so that's probably who you're being drawn to right now. You could get them to, you know ...help you."

You froze. No. It can't be happening. Not like this.

"You do have someone in mind, right?" She glanced up from her tablet, questioning.

You didn't answer. Her eyes narrowed.

"Wait ... who is it?"

No answer, again. But Sue Storm didn't need you to say it. All she had to do was study your state. Dilated pupils, the slight tremble of your hands, not being able to stay still. And the way all of that seemed to have gotten worse when her brother walked in the room.

Her jaw dropped with realization. "No," she said horrified, gaze drifting to the door.

"Yes," you whispered, mortified, hands covering your face from embarrassment. "It's not my fault! Everything he does makes me wanna–"

"Ew! Stop–stop talking!" She made a gagging motion. "Gross, that's my baby brother!"

"I know! Do you think I wanted this?" You groaned into your hands, and she sighed dramatically.

"I'm going to find Reed, he might be able to create a suppressant or something. But listen to me, this stuff can escalate fast, especially if you don't get any release. So maybe just... maybe just call him, okay?"

"What?" You stared at her in horror.

"Only if it gets worse! I'm not saying do anything, don't tell me if you do ... actually I don't want to know anything about it ever," she scowled, walking backwards to the door, making HERBIE follow her.

"Sue–"

"Bye! Good luck! Don't die!" And with a last apologetic smile, she was gone.

You were so fucked.

Not literally, unfortunately.

There was no one here to stop you from spiraling now. No one to distract you. Just the echo of Johnny's stupid laugh in your head and the phantom trace of his hand all over the lab's equipment.

You've been around him all week. He was always touching things, sometimes just to piss Sue off. Flicking paperclips while saying you looked pretty. Tapping those fingers of his on every damn surface before someone kicked him out.

Why were you so fixated on his hands?

"Known desires." Pft. As if. You groaned softly, pressing your thighs together like that was going to help.

It didn't.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you whispered to the empty lab, remembering what Sue told you about calling ... him.

Don't you dare. It's just fake heat. He's not yours. You can't call him because you're desperate.

You sat on the edge of your stool and gripped the edge of the counter, trying to stay grounded. Trying to breathe. Constantly shifting your hips against the leather in hopes of relief. It didn't help. Nothing helped.

Your body was screaming for him. Only for him.

Maybe you could relieve yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped your free hand under the waistband of the skirt, gasping when your shaky fingers fumbled against your dripping folds. You gripped the table harder, nails hurting against the hard countertop, as the fingers inside you moved erratically.

Maybe if you just pretended it was him ...

He was all you could think about after all. The way his voice went lower when he said your name, the restraint he showed around you keeping his hands to himself, or the times he watched you from the corner of the lab, sat on a stool, legs spread wide in those unfairly tight pants waiting for you to sit on them.

Oh, Johnny.

What would you do to have him ask 'Where does it hurt?' and then kiss it better. To have him all over you. Touching you. Whispering something hot and stupid while his mouth kissed down your stomach. The way his hands would feel, how his warm grip would hold your thighs open and–

No.

Fantasies weren't enough. Your fingers weren't enough. It was getting worse, actually, the tension building up in your body made it more painful.

"Come on, this is not happening," you yanked your hand back, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat. "I'm not gonna sit here and finger myself over Johnny Storm like a lunatic."

You covered your face with both hands, groaning. You were dripping. Actually dripping. And no matter what you tried, it just made you want him more.

Twelve hours. You had twelve hours of this.

Unless ...

No.

The moment you saw him again you'd explode from shame and arousal at the same time.

You inevitably glanced over the watch on your wrist. The one Johnny himself synced to his, so you could instantly patch through no matter where he was in the world.

But right now, your salvation was probably no further than three floors down.

You knew he would come the second you called. God, he'd come running. He'd probably make a joke out of it. ‘What, you miss me that bad?’ and then he'd see it in your face.

The need. The desperation. The lack of self control.

And maybe, just maybe ... he'd understand.

"Please... I don't know what else to do, " your hesitant finger slowly reached the small screen, and hovered over Johnny Storm's name.

His contact picture made you press it instantly.

The device beeped only once, and then his voice came through.

"Miss me already?" His voice was light, amused. "Or did Sue set the lab on fire? ... see this is why I should always be there."

Your whole body twitched, relief and panic crashed over you in one brutal wave. He was joking. Of course he was. You could picture the smile in his voice, that stupid glint in his eyes.

It calmed you, only for a second. Like his voice was water in the middle of a dessert.

"Johnny... I need you here. Right now," you blurted, trying your best not to sound like you were dying.

He paused for a moment, and then his heavy footsteps echoed through the call.

"I'm coming," he said immediately, no hesitation, no further questions asked. The comm went silent.

Okay now what? There's no turning back, he's gonna be here. He's actually gonna be here.

You began pacing again. You couldn't think straight, and the heat was getting worse. Because now your brain painted images of him.

Johnny storming into the lab, hair tousled from how fast he walked there, with that smug smile and probably a damn stupid comment.

And you'll have to look him in the eye and tell him why you called. Tell him you were burning. That nothing helped. That you needed him or you would die.

How the fuck do you say that out loud?

'Hi Johnny, so I inhaled a plant's weird space pollen and now I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't rail me on this table?'

You shook your head. Forced yourself to straighten up. Smoothed your skirt, your blouse. Fingers shaking through your hair. If you could just act normal, or look normal, maybe you could buy time. Maybe Sue would come back before anything happened.

Maybe you wouldn't fall apart the second he looked at you.

But before you could control your breathing, the door slid open. And in walked Johnny, with that maddening, stupidly beautiful smirk already on his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, stepping inside. "Locked up alone in the lab, calling me back here in a hushed voice... you naughty thing. Couldn't even last an hour without me?"

You didn't move, taking in how much stronger his scent was now. He tilted his head at you, mischief lighting up his eyes as he strutted forward.

"So what, you finally decided I was irresistible? Wanted a private show?" He wiggled his fingers, letting small flames come to life. "Because I do take requests, you know. Fireman, sexy lab assistant–"

"Johnny," you snapped, voice cracking.

Something shifted in your posture then, like all the heat finally caught up with you. You backed away, pressing your hands flat against the cold edge of the counter like it could anchor you. Your breathing got more erratic, and your knees actually buckled before you forced yourself upright again.

Johnny's playful expression changed.

"Hey, hey–" he instantly crossed the space between you, reaching out to hold you but stopped when you flinched away from him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

You shook your head, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Just a helpless sound, a frustrated whimper. Johnny took a cautious step closer, still without touching you.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" His voice softened, laced with worry.

Sweetheart?

Your ovaries screamed.

"Johnny, something is wrong ... really wrong with me," you whispered, finally turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

He frowned, worried. His gaze scanned you, the way you could barely hold yourself upright but refused to let him hold you. So his eyes drifted to the table to find a possible reason, landing on the lit tablet, the screen still displaying the information.

"Johnny wait–"

Before you could stop him, he picked it up and scrolled through the content, eyes going wide. He paused, stared and read the entry again. And again. His mouth opened, trying to get a joke out of it, but the shock wouldn't let him.

"...it's pollen," he finally said, voice cracking like a boy hitting puberty again. "Sex pollen? You got hit with horny powder."

"Don't call it that," you groaned, covering your face with your hands from embarrassment.

Johnny looked down at your flushed skin, the sweat glistening on your collarbone, the way you couldn't even stand still anymore, and all of it clicked.

Holy shit. It was fucking sex pollen. He'd read about it before, but never thought he would have it in front of him.

That you would have it in front of him.

"Wait," he blurted, staring back at the tablet. "Wait wait wait–"

You peeked through your fingers, just in time to see him re reading the entry. His eyes went wide, in a mixture of surprise and something else.

"Known desires... selected partners," he mumbled the words, and then, he looked up at you with impossibly hopeful eyes and a grin on his face, “Me?"

You didn't answer him right away, you couldn't. You were sure this was the moment you fainted.

"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "Sue left and I ... God, Johnny, I tried to fight it, I swear. But I couldn't think, and you were the only one I–"

"Hey," Johnny cut you softly, slowly closing the distance, your bodies barely grazing together. "Look at me."

You didn't.

"Come on," he coaxed, just a little softer. "You're okay. I got you."

Your eyes lifted to his, and the heat behind them made your stomach twist. He wasn't smirking anymore. No teasing, just him, present and very aware of what he was causing on you.

You hated that it only made things worse.

"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "I can't think. I can't breathe."

He stared at you for a moment, hesitant.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, genuinely. His hands were still on his sides, like his restraint was a question you could still say no to.

"God, I don't even know what I need," You let out a shaky laugh, half delirious, half desperate.

"Sure you do," he said quietly, like it was the easiest answer in the world. "You called me."

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out. So you nodded, because you did.

And then, just like that, his hand finally reached to your waist. Just his warm hand, barely even getting there, but your body snapped like he just sent electricity through your whole body.

You gasped, stumbling back, nearly knocking over the stool. Johnny quickly steadied you with both hands now, eyes wide.

"Okay, okay–that sensitive?" he chuckled breathlessly, like he still couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. "Not that I'm complaining, but usually when I flirt with you, you roll your eyes and then you kick me out."

But you weren't rolling your eyes now. Not yet, at least.

"Yeah I'm just ..." you mumbled, breathless. Skin burning with the feeling of his hands on your waist, warm even through your clothes, staring up at him like he hung the stars. "I feel like I'm burning alive and you're the only one who can put it out."

For the first time in his life, Johnny didn't know what to say back.

It's not like his fantasy of having you spread over the lab counter was starting to become a reality. Only if you said it. If you wanted him to.

God, if you really asked him he would please you in any way possible.

"Johnny..." you whined to get his attention. Your pupils were blown wide, lashes fluttering, eyes glassy with unshed tears you couldn't stop at this point. "It hurts, do–do something ... anything."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I said I got you–"

His hands cupped your face, impossibly warm against your already overheated skin. You leaned into them like you needed it, like you've been starved of touch for hours.

His touch.

And you stared at him, he was beautiful and hot and close, and your whole body leaned forward like a magnet. Like it knew it needed him. Because all you could see was him.

The concern in his eyes. The way his thumbs traced your cheekbones so gently. The way he was so close and still not close enough.

You reached out with shaking fingers and grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him toward you until your chests collided, until all you could feel was his toned body on yours.

You exhaled like you just found oxygen.

He stumbled forward, instinctively wrapping his arms around your back, pressing you tighter to him.

"...You're serious," he whispered, lost in the way you seemed to be devouring him with your eyes. "You're really not okay."

You nodded, fists clenching in his jacket.

And without even thinking about it, you rubbed against him. Your body moved slowly, needy. Instinctively.

It was just a subtle graze, your hips grinding against his body for friction, for anything. And for the first time in the day you felt some kind of relief.

"Shit, baby," he cursed under his breath, almost groaning.

You made a soft, broken sound in your throat at the friction, at the way his thigh brushed yours, at the warmth of his skin through his clothes, at the scent of him everywhere.

Johnny choked on his own breath. He tightened his grip for a moment, just enough to keep you from moving further. You whined, at this point completely lost in the haze, but he kept you firmly in place.

"Sweetheart..." he started softly. "If we do this–if you really want this, I'm not walking away from you afterward. I'm not pretending this didn't happen."

"Me neither," you answered, a little too rushed.

But you meant it. You were tired of pretending him strutting into the lab wasn't your favorite part of the day. Tired of pretending you didn't want him.

"Please Johnny," you begged, hands moving to play with his hair, "I want you. All of you, today and everyday."

He looked stunned for a second, that 'please' shattering every bit of restraint he had left . He'd been wanting you since day one.

"That's my girl," his hands cradled your face with such devastating tenderness, making you forget the chaos in your blood, the desperation clawing under your skin.

And then, in a sudden move, he spun you around, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head. He bent over your frame, tilting your body backwards, like being swept into a cliche movie kiss, and crashed his lips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as one of your feet left the ground, with your weight safe in his arms, and clenched your fists on his hair. He kissed you hungry, reverent, like this was the moment he'd been waiting his whole damn life for.

You clung to his body like oxygen, letting yourself get lost in the smoke, in the devastating warmth of his body, in the way his tongue dominated over yours. He groaned over your lips, like he could taste your urgency. Until none of you could breathe anymore.

"That's how you do a first kiss," he mumbled against your lips, breathless and still maddening cocky.

You pressed your forehead to his, panting, dizzy, holding on to him like he was the only thing keeping you alive.

"Now show me how you do me."

Yeah, you were going to be the death of Johnny Storm.

That was enough for him. He pulled you upright, spinning you to lift you over the counter. He kissed you again, rougher this time, and with one arm knocked over what was on the counter so you would have more space.

Metal tools clashed loudly against the floor, plant samples tilted over, dirt spilling on the ground, and something definitely shattered.

"Shit," he laughed into your lips. "Sue's gonna kill me."

"Don't care," you panted, tugging on his jacket so he could get rid of it.

"Eager, are we?" he smirked, but complied in taking it off, taking a step back to throw it across the room.

Your eyes raked through his body, biting your lip at the way that white shirt cling to this toned chest.

He placed himself between your legs again, palms laying on your skin, and started drumming his fingers absentmindedly. Like he didn't know exactly what he was doing to you. Like the casual tap of each warm fingertip against your thigh wasn't setting your whole body on fire.

Your breath shuddered watching his hands.

And he noticed. Of course he did, his mouth curled into the softest, filthiest smile.

"Wait..." he said, mischief behind his eyes. "Hold on. Is it my hands? Is that what's doing it for you?

You swallowed hard, heart pumping in your chest. Your eyes darted to his fingers again, the ones teasing your skin a bit harder now. The ones you've thought about way too many times, in way too many ways.

His smirk grew when you didn't answer. He already knew.

Johnny's hand lifted behind your neck, coaxing your head back just enough so you were forced to meet his eyes, almost glowing golden fire with lust. The other trailed upward, knuckles brushing your chin before tracing the curve of your lips.

"Let me see that pretty mouth," he mumbled, and when your lips parted, he pushed two fingers inside, slow and steady.

You whimpered, pleading, eyes rolling back from tasting him. He just stared at you like he'd never seen anything hotter in his life.

"That's it... get them wet for you," Johnny breathed, thumb brushing your cheek as he watched you suck on them like a lifeline. "God, you're so hot."

He pulled his fingers free, glistening, and grinned like the absolute menace he was.

"Open your thighs for me."

You did, immediately, like your body belonged to ever command he made.

He slid his hand inside your skirt, the same one you just had in your mouth, reaching for your panties. You gasped when he finally touched you over the fabric, his fingers pressing between your legs, dragging slow and warm and perfect against your soaked underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed. "Didn't even need it, you were already this wet for me, huh?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "I need you ... please,” the plea fell from your lips in a whisper. “Johnny … save me.”

Now he was staring at you like you hung the stars. Like having you wet, pleading, begging him to be your hero was a kink he never knew he had.

"Shit. Honey... I got you" he leaned in, like he couldn't get any closer. "I got you. I haven't even–fuck, I haven't even really started."

He slid your underwear aside and finally dipped his fingers into you, slow and gentle and so good you whimpered into his shoulder.

"There she is," he cooed. "God, you're so wet. So soft."

You clung to him, nails curling against the back of his neck. He groaned, obsessed with how desperate you were for him. You could barely breathe anymore, his slow pace was maddening, like he wanted to savor every reaction, every sound you made.

"So tight," he praised, kissing down your neck. "You feel so fucking good. You like that, baby?"

You moaned, a complete mess on top of that counter, and he grinned against your skin.

"Yeah you do. Look at you. Already a mess for me."

His other hand cradled your head again, keeping you close, anchoring you to him as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, curling just right, his thumb starting to circle your clit, It was too much. But not enough.

"You were thinking about this, weren't you?" he teased, hot breath against your neck. "You wanted my fingers in you. Couldn't stop thinking about it."

He was right. He knows he was right.

"Don't worry," he groaned, licking a slow stripe along your throat. "They're all yours."

Every filthy sound of his wet fingers inside you, every whimper you made went straight to his bloodstream.

You were praying his name, over and over, until you fell apart on his hand, moaning, gasping, shaking, he kissed you through it, humming against your lips.

"That's it. Just like that, pretty girl. I got you."

You were breathless, clinging to him, and he didn't stop curling his fingers to feel how your walls clenched around him. He held you there, watching you come undone with pure adoration in his eyes, his free hand cupping your cheek, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Because even after wrecking you he was devastatingly tender.

"God, I could watch you fall apart all night," he cursed, watching your chest raise violently at your first release of the night.

He watched stunned, it was like he was bringing you back to life.

And it felt like that. Your body yearned for more, but before you could speak again, he pulled his fingers out, brought two to his mouth, slow and deliberate, sucking your wetness off them like he'd been starving for it. He groaned, like you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Your mouth parted, speechless, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean, and then slid those same fingers back inside you.

You gasped, back arching as he pumped a few more times, watching your body clench around him. Like he wanted more. Like you were his favorite experiment now.

"Here, you can have some too," he smirked, pulling them out and slipping them into your open mouth.

You moaned around his fingers, lashes fluttering, and Johnny swore nothing had ever wrecked him more than the sight of you, on top the counter, flushed and trembling, eyes wide and glassy, staring at him while you tasted yourself off his fingers.

"So good, isn't it?" He pulled his fingers from your mouth, but let his thumb drag over your bottom lip, pressing it down to see the way your pretty mouth stayed open for him, spreading some of your own cum.

Not a single sane thought left in your head. You needed him now more than ever.

"Johnny."

"Yes, babe?"

"Fuck me. Fuck me right now."

Something shifted behind his eyes. The smirk stayed, but there was a new weight to it now, dark, focused, possessive.

"You want me to save you?" he asked softly. His hand trailed down from your lip, past your throat, down your covered chest, your breasts, until it pressed flat against your stomach.

He slid you closer to the edge of the counter with a grunt, and you gasped when you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, pressing against your core through his pants.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he breathed against your lips, dragging his mouth down to your neck, sucking a mark just beneath your ear. "All spread out for me."

"You can have me, you can have all of me.”

"Yeah?" His lips curled into a smile against your throat. "You want it slow, baby, or do you want it how you begged for it?"

"Please, Johnny ..."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and gleaming.. "You don't have to beg anymore."

He slid his shirt off with ease, showing off his chiseled golden body. His pants were next, hitting the floor in a quiet thud, and your shaky hands yanked his boxers down. His throbbing cock sprung up free, swollen, showing you how much your desperation had him painfully rock hard.

You had to fight every part of your being to not push him down and jump on his dick until you passed out from exhaustion. But before you could, he was already bunching up your skirt. You lifted your hips to slide it down, but he chuckled, pushing you down.

"No, no. The skirt stays on," he licked his lips. "Been dreaming about this for a while."

You gasped when he placed his tip on your entrance with one hand, giving it a few slaps like he was savoring every single second. And so were you.

He slid in slowly, inch by inch, mouth open against your shoulder, and he moaned. Johnny fucking Storm moaned. Because it was you. Because it was better than any dream he'd ever had. Better than he even imagined.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel so good–you're perfect, baby. You're perfect."

You cried out as he bottomed out, clinging to him, nails digging on his bare back, and he smiled, like he was trying to memorize every sound you made.

"That's it, let me hear you," he panted, slamming in so he could hear you yelp. "You sound so fucking good, baby. Look how you take me."

You buried your face in his neck, trembling as your legs lifted to wrap around his waist. To try and get him to go deeper.

"You've been driving me crazy for months," he grunted, slamming in again. "All those times you rolled your eyes at me? You have no idea what I was thinking."

It didn't take him longer to fuck into you, hard, immediately hitting that spot. You were already a moaning mess, fingers digging into his shoulders. With both hands he grabbed your blouse, and pulled to rip the fabric, snapping the buttons open. Next was your bra, like he finally decided he needed to see your skin bouncing with every thrust.

"I've wanted you ... needed you" he breathed, diving in to get lost in your chest. "For so long..."

And he showed you how much. With the way he sucked your nipples. With the way his hips snapped forward to make you gasp. With the way his hands roamed all over your body. Or the way he groaned into your neck as he pushed himself balls deep into your soaked pussy.

"Fuck– Johnny," you panted, head dropping back, "you're so big ... feels so good."

"Yeah?" he smirked against your skin, "too much already?"

"Never," you shook your head. "Harder, Johnny. Fuck me harder."

Yeah, this was definitely better than any fantasy he's ever had.

He smiled, god he smiled. Looking devilishly sweet while wrecking your entire body. Completely undoing you.

He picked up the pace, driving into you just right, hands gripping your hips like he owned them. Every thrust knocked another moan from your lips, and every moan made him laugh softly, like he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be inside you like this.

Your breath started getting shorter, nails digging deeper into his skin, and he felt the way your body was crashing under him.

"C'mon, sweetheart, I got you. Let go for me. Let me feel you." He groaned, and that was it.

You fell apart in his arms for the second time with a cry, pulsing around him, and Johnny just lost it. He kissed you hard, hips stuttering as he came inside you with a low, broken groan. His cum filled you deep. So warm, warmer than anybody's ever was.

And it drove you insane.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your body arching to meet his, and Johnny leaned back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning your flushed face, your swollen lips, the blissed out haze in your eyes.

"You're beautiful like this," he said, running his thumb softly over your skin. "You know that? Fucking stunning. Never letting you go."

Now it's you smiling, dazed, lost in his eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're everything Johnny," you whispered, your hands cradling his face. "You're so good to me."

He smiled, then leaned forward, catching your lips in a soft kiss. Your mouths moved like they knew each other. Like they belonged. And god he was a good kisser, but the pollen in your body made you crave for more.

You didn't mean to lunge, but the next thing you knew was you surged forward. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, holding your waist, your body landing on top of him as his back touched the floor.

Johnny was still panting from his high, from the kiss, and now he was sprawled out on the floor, chest rising and falling in aftershocks when you climbed closed to his face.

He looked up at you, stunned for a second, then grinned.

"You're not done with me yet, huh?" he placed both hands behind his head, biceps flexing. "Okay, don't let me stop you."

You grinned, kissing down his jaw, over his throat, his collarbone, your hands dragging down his toned chest like you needed to feel every inch of him again. His skin hot, like always, matching the fire rolling under your skin now. Your hips rolled instinctively against his thigh and he groaned, head tipping back.

"Shit–" he hissed, eyes squeezing shut. "Baby, gimme a second to –"

"I can't," you pouted, breath hot against his skin. "It's still burning ... I need more of you, Johnny."

"Oh... well," he said, lips curling into a crooked smile, "when you put it like that–"

You kissed him before he could finish, grinding down against him with reckless need, and he groaned, his hands flying to your hips.

"Okay, okay, fuck–" he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your body moved against his. "You're not just using me for my stamina, are you?"

"Maybe a little," you chucked against his mouth, and he laughed.

"Fair enough."

"It just ... it still hurts."

"I know," he muttered. "I know, sweetheart. Let me help, yeah?"

He propped himself up with his elbows, one hand on your back as he flipped you over and placed you gently on the floor.

"Let me take care of you, just relax for me," he whispered, pressing his hands to open your thighs again. "I wanna taste you first ... Gotta get my strength back somehow, right?"

He slid down your body slowly, kissing his way across your ribs, your hips, trailing open mouthed heat everywhere until his face was between your thighs. His hands cradled them, thumbs sweeping over your skin like you were something precious. Like he couldn't believe the way you whimpered when he was marking every inch of your skin.

"I know, sweetheart," he cooed, voice so soft, mouth ghosting over your skin. "I know you're sensitive. Just let me make it better."

He draped your legs over his shoulders like they belonged there, kissing up your inner thighs, tongue teasing so slowly you could cry. And when he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss right where you needed it...

You shattered again.

"Johnny–"

You arched into him and he groaned like he was the one coming apart.

"You taste so good, baby," he praised as he began licking loudly. "So sweet ... fuck– I've wanted this for so long..."

His tongue moved swiftly, unrelenting and deliberate, while his hands pinned your hips down. You were a writhing mess, overstimulated and dripping for him, but still moaned his name over and over.

It wasn't just pleasure, every paint of his tongue was relief. Like he was cooling the fever from the inside out.

"That's what you needed, huh? All worked up and no one to help you ... what kind of man would I be if I left my girl like that?"

His girl.

"Johnny ... Please don't stop."

"I won't," he promised, smiling against your wetness. "Not until you feel safe again."

And he meant it. His lips worked you open, his tongue tracing lazy circles and long, aching strokes until you were gasping and crying out, trembling so hard your vision blurred.

He moaned against you like he was addicted. His nose brushed your clit with every pass, and it was torture, sweet, unbearable, perfect torture.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging him closer, desperate, and he loved it, humming low as he flicked his tongue faster, coaxing another release from you, watching you fall apart all over again.

He blinked up at you, dazed and stunned and so fucking gone for you. "You're gonna kill me," he said, completely in awe. "What did I do to deserve this?"

You, spread in front of him, barely able to breathe anymore.

Body begging for more.

He was ready for another round in no time.

You weren't sure how many rounds you ended up doing. Or how many places you begged him to fuck you on. All you remembered was begging 'one more time', "please Johnny, another one", "Johnny just one more".

It was never 'just one more'. You completely drained him after many hours, until the itch was finally gone.

Not that Johnny ever complained. If anything, he had fulfilled all of his known desires on his preferred partner too.

Thank god for sex pollen.

You weren't sure how long you were out, your body gave in before your brain could catch up. The ache between your legs was evident but warm, the weight of Johnny's love still lingering on your skin. You woke up slowly, your cheek resting against a very toned chest, the faint scent of sweat and smoke clinging to him like a memory.

The lab was dark, save for the soft flickering light pulsing from a single, familiar source.

Johnny.

He was still beneath you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other lazily raised. At the tip of his finger, a small flame danced, gentle, hot, nothing like the infernos he usually conjured. Just enough to light his face in amber glow.

You blinked up at him.

He wasn't looking at you, not at first. Just drawing slow circles on your back with his thumb, eyes were distant. Thoughtful.

Then he felt you stir.

"Hey," he rasped, smiling down at you.

You swallowed hard, everything flooded back. The lab. The counter. The floor. Your hands in his hair, your name on his tongue, the way he held you like you were made for him.

And now... this.

Quiet. Intimate. Real.

"Sorry," you whispered, still sprawled half on top of him. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

He chuckled softly, his chest shaking under you.

"After everything that happened that's the last thing you should be apologizing for, sweetheart," he teased, lowering the flame a little. "Besides, it's not the worst way I've ever spent a night in the lab. I love having a very satisfied hot girl passed out on my chest."

You laughed softly, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. But something made you doubt for a second.

'After everything that happened, that's the last thing you should be apologizing for.'

Guilt washed over you. The goddamn pollen.

"Johnny... earlier... I didn't mean–"

"Wait don't," he stopped you gently, sitting up a bit so he could see your face better. "Don't say you didn't mean it."

His expression shifted, firelight dancing in his eyes, but something in him doubted too. Like maybe it was the pollen after all.

That couldn't be farther from the truth.

"No, no that's not what I meant," you immediately corrected, and sighed. "I didn't mean to make you feel used, or... like I didn't care."

His gaze softened a little.

"You didn't," he mumbled, still holding his breath in case you sent him to hell after this.

You inhaled slowly, and everything you'd been holding back just tumbled out.

"What I said earlier... that you're everything? It wasn't just the serum talking," you confessed. "You are, Johnny. I mean it."

His whole expression cracked open, surprised, glowing, like someone just handed him his heart back.

"Damn," he said softly, lips curling into a grin. "You're really gonna say that to me while I'm naked and emotionally compromised?"

You laughed, burying your face in his neck.

"Shut up," you mumbled, but you were smiling too.

He pulled you closer, his free hand trailing over your spine.

"Nah, too late," he grinned. "You're into me. Can't take it back now."

"Ugh, why did I say anything."

"Because you love me. Or at the very least, my hands."

You groaned. He laughed again, delighted, confident, soft. He lifted the flame again and watched the orange glow reflect on your skin.

"So what now?" you whispered.

"Now?" He shrugged. "You keep laying here. I keep lighting up the room. We do this again when you're not on a heat spiral."

"Johnny–"

"What?" he smirked. "You like my fingers, admit it."

You shook your head, "I wasn't that into them."

"No, no, don't even try to downplay it now," he accused, all smug. "You weren't just into my hands. You were like ... obsessed with them."

You groaned and buried your face in his chest like that would protect you from the embarrassment clawing up your throat.

"Johnny–"

"No, seriously," he continued with mock innocence. "I've never seen someone stare at my fingers like that. You were practically drooling. I thought I was gonna have to get a towel."

"Stooop," you whined, voice muffled, your whole body heating up again, and not from the pollen this time.

He laughed, wicked and loving all at once.

"But hey," he said, turning serious in the most unserious way, "you can have them now, you know. Anytime you need them."

"Yeah?" you asked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "What about now?"

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[greenbench]

Update: Okay, uh, I did NOT expect so many people wanting this. Thank you, everyone, for voting. Part one is already in the works, but I'm still deciding if it's going to be two long-shots or an actual series. Let me know what you guys think, and I'll update you with a snippet soon. :P

Okay, would anyone be interested in a fic where Adrian is absolutely enamored by reader that was Scarecrow's sidekick of sorts but has since reformed. But said reader was on the suicide mission with Chris and witnessed him killing Rick Flag, so they lowkey despise his ass. When they learn that Chris isn't actually dead, they are like AVID on avenging Rick or smth. Then Adrian is torn between his total dream girl and the fact that she is hell-bent on destroying Chris, his best friend. If he even notices that reader hates Chris.

[greenbench]

Okay, would anyone be interested in a fic where Adrian is absolutely enamored by reader that was Scarecrow's sidekick of sorts but has since reformed. But said reader was on the suicide mission with Chris and witnessed him killing Rick Flag, so they lowkey despise his ass. When they learn that Chris isn't actually dead, they are like AVID on avenging Rick or smth. Then Adrian is torn between his total dream girl and the fact that she is hell-bent on destroying Chris, his best friend. If he even notices that reader hates Chris.

[greenbench]

Idk why but I keep thinking about Peter Maximoff again. 🫣

Currently thinking about Peter running up to his crush and saying “Meep Meep” (like roadrunner) and then running away.

[greenbench]

I feel like 99% of Adrian Chase fanfic I’ve read it’s established that his family is dead ASF!!! Like that’s so universally agreed upon. Or the fact that Adrian has his own apartment LMFAOOOOO ya’ll are def writing the “better reality” version of him😭😭turns out his mama alive AND he lives with her #NewPeacemakerTrailer

[greenbench]

ego death - robert 'bob' reynolds x reader

months after bob disappeared, he was on her television. he was here. in new york. months after they both suffered ego deaths and she didn't really know who she was anymore.

word count: 13.7k

post divider

read on ao3

cw: mentions and descriptions of drug addiction, grief, derealisation; friends to strangers to a secret third thing. trying to make bob as accurate as i possibly can but probs failing. rushed ending :/ reader uses she/her pronouns and no use of Y/N.

a/n: lol so i have not written anything since the pandemic (yikes). this could possibly be the worst thing ever and i perhaps may never write again after this but i watched thunderbolts a while ago and it unlocked something deep within myself that said i must venture back into writing so here we are. this was fully inspired by jensen mcrae's 'my ego dies at the end' so please listen (amongst other songs; i might make a playlist who knows). anyways, enjoy and please be nice.

If she had seen it at the time she should have known that he had suffered an ego death. But now she’s looking at him on her TV with the New Avengers. He’s wearing those corduroy trousers she bought him months before he disappeared without a word. She thought he was dead. 

Then, there were many times she thought he was dead. Like that one time she finally allowed herself to leave that dingy apartment they shared and venture out into the world with her college friends. The “world” meaning some run down bar with a pool table and a measly dart board with so many holes in it the darts stopped sticking. Her friends pulled her into some rowdy game of pool with these random men (at least ten to fifteen years older than them) and somehow got stuck listening to how John is going through his second divorce and he was only 42. She’d left the bar in a fit of giggles with her friends, laughing at each of their feeble attempts to try and get them to sleep with them (each of them had a wedding ring they tried to sneak off their fingers). The memory would almost make her smile if she had not returned home to find Bob, relapsing on their bathroom floor. 

It always tended to go this way. He’d get better, for a while. Then he would disappear. Not physically, but within himself. He’d hear a song, or someone would call him Bobby and a few days later she’d find him on the side of a road or in their bathroom. She didn’t know how tired she was until he left that day. 

She couldn’t ever be sick of it, she wasn’t sick of it. Or at least she tried to convince herself of that a long time ago.  

He was so still she didn’t know if he was breathing or not and it terrified her that she wasn’t sure she was willing to check. 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

It came out so weak she almost didn’t hear it. 

‘It’s okay. I’m home now,’ she whispered and she began to slowly make her way down to him on the cool tile. He was so pale and so cold, yet so warm at the same time. A furnace in the middle of winter and a cool blast of the AC in the summer. 

She had tried so many times to pull him out. She didn’t think she could change him, per se. But she definitely thought she could prove to him that the way she cared for him, the way she saw him for every piece of him could be enough to show him that he should and could feel the same way about himself. Then he wouldn’t need it. Then he wouldn’t have to hide. Then that darkness that would descend over his face, his hands, his body when he felt a storm brewing inside would dissipate. 

She knew it was not that easy and she knew that some people thought she was just having delusions of grandeur. But they weren’t delusions of grandeur to her when she’d known him so long. When she got to selfishly hold him when he was like this knowing she’d never get to hold him any other way. 

A delusion of grandeur would be believing that Robert Reynolds loved her back. Wanting Robert Reynolds to get better was not a delusion of grandeur, it was simply hope. 

And there he was, on her screen. Looking healthy. His smile was still as crooked as ever and it reached his eyes this time. And his hair. It looked so soft. She wanted to reach through the screen and run her hands through it one last time. He looked almost peaceful. What on earth was her Bob doing with the New Avengers? 

She had no idea where he went. She had resigned herself to the fact that he was probably dead. He had relapsed again and he wasn’t coming back. She mourned him. She kept having this dream that she was at some random college party she went to as a freshman and he was in the corner. She would soon learn that he was always in a corner somewhere. Hiding as if he never wanted to be found. Observing like he could pick everyone apart in the room with just a glance. 

Your worst nightmares don’t tend to come true. But she woke up that day and he was simply gone as if he wasn’t even there before. As if he had not caused a shift in her cosmos. 

She’d see his face and she’d wake up. She knew it was only a matter of a few hours before she would be back in bed, having the same dream again. When he left, when he died, she changed everything she could to try and rid her body of the feeling of him. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She left Florida. She couldn’t go home to her family - she’d left for a reason. She tried so hard to be so many things for everyone else and for Bob, she was just her and she just gave and gave and it never felt as though that resource of help for him would ever cease. It just kept flowing and flowing and then it had nowhere to go so she left. 

She gave the notice on the lease. She thought about moving to Nashville. She thought about moving to Boston. They’d talked about Boston once. But she settled on New York. Something fast, something unknowable about the vast skyline of buildings, a void she could get lost in. It was one she was hoping she’d never come out of. She didn’t want to be a corporate sell out but she at least put her pre-Law major to use. She could read and read until the words blurred on the page but at least, here, in New York, she wasn’t turning corners and seeing his face. 

So why on earth does it feel like he’s in her living room? 

She shut it off, letting the static of the screen burn her hand. So she mourned for nothing? So she cut her hair, changed all but her name and he’s still the same Bob. With his hands covered by his sleeves and those damn corduroy trousers she had to convince him that he’d grow to like while he mumbled something about mustard ‘not being his colour.’ 

That thought almost made her smile. 

And he’s in New York. Of course he’s in New York. 

She fell in love with him the minute she made eye contact with him. It was freshman year. It was oppressively hot. She wasn’t used to it yet - the short skirts, the tank tops and manicured nails and hair. She was begging her body not to run back to the comfort of the climate of her hometown. She left for a reason. So at this random frat party her roommate had dragged her to, she saw him. Looking around the room vacantly for some reason to stay when she caught his gaze her body was shocked back to life. He didn’t seem like he belonged here. He seemed like he belonged beside her, in her, with her. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to single him out like that but in a crowd full of college boys wearing the same polo neck tops and khaki shorts, he was different. The minute he gave her that shy smile of his she was a goner. 

‘So I guess you also don’t come to parties that much, huh?’ His voice was low, cautious. It sent lightning bolts straight to her stomach. 

‘No,’ she swallowed the lump in her throat, willing her hands to stop shaking. ‘I just moved here. For college. Pre-law.’ 

‘Cool, cool.’ 

A beat of silence passes between them. 

‘Oh, oh well I know a few of the guys here. I don’t go to college. I dropped out of high school. I know these guys from middle school’ 

She hummed. ‘Well, nice that you guys stayed in touch.’ 

‘Nah, they just keep around for…’ he trailed off. 

Oh. Oh. He’s the pot dealer, she thought. 

Some remix of some classic noughties pop song came on and that familiar yells and chants of drunken college kids surrounded them. 

‘I’m Bob,’ he smiled, ‘by the way.’ She smiled and gave him her name. 

She couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the lights but could have sworn his eyes lit up at just knowing her name. 

‘It’s really nice to meet you, Bob.’ She was being sincere, she could tell he didn’t think so. She reached out to touch his arm. ‘Do you know anywhere around here that we could just…talk somewhere else?’ He nodded quickly. 

From that moment on, they were inseparable. At the beginning, all she knew about Bob was that he could talk for hours about books and music and film and, underneath it all, she knew he was someone with such empathy and compassion he’d go so far. She did feel like she had to play a game of chess to find out how he was feeling. He would just recede into himself when he would go to visit his Mom. She never really asked why. She told him everything that night they met. She still wonders if it was the kindness in his eyes that made her tell him why she’d never go home or if it was the universe tying them together. Some cosmic event that she would spend many, many years trying to recover from. 

The first night she knew it wasn’t just pot, he had told her everything. And she felt guilty. So guilty. He was overwhelmed, he didn’t know what he was doing and he forgot that he told her. And so she held onto all of it. Every single little aspect and room of his mind that he told her. He sat on her bedroom floor - so out of it, so manic - and just talked and talked. Until his eyes started to close and they didn’t open til the next night. 

She’d witnessed every second of the heights he’d reach and the rock bottoms he’d crash to on her bedroom floor. He lost his job and his apartment. She would tell people they rented together but he would blow most of that rent money on drugs. It never angered her. She knew why but she just couldn’t stop it. 

Her college friends stopped calling about a month before he left. Maybe it was apparent she wasn’t coping too well wondering if he’d come home alive or not. She’d been rejected from most law schools she’d applied for. And the ones she did get into didn’t offer enough financial aid for her to get through. So she willed for him to get better, get on his own two feet so she could try and do better for the both of them, together. 

Maybe subconsciously he knew she was starting to wane. She desperately tried to not let him know - not let him know that she was in love with him and that she was only keeping herself alive for him. 

It was a cliche she kept repeating to people - you don’t know him the way I do, you don’t understand him the way I do. Like when he was clean and they’d lie on the floor eating shitty takeaway pizza with cherry coke and watching terrible romcoms, there were times she was almost certain he felt the same way about her. When they would lie back laughing and for a moment it would still and his eyes would stare into hers and she could see the cogs turning, the flicker of his eyes down to her lips and lightning would strike in her stomach. Then he would turn, stare at the ceiling and he wasn’t there anymore. Like he had thought too much and he was just gone. The moment was gone but so was he. She wasn’t even sure he lived in any of the discomfort or in any of the comfort she tried so hard to give him. 

No matter if it wasn’t enough, no matter if she couldn’t give anymore than she wanted - he was enough. He was all she wanted. When he would wrap his arms around her after a long shift and she’d let her think for a split second the domesticity wasn’t a lie and she’d picture his hands fiddling with the ends of her t-shirt, getting ready to lift it off and take care of her the way he did in her dreams. 

It takes the soft whine of her dog to pull her out of her reverie. She fills his bowls up, one with kibble and one with water. She sets them down and then she sits down, beside her favourite companion and watches as he scarves up his food like he was  starved. She knows it's going to be a long night; a long night of reminiscing, remembering and trying to forget how it felt to be held by Bob, kissed by Bob, touched by Bob. All before he disappeared. 

‘Do you ever think-’ 

‘Of course, I think, Bob. I’m a thinker by nature, a yearner by heart.’ 

He laughs. It stops abruptly. His posture is straight. She can tell he’s being serious. 

‘Do you ever think about us?’ 

The six words suck the air straight out of her lungs and right out into the muggy Florida night. 

‘W-what do you mean?’ 

‘I mean…’, he pauses as if he’s weighing up if he should really be saying any of this out loud, ‘do you ever think about that party? Because I do. I think about when you asked if we could leave and all I could think about was wanting to kiss you. But then it didn’t seem as if you wanted to do that. So I didn’t. And I think about what it would be like, now I mean, if I had just had the balls to do it. But then I kept ruining it all. I can see so much of myself so much more clearly when you’re here and I can see none of myself clearly when you’re sitting so close to me. It’s like I could just stop forever and the thought of it could be enough but it’d kill me.’ 

She didn’t think, she just did. So she kissed him. It was like the day they met was what she always thought it was, a cosmic event. Leading to this one moment where she’d feel his lips against hers, the slight swipe at her bottom lip with his tongue and she knew that somewhere in amongst the cosmos this moment was written, it was destined. 

She cannot let herself get swept up in the storm of him anymore, she promised herself. But as she feels the warmth of her dog, Charlie, beside her in bed, as the AC whirls and the blinds gently slap against the window, she lets herself have just one more night of reliving that moment when he touched her before the alarm screeches at 6:30am and she knows, he is gone. He was gone before that moment, she knows that now. And the girl she was then withered and died along with the two seasons that had passed between them. 

Her typical routine distracts her for a moment. Her usual morning walk in the same park along the same route gets her thinking less about the blue eyes she dreams and more about how still a city can be this early in the morning. The subway is the same as always. The monotonous walk into the office remains the same and the vacant smiles she gives her colleagues in the break room will never change. They don’t know her. Maybe she doesn’t even know herself now. 

It's not as though life in the city has been lonely. She has friends. She met them through this guy she briefly dated when she moved to the city. That was a meager attempt to move on. But they had their own shit going on and none of them needed to know about her addiction to an addict, one was so much more than just that. 

She had to stop thinking about how he was in the city. She had to let go of the urge to march five blocks away to Tony Stark’s old tower and beg, on her hands and knees, beg to see him. She turned on her screen, typed in her password and resolved that this was the last time she was ever going to think about Bob Reynolds. 

-

She was being followed. She could feel it. 

She changed her and Charlie’s route. She started walking to work, she even risked a bike. She started going to the gym before work, on her lunch break. She stopped going to Pilates with Aubrey on a Sunday and convinced her to go on a Tuesday instead ‘just in case they wanted to have a drink on a Saturday night’ - they never did. 

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she figured it out but she knew it had to have been about a month after that random black out in New York and Bob appearing on the news. She didn’t dwell on the Bob of it all. She tried to nestle into her podcasts, books and endless playlists of music she could never share with him. If she was deluded, she would think that it was the guy who works at the desk in her office building, with his vacant stare that followed her through the lobby of the building right to the elevators. But she wouldn’t really think that some prepubescent looking, college-aged kid was able to somehow follow every single thing she did. If she was even more deluded, she would think it was Bob. Whilst he was skilled at observing, he wasn’t entirely skilled at being the most secluded in a room. Or maybe he just stuck out like a sore thumb to her. He shone from every corner of a room they were ever in together. 

Somehow, she still knew she was being followed. Maybe it was the months of observing everyone else instead of herself that taught her the signs. In looking for him everywhere and in everyone, she’d grown quite attuned to understanding and following everyone else's movements. 

She’d agreed to go out tonight. She could put the mask on of who she was before Bob for a while. For the sake of Natalie’s birthday and the kindness she’d shown her when she first moved to the city. At work, she tried to busy herself with the thoughts of what she was wearing, what she was going to eat before she left and whether it was appropriate for her to have a drink before she left. 

She knew she needed to leave the house, also. Walking Charlie, going to the gym and grocery shopping could not be classed as social interactions if she spent most of that time with her head down and her headphones in. Avoiding everyone and anyone that could possibly meet her eyeline and give her that sad, pitying look when they see someone who just looks lost walking down the aisles. 

She’s too young to have lost the love of her life, she thinks. Then she brushes the thought aside and tries to pull on those too-tight-jeans she loved in college and a top that lets her pretend she’s someone new. Someone who doesn’t need Bob Reynolds. 

She knew she was being followed the minute she stepped out of her apartment building into the heat of the night. If it was her from before she would be scared, now she’s apathetic to the many scenarios which would have run through her head before. She shakes the feeling of eyes on her and keeps going until she’s on the subway, she’s in the club, she’s unaware of how many drinks she’s in until she’s stumbling outside and waiting for an uber. And that’s when she finally sees her. The eyes that have been on her all week. 

Her cobalt blue eyeliner catches on the streetlights. A perfectly groomed pixie cut lies on her head. And she smiles like a cat who just caught her prey. If she was sober, she would have avoided all eye contact, looked straight at her phone and tried to pay no mind to the very pretty assassin who was stalking across lanes of traffic to reach her. Instead, she held her eye. This is what apathy is - to look death in the eye and not to fear it, not to hide from it but to welcome it with open arms. 

But now she’s alone. Now, she’s face to face with imminent death and all she can think about is that she never told him how she felt. Feels. 

‘You know Bob.’ 

It’s said matter of factly. An Eastern European accent with an emphasis on the ‘ub’ of his name. 

Suddenly, the several vodka sodas have evaporated from her body. 

‘Yes. I do.’ 

A beat of silence. 

‘Well, I did.’ There is a weight to her words that she can see Yelena recognises, some emotion she can’t quite place rippling in her opponents eyes. 

‘Whether you do or did doesn’t matter to me.’ It’s cold. It cuts her right in between her ribs. 

‘So what does matter to you?’

A flicker of amusement passes through her eyes. Yelena Belova finds her funny, she thinks. Was it really that funny or have the seven vodka sodas re-entered her body? 

‘I’ve been watching you.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘Oh, you know. How did you know?’ 

‘I just do.’ 

‘Okay so you’re as off putting as Bob when he wants to be.’ 

‘He’s not off putting.’ Something about calling Bob off-putting irks her, even though she knows he can be difficult when he wants to be. He was an addict. The highly functioning ones, which at times Bob was not, can be both charming and off-putting at the exact same time. 

‘What is he to you then?’ 

‘What do you want from me?’ She checks her phone. ‘My Uber is five minutes away and I need to get back to my dog.’ 

‘Charlie, yes.’ Yelena nods. 

‘You have followed me here. You know my dog’s name. You probably know what desk I sit at work. You definitely know that I don’t usually leave my home other than to go to work, walk my dog, get my groceries,’ she takes a breath, ‘Why me?’ There’s nothing aggressive about her tone, she’s just tired. She is trying to avoid how much Yelena may or may not know about her. She’s trying to avoid how kind-of-not-sober she is. 

‘You know Bob.’ 

‘That explains absolutely nothing. Thank you for such clarity.’ 

She barks out a laugh. ‘You’re funny, I like you.’ 

‘I don’t know you.’ 

‘I’m a…friend of Bob’s.’ 

With the hesitation in Yelena’s voice, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. She feels a knife twist in her heart and get pulled out. Bob’s mere existence in New York with the New Avengers makes a lot more sense once Yelena is standing in front of her and she says ‘friend’ so softly, so gently she understands that now there is someone else. Someone else who sees the kindness in Bob. And then she knows she has to let go. 

She begs Yelena with her eyes to let her go. She feels them well up with tears. She can blame the alcohol tomorrow. She watches a black Hyundai pull up. She feels like she’s drowning in headlights and vodka sodas and there’s a headache forming right at her temple. 

‘Please, I-’ she stops herself. ‘I have to get home. I can’t leave Charlie any longer.’ 

She walks over to the car, gives her name to the driver and when he nods she opens the door. She looks back just once. Maybe in the hopes Yelena will offer her something else that won’t make her feel as though her gut has been twisted inside out. 

‘I will find you again, you know that.’ 

She nods. She can’t stop her and the alcohol running through her veins stops any objection slipping through her lips. Yelena disappears into the night and, despite her better judgment, she looks forward to the next time she sees her again. 

–

‘I didn’t think you’d knock.’ 

‘You think little of me.’ 

Yelena is at her front door. She’s holding Charlie back with one hand, knowing if she let him go that Yelena would become his best friend. 

‘Well, I thought you’d use the fire escape. I left the window open for a reason.’ 

‘I wondered if you were too warm.’ 

She hums in response. ‘Are you coming in or not?’ It’s curt, it’s less-than-friendly but not cold. 

‘Wow. What a warm reception. Not at all how Bob described you.’ 

She tries to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. 

‘Your apartment is nice,’ she can tell Yelena is zero-ing in on the photo of Bob and her cello-taped to the fridge. 

A picture from a happier time. Her head is on his shoulder, his smile is brighter than the sun and he was clean and he was happy. She was happy. She knew who she was then and he knew who he was too. Before the ego deaths, before the two of them became ghosts to each other. 

‘Why are you here, Yelena?’ 

‘Bob.’

‘I know that but why? After all this time.’ This time she can feel the cracks in her resolve slipping and she’s scrambling to disguise the anger, the grief behind her words. 

There’s a lingering sadness in Yelena’s eyes when she asks. Like she knows everything and nothing at the same time. Like she has observed her life enough to know that she barely remembers how to make small talk, like she doesn’t know she is without the person who knew her the best. 

Yelena clears her throat and she knows she’s about to hear something she doesn’t want to hear. ‘Do you remember when New York went into a bit of a black out?’ 

She nods. Where was she going with this?

‘Well, that was Bob.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Do you know where Bob went after he left?’ 

She has to stop herself from vomiting over the small linen carpet she has that separates her kitchenette and the small couch she’s standing beside. 

‘No.’ Her voice is shaky. She straightens her spine to stop her knees from going out from underneath her. 

‘I’m not sure I- I really need to hear this. I don’t think I’m ready to know anything.’ She’s panicking. She’s being dragged further underwater. She feels herself leave her own body and she’s watching from above. 

Yelena nods. 

‘Are you sure?’

‘Is he okay?’ She feels so timid asking.

The silence that passes between them nearly kills her. She can feel her heart giving way. 

‘Please.’ It comes out so quietly she doesn’t even hear it herself. 

‘If you are not ready to know then I can’t answer that without you knowing everything else.’ 

‘That seems unfair, I-’ 

‘I know it seems unfair. But I see you. You’re not even trying to live. The only time I have seen you smile is at your dog. You don’t smile at strangers. You don’t even look before you cross the road. You exist as though there is not a soul out there who cares about you.I know you want to know why I followed you but the first time it was just to let him know you were alive. After that… Well it became a lot more about keeping you alive than telling Bob you were out there.’ 

‘I-’ 

‘I’m not finished. Bob is a lot of things. One thing he is not is ready to face a world without you in it.’ 

She lets it sit in the air between them, she lets it sting her between her ribs and she doesn’t try to fight the feeling anymore. She doesn’t try to fight the way he has wormed his way into everything and everyone that she is and has been. 

So she lets it all go. 

‘I won’t try and wax poetic about Bob,’ she starts, ‘but if he’s safe, that’s all I need to know. He left me and everything behind for a reason. Sometimes I begin to understand why he did.’ The air between them is solemn. She never wanted to admit that she is beginning to see why he left her - maybe she suffocated him, maybe she didn’t give him enough room to grow without her, maybe she treated him too much like a child instead of the man she was hopelessly in love with. 

‘I only met Bob a short time ago but I can tell he cares very much about you. You were the first thing he asked me about after… well, you know.’ 

Oh. Oh. 

‘W-what did he say?’

‘Not much.’ She pauses. She looks as though she’s holding back. Approaching with some trepidation, ‘Do you want to know what happened to Bob?’ 

Yes, she does. And her mouth betrays her before she can say no. She doesn’t know how long it takes Yelena to tell her about how Bob was shot a ridiculous amount of times in the abdomen, survived, started flying and is now some kind of hybrid God-man-Void that pulled people into rooms of their trauma and he doesn’t remember any of it. How this happened to him.

‘Who did this to him?’ 

‘Well,’ Yelena hesitates, ‘it was a program called the Sentry Project. Valentina ran it. Most of the other test subjects were killed.’ 

‘So, he went to Malaysia on a suicide mission?’ Her skin feels like it’s on fire. Her dog licks her hand as if he knows what she’s thinking. 

‘Well, not exactly. I don’t think any of them knew what they were signing up for. Just a drug trial that would help them get better. Bob wanted to get better.’ For you, were the only two words Yelena never said out loud. 

She can’t wrap her head around why he would leave her for this. Without telling her what it was. And where did he even get the money to go to Malaysia? She should be angry. She should cry for him. For herself. But she can’t. Even now, she’s holding the flood water back behind a dam she doesn’t want Yelena to see. But something in the way her emotions are running through her veins she knows Yelena can see right through her. 

‘Look,’ Yelena calculates her next sentence, ‘I can’t answer why he did it. Only he can do that. You will only get the answer you want if you meet with him.’ 

She finally looks at Yelena straight in the eye. Maybe it’s okay to let the dam burst, she’d been holding on for so long. 

‘What makes you think I would ever want that? To see him again?’ 

Yelena grunts. 

‘I only know what I’ve seen. You have no pictures of anyone other than Bob in your apartment. You spend all your time with a dog. The first time I saw you interact with anyone was yesterday and even then you looked as though you’d rather be anywhere else. Have it your way. Don’t see him if that’s what you want.’ 

She doesn’t want to ask but she does it anyway. 

‘Has he even asked to see me?’ 

The answer is soul crushing. 

‘No.’

‘Then why are you here if he doesn’t want me there?’  She feels herself go underwater again, all that grief bubbling up to the surface. 

‘Like I said, Bob wanted to know if you were alive. I checked for him. But I came back to keep you alive. We don’t know what would happen if…’ 

‘If he knew this is how you’re living your life, he would be crushed. He does not need any more reasons…’ She sighs, ‘He doesn’t need a reason to be consumed by the Void again. I don’t know what happened between you and Bob. I followed you because I care about him. And I followed you because I can see it in your eyes that you’re ready to give in and that would just about seal Bob’s fate. I don’t want that.’ Her eyes snap up to meet Yelena’s. ‘And you don’t want that either.’ 

She looks back down at her feet. She cannot meet Yelena’s eye. She cannot yield that she’s given up. The right toe of her sock has a hole in it. Maybe if she kept staring at it, she would wake up and this would all be some kind of morbid dream that never happened and she’d back in the muggy heat of Florida in that sweaty frat house and they could start over. But the longer she stared at that hole in her sock, nothing changed. 

‘I think-’ she weighs it all up ‘I think you should leave.’ 

Yelena takes two steps back. Charlie goes to follow her. Hunching down, reaching her hand out to pet the top of Charlie's head, she gives Charlie a pat. She tries to smile at the wag of his tail but her lips don’t, won’t curl upwards.

Yelena stands. She places her hand on her shoulder. 

‘If this is what you want, I won’t come here again. But if you want to see him, you can call me.’ She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a scrap bit of paper with a number on it. 

‘Don’t wait too long. This is my tenth burner phone.’ 

Her brows furrow. 

‘Don’t ask.’ She barks out a laugh in response. She hadn’t heard herself laugh in…well, months. 

And she’s gone. As quietly as Yelena had entered her life weeks ago, she exited it with ease. She had seen her more clearly than she had seen herself in weeks. And it unwound something in her. 

She took Charlie for his walk. Ditched her headphones this time. Listened to the people. Looked at the skyline. Did everything she would have done before any of this had ever happened. 

When it was quiet. When the sun had finally set and the only thing between her body and the noise in her brain was the soft hum of the AC she took it all in. Everything Yelena had said. All the feelings she had been shutting out for weeks, for months. 

She didn’t want to be a WebMD warrior, or a google search nurse for herself. But she’d settled upon her own ego death. She’d never gotten high, except those few occasions she was passed a blunt in college or when she’d take an edible with Bob after a few beers. She thought that you could only achieve ego death through psychedelics. That’s not strictly true. 

But she lost the girl that she was, the one that she knew. That he knew. Somewhere along the way she lost the thread. 

Something had to change. Something had to give way and it should not have been her sense of self. Yet, here she was standing in front of a mirror wondering when her cheeks became so sunken in and her eyes so hollow. She finally saw for herself what the rest of the world must have been seeing for the last god-only-knows how many months and she knew it had to change. 

It had to change. It had to change. It had to change. 

She slept through the night and her dreams were only filled with the hope that she would see him again. And this time, she promised to herself they would be happy. 

‘I honestly did not think you’d call.’ 

She had to smile. She hadn’t even said hello. She was growing fond of Yelena Belova. 

‘I thought about it.’ 

‘I guess you did, huh.’ 

‘How does this work? How can I see him?’ 

‘Well, not immediately.’ Disappointment rings in her ears. Sensing this Yelena continues, ‘He’s been placed in decompression. He’s been there for the last month and a half after… well, y’know.’ She did know, she’d spent all morning reading about it on her phone. 

‘So, he’s locked up in a cell?’ 

‘No, no. Not a cell. He’s in a safe room where he can be monitored. He hasn’t started training yet-’ 

‘Training?!’ They were going to weaponize him?

‘Training to control his powers, yes. So I am a little hesitant to bring you to him when we don’t know what kind of effect you’re going to have on him.’ 

‘I doubt little.’ 

The way Yelena says her name makes her feel like she’s a little girl in trouble in school again. ‘You have a severe hand in Bob’s mood. He’s only started to mention you and when he does he gets all love-sick. It's disgusting and then he remembers how he left and he just…’ 

‘Disappears?’ 

‘Yes, yes. He disappears. We cannot risk the void again.’ 

‘So then what can I do? You’ve told me he’s alive, he’s somewhat well in a decompression room and now you’re saying you’re not even sure if I can see him?’ She avoids the ‘lovesick’ comment. It’s just Bob, she thinks, his eyes always make him seem as though he holds a candle to anything. 

‘There is one thing we can try.’ 

‘Which is?’ 

‘I sneak you into the tower. We go to his room and you don’t leave until you’ve kissed and made up, capsish?’ 

‘Yelena. That’s not us, we were friends.’ 

‘If you were just friends, why do you both insist on downplaying the very obvious codependency thing you’ve got going on. I’m here as his friend, not a matchmaker. I want Bob to be better as much as you do. We just have to think about this.’ 

‘And you didn’t think about this before-’ 

‘Before I stalked you across the city and showed up at your front door, no. I didn’t think you’d call so soon.’

She sighs. ‘I’m calling now.’ She hesitates, ‘I miss him.’ I miss him. I need him. I want him. I love him. So many other ways of expressing how much she cares for him. 

She can hear Yelena shifting around through the phone. 

‘I know you do. He misses you too.’ Yelena is trying to be kind. The admission hangs in the space between them - almost as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world to Yelena, and the least obvious to her. 

‘Yelena,’ It comes out as though she is pleading with her, ‘How can I possibly see him if there’s a high chance I could send him back to a place he doesn’t deserve to be in?’ The thought shudders through her. That same sickening feeling she felt when she saw him on the news rises through her veins. 

‘I understand where you are coming from. But we have to try. If not for you, why not for him? The team and I can only help him so much and the others don’t really know what to do with him. Bucky has tried to get through to him,’ The Winter Soldier is his friend? ‘I know somewhere within you knows he didn’t abandon you-’ 

‘He did, Yelena. I cannot trust that he wants this. Especially when it sounds as though he’s not ready.’ 

‘No one is ever ready to face the past. But if we don’t face it we get stuck in it, and we keep going round and round in circles - never truly owning up to whatever skeletons we have in our closet. They will come back to haunt us again and again. That’s what loneliness is. Those are the things that drive us to push away the ones we love - can you not see that maybe what Bob needs - what Bob desires - is to make things right?’ 

It sounds like him. It is him. All she’d ever known for those years they spent with their souls tangled together - never their limbs - was that Bob wanted to protect. He wanted to fight, he was just held back by that voice in his head that told him that he couldn’t, that he wasn’t strong enough. There was a voice within him that just never ceased. A voice which beat him down to a pulp. To a point where we continually left her for the plains of a high. And he left her for the thing that led him to this.

‘I want to see him,’ she heard a sigh of relief through the receiver, ‘but only if it’s on his terms. I am not bombarding him now. I need time to forgive him. I need time to forgive myself.’ She looked at her face in the hallway mirror, she was run-down. Her own voice in her head that told her that she wasn’t good enough - of course he left you, all you ever did wasn’t enough - had led her to wander the world as a ghost of herself. In abandoning herself, she abandoned him. 

Even though they weren’t face to face, she could feel Yelena’s disappointment. ‘Okay, I respect your decision. I understand it. I will try and talk to him but I can’t promise you that he’ll come around.’ 

‘It’s okay, Yelena. He might not need me now.’ 

‘He will always need you. I can tell.’ 

‘If that’s the case then, he can choose to see me when he wants. When he’s able.’ 

‘Alright.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

‘I don’t know why you are thanking me.’ 

She couldn’t explain it to her. She didn’t have the words. Charlie whimpered at his feet. She looked out the window and all she saw was sun. 

‘Yelena, I need to take Charlie out for a walk.’ 

‘Okay then. I will call you when he’s ready.’ The line went dead. 

For the first time, in a long time, the wounds of the past were still open but they were healing. Yelena was right. She’d spent so long with her back against a closet door, holding up all the skeletons she was hiding inside of it. There was really only one skeleton in that metaphorical closet - Bob. 

So she let herself remember and she tried her very best to choose not to forget. Because he had his reasons to go - she knew him. He wasn’t selfish. It wasn’t selfish. He didn’t choose what happened to him. None of us do. She didn’t choose to fall in love with him. All of him. Not just when he was clean, not just in the good moments. She knew he didn’t want to. She knew he couldn’t help and, by God, he had tried to help it. 

But you can also choose to not give in to the voices. She’d let them consume her for so long now that she didn’t even know herself. Now she just had to start following the thread which had gotten loose for so long until she came back to herself, until she knew herself the way she used to. The way he used to. 

She looks at the photo taped on her fridge, knowing that he will come get her when he’s ready but she’s not going to wait for that day to complete her. Attaching the leash to Charlie’s teal collar, she opens her door and knows that somehow this walk will be different than the rest. Instead of blocking it all out, she forces herself to remember everything the way it happened when it happened to her. 

Like when he’d decided that he wanted a dog. Or when they’d resolved to move to Boston because their AC broke and the heat was unbearable and they thought that they’d prefer the chill of a Boston spring than the swamp heat of Southern Florida. Or the night they’d kissed. A night she’d prefer to save for the latter hours of the day, when it’s dark and cold and there is no one but her and her pillow (and Charlie) to see and hear her cries. Today, she remembers waking up with the hope he’d felt the same, that it wasn’t just a drugged up decision he’d made. She lets that be born anew. She remembers that he stopped replying to her texts that day when he’d disappeared an hour before she’d woken up. She remembers going to the police station, begging them to file a missing persons report three days later and being told We don’t file for druggies, darling. 

She chooses a different path than they’d usually take. She texted Aubrey asking if she wanted to go for a walk. She has a feeling she can trust her. Maybe not with the whole the guy-I’ve-been-in-love-with-since-forever-is-now-kind of a demigod thing but she could always twist the truth. And that’s what she did. 

‘So he just left and now he’s back?’ 

She nods. 

Aubrey waits for her to say something, anything before continuing, ‘And it’s not even him it’s his friend doing this for him?’ She’s calculating something in her head. ‘For so long you’ve been so closed off. At first Natalie and I just thought that you were just like that, you didn’t have much to say other than the funny things Charlie did or which Pilates instructor you liked best or how busy you were in-work.’ 

‘I get why you’d be guarded after all of this.’ Aubrey sighs. ‘Do you still love him after all of this? Is it even worth it? Forgiving him?’ 

She gets it - if her friend of a couple of months told her that the will-they-won’t-they, love of her life, addict came back into her life via Yelena Belova (she told Aubrey she was his friend from rehab) she would also think it wasn’t worth the struggle or the pain or that she shouldn’t still love him but when it was her… Well, that was different.’ 

‘I don’t want to fall into the “he’s different” trap, Aubrey. But he is. He’s special. In those moments and stretches of time when he was clean, that friendship we had was something I didn’t want and don’t want to ruin. I fell in love with him the minute he opened his mouth and the second he gave me his jacket and he was wearing this old, ratty Star Wars shirt and he looked so excited to talk about all his favourite things about it.’ 

She takes a breath. 

‘When my brother died,’ she begins, eyeing up Aubrey to see if it was okay to continue, ‘Bob was the only person in the world I felt I could tell. I don’t ever want to go home. I haven’t seen my parents since I left for college when I was eighteen. Bob is the only person who understood why I never looked back and he’s the only person who hasn’t judged me for it or made me feel insignificant.’ 

‘When I flunked an important class in college, he stayed up late every night coming up to my re-take final to help me study. He brought me coffees and cooked me dinner. He let me cry on his shoulder when boys broke my spirit. They never broke the heart I gave away a long time ago to him. He made me laugh. Every day. I never wanted to shy away from his coping mechanisms, nor could I judge him for it. But that’s his story to tell.’ 

After a while, Aubrey smiles. ‘Being understood by someone, being known is the most special feeling in the world. We can’t help where life takes us - sure, we can make it better if we can. I’m just really happy to see you looking like you belong-’ she corrects herself, ‘remembering that you belong here. When I first met you I knew you were lost. I just thought it was because you had just moved here, you didn’t know anyone. Now I know it’s because you lost both yourself and him when you left New York.’ 

‘Forgive him or don’t forgive him. Keep loving him or stop loving him. It’s all the same to me if you’re happy. I can’t say I fully trust this Bob guy but,’ Aubrey stops and turns to her, grabbing her hand, ‘we have all lost someone and we usually don’t get second chances to make things right or to even allow them to make things right. Make things right for yourself. I wish I’d made things right with this guy I’d met in college. Kind of similar to Bob and you but y’know, without the drugs.’ 

This was the most she’d ever known about Aubrey other than her desire to retire at 40. 

‘He was so gentle and so shy. But could also cut you down when he needed to. I suppose we were similar in that way. I never knew love before him. I lost him a couple of years ago. That’s why I moved here - I couldn’t deal with the pitying looks and the sorry’s, I just didn’t want to be known anymore. When I met Ben, that changed. Because he saw me and he knew me and he took me for what I was - someone very broken - and he gave me a second chance at love but not with the person I truly, at that time, wanted the second chance with.’ 

They’d looped back around to Aubrey’s apartment building. 

‘I can’t stop you from taking back or going back to someone who might hurt you again but I like to believe that the universe gives us back what we want and sometimes, it’s even better the second time around.’ 

She smiles at her. She feels so much lighter now that someone knows, that someone who might not even understand how she stuck by him for so long but understands that second chances can be a good thing at the right time. 

‘Thanks, Aubrey. I really appreciate this, I hope I didn’t put too much on you.’ 

Aubrey lightly bats her arm. ‘Don’t be silly! I really like this you. The one that actually tells people things.’ She laughs, properly laughs. ‘Don’t be a stranger girl, my door and shoulder are always open. We should do this more often!’ 

‘We should.’ It’s sincere. She asks her to finally grab a drink on Saturday and on her way home texts Natalie for her to join too. Something she never really ever had, people she could rely on for fun and for comfort.

On her walk home she saw the city open up toward her. All along everything she needed had been right in front of her face to get her out of this mess. Yelena had given her a hand to stand on her own two feet, now she just had to keep going. 

–

It had been weeks since she’d last heard from Yelena. She felt better, she felt more fresh. Yet, she stopped herself every time she went to call Yelena’s number. Partly because that number was probably long gone to the once-assassin, now-Avenger. Partly because she had accepted that he might not want to see her, and for once she was somewhat okay with that. Partly because she knew Yelena had been watching over her, she’d felt that. 

She’d asked Natalie to look after Charlie tonight. She had some work fundraiser event she was being forced to go to for office morale and networking. Something about weapons assistance. She wasn’t really paying attention in the meeting. 

Before she would have done anything to get out of going to something like this, preferring to be hiding from the rest of the world at home with a book and with Charlie and with thoughts about Bob, his hand in hers, his lips on hers. Now, she still would prefer to stay in but she doesn’t feel consumed by the what ifs and whereabouts she used to wallow in. Now, it is more about living rather than just merely surviving. 

‘Thanks so much for looking after him, Nat. I promise he’ll be such a good boy.’ 

Natalie laughs, ‘It’s no problem really. You need to let your hair down girl, have some fun with those.. Corporate bros?’ 

The two share a look and laugh. 

‘Hmmm, I don’t know if coked up politicians and finance bros are my idea of fun but if it gets me a promotion in work I’ll go for it.’ 

Natalie gives her a soft smile and ushers her towards the door. ‘I’m glad to see you coming out of your shell more. You look incredible! Now go, leave me and Charlie in peace!’ 

She walks out of the door with a quick goodbye to Natalie, a rub behind the ears for Charlie and she has to face the long night ahead. This particular summer in New York was a hot one, that kind of muggy, claustrophobic heat that radiated between the buildings. She started noticing the seasons a bit more since she’d talked with Yelena. Noticing how she didn’t mind the rain but hated the wind, especially when it would catch her coming out of the subway. She didn’t mind the heat, it reminded her of happier times in Florida with him and those memories didn’t come with the usual sting they used to carry. Sure, it was hard to remember him, remember that he was alive and that she grieved him as though she was dead. But something in the encounters with Yelena almost gave her permission to stop dwelling within the grief. She didn’t think she had missed much, but finding friendship and finding herself again in the last few weeks has made her realise what she had missed. None of this means that she doesn’t miss him. 

And what they had. 

If he was here right now, he’d unabashedly tell her that no one deserved her but he would stutter out a compliment. She’d blush. Their hands would trail beside each other, never entwining but each brush of their fingers would send lightning into her abdomen. But he’s not here and maybe he wouldn’t say those things. She would, if she was brave enough. If she was brave enough then she would have told him how much she loved it when he would squint his eyes while he talked or how she found how he moved completely mesmerising. If she was brave enough now, maybe she wouldn’t still jump every time her phone rang or buzzed with a new message. 

But there was some semblance of peace building within her. 

She didn’t have to walk very far before she was at the gala, greeting her higher-ups and marvelling at the opulence of this whole evening. Glasses of champagne and canapes were shoved into their faces by young waiters at the door, their coats were taken immediately from them and a ticketed number, probably from some raffle ticket book, was shoved into her purse, beside her lipstick and wallet. The lights were overwhelming from the chandeliers above. She wondered how she was going to stand all night in these heels. Regretting her choice of footwear, she follows the partners further into the room and gets passed around like a monkey to perform for prospective new clients. 

It's so loud she almost can’t hear the sneer jokes they make; she laughs along anyways. She feels the hush fall over the room when Valentina Allegra de Fontaine makes her way to the podium. She commands so much power over one room, filled with a lot of men who think they’re more powerful than her. 

‘Tonight, we are here to celebrate the wonderful advancements we have made in weapons assistance across the globe. The United States is beginning to cement itself as the most powerful weapons producers in the world, surpassing all other nations.’ Valentina begins. There’s something conniving in the way she holds herself. Manipulation written in her eyes. 

Valentine drones on about different weapons she doesn’t quite understand, their efficacy rates and how they’ve been used globally. She can see the sea of nods and looks of approval on so many peoples faces. Something she could never understand is the desire to brutalise others with just the click of a button but surviving can be a dirty game. 

She’s tuned out once she had the thought of sacrificing her morals. She guessed her apathy started when he left. She went into law to do good, help the people who needed it…not this. 

‘As the world changes, humans change. We may have forgotten our own strength, our own ability to fight. With the Avengers gone, a new group takes their place. We must remember the ability to create our own weapons of destruction. Esteemed guests, I’d like to properly introduce you to The New Avengers.’ 

Her heart almost stops. She definitely knows she’s stopped breathing. They’re standing in a row - starting with Bucky Barnes looking as though he’d desperately rather be anywhere else but here. She knew the feeling. Yelena and Ava looked checked out. Alexi and John take in all the attention and then there he is. He looks so small. But so healthy. So real. 

Did he dye his hair? Why does it look kind of blond? 

‘The others you know,’ Valentina starts as the applause dies down, ‘but I know you’ve been wondering who this is.’ She points to Bob. Her Bob. 

‘This is The Sentry. Our newest Superhero.’ 

Despite the rapturous applause that surrounded her, her entire world went completely silent. She felt like she was dreaming - one of those dreams where you’re falling and then you wake up. Except, she’s awake and her legs feel like they’re about to give way underneath her. The claps of others become the pounding of heart in her ears. She feels as though she’s in paralysis, she can’t move, she can’t breathe. This is how she sees him again after all this time? 

They’d turned Bob into a weapon? They’d sold him a lie? 

She felt her boss nudge her arm and give her a look. She began to clap because what else could she do. You always have to play along even if your entire world is crumbling all around you. 

He looked small. Like when he would bundle himself up in the corner of a room and just shrink himself down. But there was a glint in his eye, a glimmer that she caught which shone a bit differently. Like he liked the praise. He was only ever like that when he… oh.

He looked fuller, she thought. His arms filled his blazer out nicely, she could make out the swell of a bicep which definitely wasn’t there the last time she saw him. The last time she saw him, he barely fitted into the corduroys she bought him. And here he was, looking as beautiful as ever. She’d never seen him in a suit. Only in her dreams and even then she couldn’t quite picture him all dressed up. 

She tried so hard to keep her eyes off of him. She let her eyes drift to Yelena, only to find her stare already on her with her eyebrows slightly raised. Yelena’s eyes saying you’re here? And all she tries to convey back, helplessly in this silent conversation (confrontation?) is that she had no choice. She had no idea he would be here. 

Valentina went back to her speech, pontificating about the greatness of this new team. The words were drowned out by her anxiety. This was not how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on his terms. Not like this. Not when she felt so back into a corner. Circled by people who wanted to use him, use his mania as a tool of destruction.

She found solace in a small back corner of the room. Not that anything was small in a massive hall but somewhere where she wouldn’t be spotted by hawkeyed clients. She lied and said she was going to the bathroom but she knew Yelena would corner her in there, probably demand an explanation and her explanation would be that she didn’t listen properly in a work meeting because she was too busy imagining all the different scenarios in which she would finally see him again and agreed to go to this because she really needed that promotion in work because she had vet bills, and rent to pay, and now that she’d actually started to enjoy New York, she found she couldn’t afford New York. And the spiral continued like this. Over and over again. That this wasn’t right. She needed to leave but didn’t have a good enough excuse too; Charlie was being taken care of, she hadn’t eaten anything that could give her food poisoning because she wanted to fit into this stupid dress (which now she wanted nothing more than to rip it off her body, burn it and find somewhere to exorcised). So no excuses whatsoever. These people didn’t know her. She couldn’t say - see that guy. No, that guy. The Sentry? Yeah, he broke my heart because he disappeared months ago. I thought he was dead and now he’s here alive but he’s a superhero but also kind of not because he sent lower Manhattan into a dark void of trauma rooms a month or two ago. So I need to leave because he probably doesn’t want to see me, he hasn’t tried to see me and I’ve left it up to him and- 

‘Now we wouldn’t want you having a panic attack and making a scene here, would we?’ The lilt of Yelena’s Russian accent filtered into her ears. 

She shook her head. She didn’t know what to say. 

‘No, I suppose we wouldn’t.’ Her tone isn’t icy, it’s actually quite warm. ‘You look good. Healthy. I’m glad.’ 

‘You’ve seen me before now, Yelena.’ 

She snorts, ‘Yes I suppose I have. Maybe you should be the spy in the New Avengers; better observation skills than me.’ 

She smiles at her. ‘I don’t know how you guys do it. Their whims…’ 

Yelena frowns. It’s quiet but she hears it anyways over the loud roars in the room, ‘We don’t want to.’ 

She nods in understanding. No one is free from the control of others nowadays. 

‘Are you here for him?’ 

‘N-no,’ she can tell Yelena doesn’t believe her. ‘I swear I had no idea any of you were going to be here. I’m here with work.’ 

Yelena looks confused at her answer. 

‘You were asked to come? With your work?’ 

‘Well, it was decided for me. By my boss. I wasn’t really listening, all he said was that I was going. I don’t ask any questions.’ 

A slight smirk starts to form on Yelena’s face. ‘Your firm doesn’t specialise in weapons, though. Mainly commercial disputes? Unless my intel was incorrect.’ 

It’s still strange that Yelena knows so much about her and she knows nothing about her. She wouldn’t dare google her; afraid Yelena would show up and ask why she was interested and why she didn’t just ask her to her face. 

‘No, you were correct. Just… maybe we’re expanding?’ 

‘I doubt a firm which primarily deals with the selling of houses and property and wills is particularly interested in arms dealing, given your entire pro-bono practice is dedicated to helping victims of The Blip and the prevention of the wider impacts of Avengers missions in New York city.’ 

‘I didn’t think of it like that.’ She truly didn’t. She wasn’t that much interested in the firm when she applied, she just wanted to get by. Get through the torture which was losing Bob Reynolds. 

‘Hmm.’ Silence falls between the two women. She didn’t really know what to say to her - she seemed so sure of herself and so strong. Yelena Belova was a sight to behold. 

‘How are you feeling now?’ For someone so strong, the gentleness in Yelena’s tone shocked her. She wasn’t used to it. 

‘Fine.’ Yelena crossed her arms, unconvinced. ‘Okay, fine. I’m good.’ She meant it - she did feel good. The best she’d felt in a while. A long way off from how happy she was over a year ago with her feet on his lap and the AC blaring and some random wildlife documentary on in the background. They soothed him on his come downs and her when he’d laugh at the random animals. 

‘Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’ve seen it in you.’ 

‘You have?’ 

‘Yes - less like a ghost, more like a human being. Good for you.’ Yelena gives her a proper smile now. 

A confession is on the tip of her tongue - this is not how it was supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to be happy without him and he wasn’t supposed to be some show pony. This isn’t how I wanted to meet him again. This is all just wrong. 

Yelena places a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘He wanted you here. I asked for you to be here. We had to get John to ambush Valentina to put your firm on the guestlist which was less than easy I might add. Since I told him that I’d been following you…’ she pauses, glancing around the room as though he might hear, ‘well all he has done is ask how you are doing, why you left it up to him to call. I didn’t have the answers. When Valentina told us we would be here we spent hours trying to get your firm here.’ 

‘None of us wanted The Sentry or the Void here. We knew this could overwhelm him, we tried to stop it but he seemed so sure that this is what he wanted.’ 

‘You. Here.’ 

So it was on his terms after all. She felt no immediate relief. 

‘Why here?’ 

‘I don’t know, I cannot answer that because I don’t know myself - he wouldn’t tell me. Or any of us. All I know is that he cares for you - he hasn’t let you go. And neither you as I can see. So I guess, I’ll leave you both to it.’ 

That’s when she felt him standing there. Fuck, he still runs hot. The heat is radiating off of him as if he’s the sun. 

‘Hi.’ 

Suddenly she’s face to face with him. Fuck, why do you have to be so pretty. His eyes are so blue and his face carries less stress than it did before. The more time she takes to respond, she can see the hope dissipating out of his eyes and shoulders and his mouth has started to bend downwards. 

‘Hi.’ 

His mouth turns up into a gentle smile and all she can remember is their last night together before he disappeared. They had just moulded together, a soft swipe of his tongue on her bottom lip and she let him in. She’d never been kissed like that before. With such reverence as if she was the only thing that mattered. He had held her so gently as if she would shatter if he let go. They separated and said hi and the world shifted on its axis. 

The world has shifted on its axis again, right now. In the middle of New York, the Earth flipped upside down in the space between them. 

‘Yelena told you everything.’ 

‘Mmm.’ she nods, not willing to have her voice betray her. 

‘And you’re…okay?’ The question comes out with so much trepidation that thought of him being terrified of her nearly breaks her resolve.

‘Yelena said you were doing well.’ 

And the resolve is broken. 

‘You’ she points a finger into his surprisingly solid chest, ‘left. I-l thought you were dead. And you thought this place was the right place for me to see you again?’ It’s accusatory. She’s angry. She’s so angry the room feels like it's spinning. 

‘I-I didn’t mean for any of this’ he’s begging now. ‘I just want to explain it all. What I am now, what I was then.’ 

‘Bob.’ 

He’s spiralling now, almost as if she can see a dark mist descending over his body. 

‘I just wanted to fix it… For you.’ 

‘Fix what, Bob?’ She reaches for his hand and he pulls away as if he had been scalded by the brief grazing of their fingers. She starts taking a few steps back. This is exactly why it shouldn’t have happened like this. 

‘No-no, I just,’ he’s stumbling over all of his words, ‘I can’t touch you. I don’t want to trap you.’ 

The Void. Yelena had mentioned the trauma backrooms he sucked everyone into. She looks at him expectantly, trying to mask the absolute panic underneath her eyes. All she has wanted to do since he walked into this room was touch him. Make sure he was actually real. 

‘I wanted to fix me for you. You have to know all of this was you..’ Bob notices the fear in her eyes. ‘I didn’t know it was going to turn out like’ he gestures to himself and the room, ‘this. I thought it was a medical trial to help me, make me a better person. Someone worthy of you.’ 

She almost softened. Almost. 

‘So you left me - alone, not knowing whether you were alive or not - because you thought you didn’t deserve me?’ 

‘You didn’t deserve a mess. A recovering addict. An idiot. I’m still an idiot for doing that, I know that. The amount of times you took care of me and I didn’t take care of you. I just wanted to be whole for you - not someone who did everything he could to get high to run away from it all. I put so much on you and you never ever pushed back. I hated the thought of you shrinking yourself for me. I didn’t want you to be with someone like that. I was so aimless. I had no direction in life and the only direction I did have was you - I would have followed you anywhere and some selfish part of me knew you would have followed me anywhere. But that wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.’ 

‘I choose to follow you, Bob.’ 

‘Well, you shouldn’t have.’ 

That stung her right between her ribs. She could feel her eyes swelling up with tears. 

‘No-no, this is coming out all wrong. Please, please don’t cry.’ He steps towards her and she steps back. 

She’s so quiet now, she feels herself turn in on herself, all desires to return to her old way of life coming back. ‘Please, Bob. I can’t listen to this anymore.’ 

‘I choose you. I saw you from the beginning, I know you. We all have reasons to run away but running away because you thought you didn’t deserve me is the stupidest thing you've ever done.’ 

‘I am so stupidly in love with you and I just wanted to make myself right first. So I could be someone you would love back. Someone you could love who wasn’t addicted to drugs or-or someone who couldn’t hold his own.’ Every word is spilling out of Bob’s mouth like an avalanche he cannot stop. Maybe he doesn’t want to stop. The planet stops spinning and nothing else matters because he loves her. 

Her heart is aching at the thought that he left because he didn’t feel good enough for her. Something pulls her back into her body, where she is, what she’s supposed to be doing. He can feel his eyes searching and scanning her entire body for some reaction, something. She’s holding it all back. She’s aware of the wandering eyes on the two of them in the corner; they’re more exposed now. He’s more noticeable, especially here. 

‘Bob, do you know anywhere else where we could talk?’ 

The light in his eyes somewhat dims at the suggestion. Before he can even move to answer, she grabs his hands. ‘Nevermind. I know somewhere we can go.’ He doesn’t object as she pulls him towards the exit. With her free hand, she fumbles with her purse, pulling out her phone and texts her boss that she doesn’t feel well and she’s heading home. There’s probably a typo in that text but she doesn’t care. Her mind becomes one track, there’s only one direction she’s heading in and that’s home. With Bob. 

‘Where are we going?’ He sounds scared. The sounds of taxis and cars flying past, horns blaring almost drowns it out. The noise of the city hitting them as they pass through the doors of the gala and into the heat of the night. She pauses at his question.

‘I just thought we could go to my apartment… It would be quieter than in there. Less crowded. Less… attention.’ She starts to explain, ‘We can go back if you want. If you need to.’ Her eyes widen as if she’s silently begging him to stay with her. 

He looks back once. He looks at her again and lightning strikes in her abdomen. That same soft, gentle look in his eyes and his shoulders start to relax. As his eyes wash over her face, she’s reminded so much of how easy it is to be in his company and she wonders why she was so terrified of this exact moment. Maybe it was the terror of not knowing whether she had driven him away or he left because he just didn’t want her anymore. But she remembers the perpetual nightmare she was living when he had left and she wasn’t so sure it could be so easily forgiven. 

He loved her then and he loves her now but words can’t cover a wound that is only beginning to heal. 

‘Okay.’ There was no air of uncertainty in how he was carrying himself. He looked determined as if her doubts were spilling out of her veins. They walked in silence from then. There wasn’t much to be said. She thought about mentioning how her apartment was five blocks away and was currently occupied by her golden retriever. But then it would require how the existence of both of those things were predicated on her running away from Florida and running away from what she had built there with him. 

Her thoughts occupied her the whole way through the lobby of her building and to her front door. Reckoning with the cause and effects of Bob being in there. What it would mean, what it did mean. Unlocking the door, she called out for Natalie and Charlie came pounding to the door. 

‘You got a dog?’ Bob looked bewildered. 

‘Yeah, this is Charlie,’ his eyes lit up. He’d always loved that name for a dog. Bob hunkered down to greet him - in that position he looked so childlike and free. So much healthier than before. Still so much guarded behind those eyes of his, she thought. 

‘Hi Nat, this is Bob.’ 

If Natalie was shocked, she didn’t show it. She just gave her a sly smile and said she’d get out of her hair. 

‘I owe you for looking after him!’ She called after her. 

‘No, you don’t. Just buy me a coffee tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Bob.’ As she was leaving, that sly smile had grown into a full blown grin. She knew for a fact that as soon as that door closed Aubrey would be receiving a litany of texts about The Bob. And soon enough her phone would be buzzing with expletives from their newly founded group chat. 

Anxiety ripples through her now as she knows this isn’t going to be the fairytale reunion she hoped for. A small part of her hopes that he knows this too. That he’s maybe abandoned ship for a smooth recovery. 

‘I’ll just put him to bed so we can talk.’ She waits for him to disagree. ‘Do you want tea, coffee, or water?’ She’s putting it off for as long as possible. He shakes his head no and continues to pet Charlie as if he’s the best friend he’d always wanted. Removing Charlie from Bob felt like a sisyphean task. 

‘You know I always wanted a dog.’ He’s so soft spoken it makes her heart melt. She can see him analysing her apartment, trying to see where he fits within it. Making judgments of where he might not fit in her life anymore. He still hasn’t sat down despite her gesturing to her couch. Then again she hadn’t sat down either. It didn’t feel standoffish but the tension between them was thickening as each second passed. 

‘I know.’ 

‘I wanted to name it Charlie. And I wanted a big dog.’ 

‘I know.’ 

He looked at her expectantly. 

‘I guess, when I came here I was running from the grief of losing you.’ She was being cautious in what she was saying. Yelena’s ominous warnings about The Void firmly at the forefront of her mind. ‘To be honest, Bob, I was ruined. It ruined me. At first I thought I’d done something wrong and that you were high when we kissed and that it meant nothing.’ 

You can’t stop a freight train from going 100 miles an hour. 

‘Then when you didn’t return my calls or my texts and when I first heard that user-not-recognised voicemail, I had already accepted that you were dead and you weren’t coming back. You left without an explanation and the one you’re giving me now is, honestly, bullshit.’ 

Her brutal honesty shocked him. And it shocked her too. Her mouth was moving faster than her brain. 

‘You went halfway across the world to become a better person for me yet you didn’t think to involve me in that decision?’ 

What she really wants to say is on the tip of her tongue. Years of dancing around it, saying it in ways that didn’t quite convey the depths of what she felt for him. 

‘I love you. But you hurt me.’ She sees the flash of worry in his eyes, ‘I know you didn’t mean to. It’s really important to me that you know that.’ He gives her a slight nod and she feels somewhat relieved. ‘I would never have asked you to change. Sure, I wanted you to get better. Be healthy, exist without them. Being an addict does not make you any less deserving of love. We don’t choose who we fall in love with, Bob, and I fell in love with every single part of you. I wanted to be there for you throughout everything, good and bad.’ 

‘I thought you knew how much I loved you, I thought it showed,’ she can tell by the look in his eyes, hints of regret masked by rising tides of tears, that he didn’t know, ‘You left me without warning and grieving you has been the hardest thing I have ever done.’ 

The room became blurry as she let her tears flow freely. He was blinking back his. 

‘All I can really say is that I’m sorry.’ Bob is weary, dejected. There isn’t much fight left in either of them. ‘I want to take it back but I can’t. I don’t expect you to forgive me or to still… keep me around.’ 

It hurts her to think that he believes that she wouldn’t forgive him. 

‘Bob…’ he looks up at her and the world shifts, ‘I forgave you a long time ago.’ 

‘Oh, that’s…that’s good?’ She lets out a small laugh. 

‘You just seem to be doing so well, I don’t want to…disrupt that.’ 

‘I’ve been waiting for you. You wouldn’t be disrupting anything, you would be making everything feel whole again.’ 

He smiles ever so softly at her and her heart feels as though it could take flight. 

‘How can I make any of this up to you?’ He takes a brief step towards her. ‘I don’t want to just waltz back in as if I didn’t hurt you irreparably.’ 

‘Bob, if you hurt me irreparably, I would have told you to fuck off.’ He laughs. ‘Hmm, I guess you would’ve.’ 

She beams at him and it feels good to let it all go. She’s accepted the uncertainty of the future in many ways and how strange it is that he’s so god-like now. But he hasn’t lost that boyish charm that hides in his eyes and comes out to play when they’re both alone. How magnetic he feels as he stands in front of her, his shoulders so broad and chest pushed out as if he can feel the effect he has on her, as if he can feel her heat and how fast her heart is beating. 

‘Would you tell me to fuck off if I kissed you right now?’ It comes out so timidly, in such stark contrast with the way he is standing in her living room. His bold-faced confidence nearly knocks her off her feet, her knees feeling oh-so-weak. ‘Well,’ she feels a smirk creep onto her face, ‘have I told you to fuck off yet?’ 

Bob is glowing as he steps towards her, closing the slightest of gaps between them and places his hand on her cheek. ‘Everyday I wonder how I got so lucky that night we met… that the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen talked to me. Little old me in the corner.’ 

She smiles at him, ‘I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, y’know.’ 

‘Ah, yes - love at first sight with a meth-head in a denim vest.’ She bats his chest. Again, the firmness of his chest surprises her. 

‘Stop it. You know I had a punk phase in high school. Old habits die hard.’ 

He looks at her with such intensity, it nearly wipes the teasing smirk off of her face. His features soften into quiet determination as if he is shaking his fears away. 

‘I’m going to kiss you now.’ 

‘Please.’ It comes out pleading and soft and desperate. Then he kisses her and the axis of the world shifts and it’s almost as though she’s stepping into the sun for the first time. Feeling his lips against hers, the swipe of his tongue on her bottom lip, how his hands slowly move down her side. It’s so soft, not desperate but she can feel his longing and pining for her in every movement. 

When he pulls away, a soft whine leaves both of their mouths, not wanting to be separated. Opening her eyes into his, he grins and says hi. Suddenly, the axis shifts again and everything is as it should be and as it once was. 

[greenbench]

CAUSE I'M A PUNK ROCKER - c. kent

synopsis you moved to smallville because you had to save your family's farm. it was a place you never wanted to stay at but also couldn't escape. then you met him: quiet, steady, and the one person who saw through your walls. slowly, without warning he became the part of you you didn't even know you were missing

a.n my longest fic to date. there will be a part 2 cause i didn't wanna make it too long. this part is spans reader and clark relationship from childhood to late teens (ends with them just starting uni), reader will be a punk rock musician in the next part. also wrote the song lyrics myself so sorry if they're cringe lol not betaread

wc 10.2k (ik it's long but give it a chance!)

heads up slow burn, porn with plot, bestfriend clark, no use of y/n, reader is female, they get into a fight but they get over it, lana lang and peter ross are mentioned but their personalities are completely my own creation. clark is a munch, mutual loss of virginity, fingering, p in v, unprotected (wrap it b4 you tap it), mentions of car crashes

You loved Blüdhaven. It was where you were born, where you’d been raised. The only time you ever spent outside of it was when you were visiting your grandparents in the summer. There was never much to do, but making friends with the cows and watching your grandma knit were admittedly things you liked doing. In moderation of course, 3 weeks out of the year in slow living was all you could handle. 

Blüdhaven had loads to do, there were always events going on, concerts happening, new exhibits at the museum. Your class field trips were anything but boring, and you loved going on little adventures or “side quests” as you liked to call them with your friends. On the last day of school, you even got to have a water baloon fight after field day. You had walked home soaking wet but happy, smiling from ear to ear. 

That smile quickly dropped when you saw the look on your parents' faces. Your mom had quickly ushered you into the shower, bringing you neatly folded clothes and resting them on the countertop before telling you to come back to the living room once you were done. 

As the steam curled around the patterned tiles, your thoughts ran wild with what they had to tell you. 

Had they found out you had helped Amelia cheat during the math exam in April? Had your teachers told them you had accidentally dropped the paint in art class a few weeks ago? They had said you weren’t in any trouble though, that couldn’t be it. You pondered like this for a few more minutes before your heart sunk into your stomach. Your library book. It sat under your bed, mockingly collecting dust, and was 4 weeks overdue yesterday. You had been meaning to give it back, but you had accidentally tore the spine away from the pages after reading a particularly angering scene. Great. You were really in for it now. 

Before you could think too much about what exactly your punishment would be, your mothers yelling pulled you out of your trance. Twisting the knob, the water ca,me to a halt as you dried yourself off before changing into the clothes your mom had picked out. The pajamas were soft, but offered little comfort to your now terrified mind.

Carefully padding down the stairs, you sat in the chair across from the sofa, looking at the floor dejectedly before opening your mouth to apolgize. Your parents speak before you can.

“Sweetheart, we have some important news to tell you”

Your shoulders immediately relax, realizing that this isn’t going to be a lecture. But something about your dads tone has you nervous. What could be so important that they had to sit you down?

Pausing for a beat, he continues.

“So you know how we were planning on not going to the farm this summer? We were gonna have you go to that summer camp with your friends instead”

You nodded as he began again

“Well, Grandma and Grandpa have been having a hard time taking care of everything on the farm, you know they’re getting older. It’s hard to keep up with all the animals and crops when you’re our age let alone theirs”  He moves forward slightly, linking his fingers together. “Grandpa had a scare yesterday, he almost fell while getting off the baler. He called us asking if we could come stay there with them.” He stops speaking for a moment. 

You’re confused, and pretty upset. You go to the farm every summer, this is the only time in your 9 years of living that you’ve ever asked to stay back. Your best friends were going to Camp Ivy, you had asked months before and now you were ghoung to have to go to that stupid farm again while all of them had fun. Without you. Great, just great. Digging your nails into your palm, you stiffen a little as your mother continues where he left off.

“We said yes, but we aren’t just going to be staying for the summer, we’re moving there permanently”

Your heart stops for a moment. You’re genuinely at a loss for words. Your mother reaches out her hand, to comfort you, you think. But you quickly move back, the tears you were holding back move freely as you get up and run into your room. You let your body hit the bed, crawling under the covers as you put your pillow over your head to muffle your crying. 

Your life is officially over. All of your friends, your teachers, everyone you know was going to forget about you while you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, Kansas.  Great. Just great. You wake up the next day and on your way to the bathroom catch sight of the outfit you had worn yesterday, you had been so happy when you had gotten home and now you were just like the shirt. Creumpled up, dirty, and in desperate need of a wash.

Your parents had given you space, but within the next few days you had already begun to pack, your whole life soon was boxed away and put into a truck as you got in the car. It would take 2 days to get to Smallville.

In all honesty it doesn’t fully even set in that you're moving, your mind warps it into being just another summer trip. But for some reason, the minute your head hits the hotel pillows in Indianapolis it really hits you. In all honesty, you should’ve seen it coming. For a whole now they had been talking about oving (they didn’t know that you’d heard them of course, it was always after bedtime). Also Grandma and Grandpa needed help, they were strong but even you couldn’t do all that work on your own. Even though you were upset you were leaving everything you knew behind, you would rather do that than make your parents stay unhappy and your grandparents stay overwhelmed. Sighing you let yourself sink further into the pillow, closing your eyes as you drift off to sleep.

The next day is spent once again, staring off out the window, you had tried to read, but your motion sickness forbade it, feeling nauseous befor eyou could even turn a page. As you watched the sky darken and rain begin to come down, you let yourself day dream about what you would be like if you were a character in the book. Maybe even the main character. It was fun, and as you got lost in the scenario the sun slowly moved further west, gently hiding as it fell past the horizon. 

It’s late when you reach the farm, your eyes open after what feels like hours as you stretch softly. Your mom opens the backseat door, and you get out. The air is refreshing, warmer than you remember it being, but comforting nontheless. Your grandparents are already asleep as you quietly open the door. Your things would arrive tomorrow, the movers had said they’d arrive sometime between 8am and noon.  

The house, like the farm it resided on was massive, to you at least. Out of the 5 bedrooms of the house, you had your own special one, decorated mostly with things your grandma had crotched or knitted. 

You let your backpack hit the floor as you took a shower to get the long car ride off your body. After changing you stayed up to finish the last few chapters of your book. 

-

The next few weeks weren’t like anything you had expected, The fomo of not going to summer camp and the harsh reality that you wouldn’t be going back to Blüdhaven really set in, and you struggled to do much more than lounge around on the couch all day. Even the animals could feel the resentment you had, the last time you tried hanging out with the cows, they had basically run off. 

You spent most of the day either watching old black and white filmswith grandpa, watching grandma knit, or reading. You had been evicted out of your room after you had been “in there too much” according to mom. 

Now you would read sitting in the cornfields, at first it was kinda scary because they were tall and when they moved it almost sounded like someone was behind you, but you got used to it. May was ending and you were feeling more miserable than ever, so it didn’t really come as a surprise to you that your parents were sitting you down in the kitchen that morning. 

You were having a staring contest with the gingham tablecloth as your parents went on and on about how they were “concerned for you” and how you “needed to make more friends” honestly, did they expect you to just forget about all the ones back home? Making new friends now would be accepting the fact that they weren’t going to be your friends anymore. The thought of that made your eyes sting and before you could even think about it you abruptly stood up, tearing your eyes away from the cloth as your palms made an echoing thwack sound as they hit the table. 

Before your parents could open their mouths, you turned around and ran, the door shut loudlky as you ran, you winced, you hadn’t meant to be so rude but you couldn’t help it. You had obsiously been so upset, they hadn’t even thought about what it would mean, making new friends. The tears flowed freely down your cheeks as your arms pushed against the neverending cornstalk. You didn’t know where you were planning on going, but you knew for a fact you couldn’t stay on the farm. They’d come looking for you, and the last thing you wnated was your parents to look at you with the eyes they’ve been giving you recently. Always a little sad, you hadn’t been able to put your finger on it for a while but you had finally realized what it was, pity.

The gentle breeze and the moving of the plants hid your quiet sniffles, and you continued to walk for what felt like hours. Once you hit the fence that marked where your farm ended, you made your way to the side of the road as you continued walking. The sun was fully out now, it was probably mid afternoon. You were starting to get thirsty, but your pride wasn’t going to let you turn back now, you were in too deep. 

Just as your feet started to ache a little bit more, you began to make out what looked like a farmhouse. You continued walking just off the road, and as you got closer you came face to face with a mailbox. Leaning your head to the left you noted in bold white letters, KENT was written on the side. You contemplated for a moment what you should do. You hadn’t spoken to anyone but your family for nearly a month so you weren’t sure if you would sound stupid or not, but the dryness in your throat quickly made the decision for you. 

Oh well, even if the Kents were your grandparents' age, maybe you could befriend them. That would shut your parents up. Could you be friends with people your parents age though? Before you could deliberate any further you had reached the porch. You stopped, looking side to side for someone outside, but after seeing nobody you exhaled, straightening your back and looking at your parents eye level. Most adults are that height and that way they wont have tio stare at your head when you open the door, the long hike you took here probably messed up your hair, and that wouldn’t make for a good first impression. You knocked on the door. Once. Twice.

The door slowly creaked open and you were confused when you didnt see someone looking down at you, as you let your eyes fall back to normal your breath got caught in your throat. Looking back at you wasn’t someone your grandparents age, not even your parents. He loooked as old as you, maybe older cause he was a little bigger than you. And his eyes were bluer than you thought was possible. Bluer than clear skies, the oceans you had seen, even your markers. 

You both stared at each other for a moment before he opened his mouth. 

“Hi, can I help you?”

Around 50 thoughts ran through your mind, all slamming into each other and making you stare at him blankly for a second or two.

“Um hi I took a walk, a really long one, longer than I meant to at least-” before you let yourself ramble and make yourself look even stupider than you already have, you shake your head before speaking again, more coherently this time. “Could I get some water? I think i’m dehydrated”

He smiles at you, cheeks caving into dimples as he pushes the door open. “Of course! I’ll have Ma get you some, she’s making some rhubarb pie, if you stay long enough you can have some too!”

You’re pretty shocked at the instant kindness and welcome in your random arrival, but you feel yourself smiling, truly smiling, for the first time in weeks. “I’ve never had Rhubarb pie before, but it sounds good”

He gapes at you for a minute, before beginning to ramble about how it’s the most perfect, amazing dessert to ever exist. You listen intently, following him further into the house after you take your shoes off. Clark, who tells you his name after he proclaims his love for rhubarb pie, brings you to the kitchen. 

A woman with wavy brown hair turns around, meeting your eyes with a smile as she shakes your hand gently. “Hi! I’m Martha, it’s nice to meet you! You’re (Grandpa and Grandma’s names” grandbaby aren’t you?”

You nod, somewhat surprised that she already knows who you are, whenever you visit you stick mostly to the farm, rarely going out more into town. Knowing your grandparents, they probably gushed about you to their neighbors so you shouldn’t be too shocked.

You sat down at the table, a glass of water in hand. Martha aske how long you were going to be staying, and Clarl perked up when you said you’d moved here permanently. 

“Does that mean you’re going to go to Weisinger?” He asks

You nod, you’re pretty sure that’s the elementary you’d be attending. It is the only one in Smallville after all. Behind you, grabbing a pie pin Martha assks.

“What grade are you going into honey?” 

“Fifth grade” You smile at this, at least after this year you would get to be out of elementary. You were excited to go to middle school, it seemed more grown up. 

After hearing that, Clark says that he’s going into fifth grade too, and you smile wider. A friend. You had actually gotten a friend. 

As May ended, so did the slump you had been in. You had been driven home later that day, with two tupperware, one full of pie, and another full of casserole. Martha had insisted. You waved goodbye to her and Clark as you sheepishly stepped inside. You heard quick shuffling, you steeled yourself, ready to get yelled at. 

The last thing you expected was to be wrapped in an enveloping hug. After a more concerned than angry lecture, you held out the tupperware for them and told them all about the very interesting day that you had.

You spent the rest of the summer having fun, mostly with Clark. You guys caught fireflies at night (you always let them go, it was fun watching them all come out at once), climbed and fell off of hay bales, started a book club made up of just you two, and tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to teach him the guitar. You introduced him to your favorite series, loaning him books that you would read together in the corn fields. By late August you even pinky swore. From that day on, you two were officially best friends. 

Adjusting to Weisinger was hard at first, you weren’t used to such small classes. It didn’t help that everybody knew everybody, most of them since birth, but Clark made it easier. He introduced you to his friends, and soon enough you had a new little circle. The school year went by fast like it always did and soon enough you were getting ready to go to Junior High. You didn’t feel as grown up as you thought you would, but it was exciting nonetheless.

That was until you got your schedule back. Unlike in Elementary school where you just had one teacher that taught you all the subjects, in middle school you had a different teacher for each one. When you compared your schedule to Clarks, your heart sank. You didn’t have any classes together, only lunch. Ever the optimist, he could sense your frustration. He reassured you. 

“We still have lunch together, don’t worry. Besides we have a promise don’t we? I’d never let myself drift away from my best friend” He smiles, and you feel your heart skip a beat. You shove him a little before bringing your hand up to his, pinkies interlocking as you smile. 

Clark, as usual, was right. Your classes were still full of people you knew, as moving here like you did was pretty rare. Most of them were boring, but some classes you always looked forward to. The two main ones were English and music. Over the summer the ‘Book Club’ you had with Clark turned into a writing club, you had exhausted all the books both of your parents thought you were mature enough to read, and so after putting your heads together you decided to just write your own stories. You both went about it differently. Where Clark was methodical, direct, almost documentative, you were more metaphorical, lyrical, introspective. It was fun seeing how the other would have such different takes on prompts, and class gave you an oppurtunity to imporve your skills. Music was also like that, but instead you got to play on an electric guitar. You had wanted one since you had first picked up an acoustic, but your mom insisted that playing on an acoustic would “sharpen your skills”. She was right, it had been what she had done when she learned how to play. Nothing could beat the adrenaline rush you got when playing an electric for the first time though. It felt like the notes itself were flowing through your veins. This was definitely something you could get used to.

Clark and you still hung out at least twice a week. Sometimes you did homework together, trying and failing to work on math. Two heads is better than one didn’t apply to you guys when it came to anything math related. Other times you wrote lyrics as he wrote up things for the daily announcements, it let him write about stuff the way he wanted. You guys were great. You two had somehow gotten even closer, you were both rarely seen without  the other during breaks. In seventh grade you had three classes together, that was fun. And going into eighth, you only had one. Anything was better than nothing though, and you quickly settled into the new routine. 

It was orgnaized chaos, until yesterday at least. 

As you guys were biking home from school Clark told you about a crush he had one one of your classmates. Not just anyone though, he had a crush on Lana. Lana Lang. The perfect, beautiful, frustratingly nice Lara Lang. You almost crashed your bike when he told you, but luckily a rock you passed over hid it for you. Truly a blessing in disguise. You listened to him talk about her, offering input on how he should ask her out. He thought he didn’t have a chance, but you convinced him otherwise later. 

As you had predicted she had said yes to him, and they had a date planned for Sunday. It wasn’t anything too crazy, just getting ice cream and biking to the creek. He admitted he was nervous though, because he didn’t know if it was normal to kiss someone after a date. You didn’t really know either, it’s not like your parents talked to you about things like this, and you didn’t have an older sibling to ask, so you both tried to figure out what the social norms were. After deliberating for hours (20 minutes) you guys thought that before she went back to her house, he would kiss her if it felt right. That followed another long discussion about what “feeling right” meant and how he would know. One of the things you and Clark had in common was not really understanding social situations at times. While he had to actively identify them and figure out how to react, you had a hard time reacting in what you knew was the “normal” way. It was nice having someone that you didn’t have to pretend all the time around, and you think he appreciated having someone besides his parents that he didn’t have to constantly overthink around. He could be honest with you, blunt even. 

That’s why it didn’t really shock you when he asked you a question the next day. You’re in your bedroom- him at your desk, writing; you at the foot of your bed, strumming mindlessly. The question itself does surprise you, though.

“Do you think we could kiss? For practice at least I don’t wanna kiss Lana badly. That would be a nightmare.”

You pause for a moment, accidentally playing a chord a little flat before you laugh. He looks back at you and you laugh, shaking your head. 

“Practicing sounds smart but are you sure? You’d be losing your first kiss to me instead of her.”

He contemplates for a moment before responding. “I don’t think I would, besides I'd be your first kiss too so it would balance out.”

It’s your turn to think now, and after a moment of deliberation you nod your head. What he said is logical, besides you don’t really mind losing your first kiss to Clark, you’ve known him for a long time and he’s one of the few people you fully trust. 

“How should we do it? Also do you mean like right now?” You put your guitar to the side, leaning to your right and cracking your back. 

He gets out of your chair and sits in front of you. It isn’t awkward per se, it never is with the two of you, but something is different. He looks at you differently than he normally does. You don’t know how to describe it, before you can contemplate longer he interrupts your thoughts. 

“If you dont mind, that is. You do know that you can tell me no, right?” He looks at you a little worried but that disappears when you smile.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” looking at him. Both of you sit still for a minute again before he grabs your hand, gently tugging you closer. You can feel your heartbeat thrumming. He tells you to not be nervous, and before you can quip out a retort, his lips are on yours. It’s an interesting feeling, he’s warm, like always and a hand that had pulled you closer is slowly bought up to your face. A second later your eyes are opening as you both simultaneously pull apart. “How was that? Was it bad?” He asks

You think about it for a moment, but after seeing him get more nervous you reassure him it was fine, you were just trying to figure out how to descrube it. You’re careful to not sound overly enthusiastic, and for the first time since knowing him, you lie to Clark. Lie might be a stretch, it’s more of a half truth. I mean it’s not like you could tell him that you liked it, or that you wanted to do it again. Lana. Pretty, perfect Lana. You shove whatever confusing emotions youre feeling down as you and Clark go back to normal, he’s still sitting on the floor with you , but now he’s to your left, reading over your lyrics and helping you edit them while you keep playing chords trying to figure out what sounds right. 

You find yourself dreading Sunday. The usual excitement you have for the weekend is dampened when you remember how it’s going to end. You’re supposed to be happy for Clark, be the one cheering him on from the sidelines. So why is it that you’re struggling so much to do it? 

And so like you always do when you’re feeling things you don’t fully comprehend, you grab your journal. The leather is worn around the edges, and you pull the thin bookmark to the side as you begin to write. You write in pen, it doesn’t fade like pencil does, but it makes for a very annoying writing utensil when you seem to be writing all the wrong things. Three hours and much more pages later, you read over the lyrics you’ve scrubbled down. 

You said she makes you happy, so why can’t I breathe?

I smile like I mean it, but it cracks my teeth

I tell myself it’s nothing, just a shadow in my mind,

But when your eyes find hers the colors start to blind

You groan, getting angry but not having the heart to strike what you’ve written. You drop your journal at your desk and grab your backpack, you have algebra homework due. You should;ve known Clark would come straight to yours after dropping her. Your parents just let him in now, the only thing that you need to hear to know he’s here is the special knock you both came up with last summer. You perk up, composing yourself and making sure you don’t look like you’ve been wallowing in self pity for the last few hours like you actually are. You open the door with a smile. Clarks eyes meet yours and you quickly usher him into your room, pulling out some snacks as you sit down. 

He tells you everything, what the bike ride to hers was like, all the mosquitos that bit him, what she was wearing when she came out. Red shirt Blue jeans with some grease on them from working on a car project with her dad. They had gone to get ice cream, he was still being assaulted by mosquitos. He got vanilla cone, she got bubblegum. Once they biked haphazardly to the creek, they sat and talked. You followed along, you were happy for him, and all seemed yto have gone as smoothly as could be imagined. 

“Once the sun got closer to setting we biked back to hers and before she left she leaned in and hugged me. I think she pecked my cheel? I got really nervous and kinda forgot. I did smile at her at least,and hugged her back. But duh who wouldn’t hug someone back if they were- anyways yeah then she went inside, and I came here. 

The excitement you had for him earlier much to your dismay only increased when you heard how it ended. You hugged him, told him he did a good job, and hung out for a few more minutes. It was getting late, and you guys had school in the morning. You gave him your algebra homework before he left, telling him to follow the steps you did to get the right answer. You made sure to mention that your dad had looked over it to make sure you were right. The last thing you needed was to be wrong while trying to help other people. He thanked you and you walked him down, giving him another hug and waving as biked off. You closed the door behind you, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. As you turned around to go back upstairs the whole family stared at you from the living room, the movie on the tv being all but forgotten. Just illuminating their faces as they gave you a collective look that screamed ‘I know something you don’t’. After a second you went back to your room upstairs, catching a sliver of conversation as you did.

“When are they going to get together” “Oh hush ma, what if she hears you?”

“Oh please, I’m sure she already likes him”

Your heart quickens a bit as you make your way up. 

This is really bad, what are you going to do?

For the first summer since moving to Smallville, you and Clark don’t spend basically everyday together. Sure, you still hang out at least once a week, but the feelings you were trying to deny are just getting stronger and you don’t know what to do with them. You write more songs now, and for your birthday your parents finally got you an electric guitar. They complain about the noise if you play too late, but you know that they don’t mind, not really. You even build more on the lyrics you had written down a few months ago back when you really didn’t know what was going on. You glance over the page, playing the chords you had color coded with highlighters as you hum along. 

You talk about her like she hung the sky

And I'm nodding along just to get by

You laugh and I crack a little more

Staring at the shoes I wore to your front door

I’m the margin where your thoughts begin

The line you cross then write again

You talk about her, I laugh on cue

Fold up my feelings, just like you do

I swear i’m happy and it’s half true

But I still wish she was me to you

It’s frustrating, feeling this way. You should feel happy for him, you do feel happy for him. But you can’t help it.

You go to bed restless that night. 

That fall was the worst harvest Smallvilles ever had. Some of the farmers had crop loss so severe that they had to sell some of their animals. Smallville was as tight knit as they come, and so people helped each other out where they could. You and Clark worked together, opening a small food pantry for those in need.

Because of the rough start to autumn, back to school morale was at an all time low. That coupled up with the fact that this was your first year of high school made your nerves all the more worse. You tossed and turned restlessly before deciding to just get up. You walked to your closet, pulling on a pair of comfy shorts before biking over to Clarks. His room is on the second floor, but he always leaves the first floor studys’ window unlocked so that you can come over if you need him. You leave your window open, he manages to get up somehow, you don’t really know how but you don’t ask questions. 

After pulling the window up and avoiding making any creaks or noises, you contort yourself into the house. Gently going up the stairs you reach Clarks door. You knock quietly. Once. Twice. 

After a few seconds Clark comes to the door, he clearly hasn’t slept yet either, and his shoulders relax as he sees you. After letting you in he closes the door behind you.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You drop onto his bed responding with a hum. “I blame it on nerves”

“How come you’re nervous?” a familiar weight joins you on the mattress. 

“I dunno, it’s nothing really”

His eyes narrow a little before laying down, you’re both laying horizontally on the bed now, knees to the edge. “You’re lying”

“No i’m not”

“Yes you are”

“Am not”

“Are too”

You roll your eyes, looking to the side before staring at the ceiling. The fan moves along lazily, doing little to cool the burning you felt in your face

“High school just seems scary, after this I either have to get a job or go to college. Either way, i’ll be leaving Smallville and leaving Smallville means leaving you. And the last time I left behind my friends we basically stopped speaking all together save calls on our birthdays. I don’t know if I can handle that. And I know it sounds dumb-”

He cuts you off, he looks at you, and you can feel it. Meeting his eyes you look back at him, they’re still the same shade of blue, bright, blinding, beautiful.

“We aren’t gonna stop being best friends just because you move y’know. We made a promise. We keep our promises.” His pinky intertwines with yours and you can’t help the smile that reaches your face. 

“I know I know, but we’re both only going to get busier. Me with my music and you with writing. We’ll join clubs, you’ll finally ask Lana out and i’ll probably go out with Pete”

“Wait Pete Ross? Of all people, why Pete?” He gets up, leaning back on his elbows, looking at you in disbelief

Immediatley you feel defensive, you get up too, mirroring him. “Why not? We have music together and he’s pretty cool.” “Well I don’t know, he seems” Clark pauses for a moment. Knowing him he’s trying to figure out how to say a not so nice thing in a nice way. He settles on calling him “Unique”. You scoff getting up feeling anger start to bubble up in your chest. “Ok I dont understand why you can’t be supportive of who I want to date when I've been your number one when it comes to you and Lana” You start to walk towards the door before he grabs your arm, stopping you. You flinch, he’s holding onto you, hard. He lets go immediately, apologizing. 

“Look I didn’t mean it like that, I'm sure he’s great.” His hands come up to his neck, scratching it softly. He’s lying, you know it. Great. Just great. 

You had given him the decency to be happy for him and Lana, so why couldn’t he even pretend to be happy for you? It wasn’t even like you guys were together. You pushed out a quick goodbye and made your way quietly down the steps. You had never left Kent's house feeling worse than when you had come, but apparently there was a first time for everything. 

You knew he’d be waiting to bike with you in the morning, so you left for school half an hour early. Your mom looked at you skeptically before handing you your lunch. After saying bye to your grandparents, you left. 

You honestly don’t know if you were even hiding how shitty you felt. Last night kept playing on loop, and you dreaded the day ahead as you got closer to your new home for the next four years. 

Smallville High seemed huge, intimidating to you in the past, and you were older now. If you looked close enough, you could see the grout chipping off the bricks. You looked up, seeing SMALLVILLE HIGH SCHOOL in bold red letters. They loomed over you mockingly. 

Letting out a sigh, you made your way into the mostly empty halls. Checking your watch, you still had some time before first period, so you decided to go to your music class and scope out the place. It wasn’t grand by any means, but it was a huge upgrade from junior high. The room was small, cosy. There were rows where the choir would sing, and along the side of the wall opposite lay an assortment of instruments. Guitar, bass, drums. There were also cases, you assumed, for the band and orchestra instruments. 

While you were busy exploring your new school, Clark had arrived at your house. He had some of Ma’s oatmeal cookies with him, they were your favorite and he really was sorry. He felt even worse after your mom told him you had left early. Said it was something about trying out for band. She had looked at him with pity, like she knew something he didn’t. Smiling and nodding, he turned around and picked up his bike. 

Since when did you want to do band?

The first bell rang and you made your way to class. The first period of the day was history. It was a subject you liked, but your teacher Mr. Jensen seemed to have a natural talent for making the most interesting of things boring. As his monotone voice dragged on you felt yourself nodding off a little before someone to your right nudged you gently. 

Looking over, you noticed Pete Ross of all people signaling his head to the board. You almost laughed, how ironic. 

The rest of the day passed with a similar vibe, you were exhausted and if you had to do one more ice breaker you were going to slam your head into the wall. At least you hadn’t seen Clark today though, small wins. 

Speaking of Clark, he had spent almost all day trying to spot you, this year you guys didn’t have any classes together, or lunch so he had resorted to wasting his passing period. Not like he really needed it to get to class on time. He bit on the inside of his cheek, he had really messed up this time. 

-

The following 3 weeks were some of the worst you had ever had. You didn’t know if it was because you had been ducking Clark, or if it was because your music teacher seemed to hate everything you had to offer. He said your music was “too rough” and it would lead to “sin”. As if. You rolled your eyes, getting angry just thinking about it. You tried to write new songs, but you kept on turning back to one of the earliest pages of your journal. The page was worn out more than the ones surrounding it, and was dotted with a few old tearstains. You flicked your pen back and forth before writing

I wrote your name in every line

You traced hers over it, realigned

I was the echo you never heard 

Just background hum beneath your words

This was getting really pathetic, you knew you were in the wrong by now. He had tried to apologize and you had been too upset to forgive him. You steeled yourself, and decided that today was the day. You grabbed your bike, and headed over to the Kents. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest, you thought you were going to throw up. You took deep breaths as you walked up to the porch. Clark. This is Clark. The same guy that cried when he saw ant piles disappear in the rain, the same Clark that walked a mile with you on his back when you were 10 because you scraped your knee playing. You’re fine, he’s fine, you guys will be ok. You knock on the door

The door opens and green eyes meet yours. Lana Lang. She smiles at you, but it doesn’t fully reach her eyes.

“Oh hey, you! So good to see you?”

“Yeah you too Lana, is Clark here?” Your resolve is crumbing by the second, your feet itch with the urge to just turn around.

“Clarkie? Yeah he’s here, do you want something?” She bats her eyelashes at you, waiting for a response

“Uh yeah, I wanted to talk to him actually, can you just send him out? Or I can come in-” As you say that she closes the door so just her face peeks out. 

“I’ll see if he can come out” She smiles at you, then slams the door in your face. And so you wait. And wait. And wait. Three minutes turns into five, and before you know it it’s been fifteen minutes. You’re contemplating just leaving but the door opens again. You perk up, expecting Clark but it’s Lara at the door instead. Something is different about her though, your eyes narrow and you notice the lipstick she had on earlier is almost gone, smudged around the corners. Her face is flushed, and she’s breathing heavily. You feel yourself start to get sick.

“So sorry love but he’s too busy to come talk right now. Maybe some other day?” She doesn’t even let you speak, and closes the door in your face. Wow.

What you didn’t know is that Lana hadn’t even told Clark you had come, when he asked who it was she said it was just some delivery man that had gotten the wrong address. They had been working on a piece for the Smallville Torch, his first issue was a big deal and he had wanted a second pair of eyes. He had tried going to you, and you needed space. Lana had offered and he didn’t see the harm in it. He wasn’t really expecting her to just abandon helping him though, she basically out of nowhere had started to give him the look and started to kiss him. He didn’t mimd, but he really needed to work on the piece. After giving her some more pecks he got back to work. Lana had left the room saying she needed to use the restroom, but he heard the front door open. He honed his listening in, and when he heard Lana telling someone that he was busy he was confused, then he heard your voice. You sounded hurt. It dawned on him then, what had actually been going on. 

Ever since you guys had that argument, he had gotten kinda lonely. All of his other friends had told him to just find you and apologize again, but he knew you wouldn’t really accept it until he had given you space. He had started to hang out with Lana more, and more, and she always acted weird when you were brought up. He put his head in his hands, god he had really done it this time. He was ripped out of his thoughts when the door opened and a smiley Lana had waltzed in. He told her to leave, nicely or so he thought. She started crying, asking what she did wrong. When he wouldn’t give her an answer, she started to yell. At least Ma and Pa weren’t home, they wouldn’t have liked to hear him yell at a lady, even if she was hurting him.

As he walked her back to the stairs she kept on talking, but about you now. Started saying all kinds of awful things and if he hadn’t known better he would’ve cussed her out. He closed the door as she left and went back to his room to try and figure out how to fix this mess.

You’ve been crying for a good hour by now, you can’t help it. You keep on trying to tell yourself that he’s just a friend but you can’t help the way your heart aches. You can’t deal with it anymore. You open the all too familiar page in your journal and write the final chorus to the song.

I’m the silence when you need a friend

The start of stories that never end

You talk about her, I know you should

She makes you smile the way I wish I could

And maybe that’s just how it goes

Some hearts stay hidden, some never show

As you finish the last line, the ink is still wet as you make your resolve. If you can’t get rid of the feelings you have for Clark, you’ll just shove them down. 

You lay in bed trying to figure out what chords are gonna be the best for your song when you hear your window start to creak open. You don’t tense up, but you are thankful that your tears had stopped flowing a few hours ago.

A weight dips into the bed in front of you, and as you look up your heart breaks just a little bit. Sitting at the foot of your bed is Clark. His clack curls lay messily on his head, he’s looking at you apologetically, and you don’t miss the redness in your eyes as he stares. He’s been crying, the poor thing. 

You don’t even spea, just letting your guitar rest softly on the bed as you move to stand up in front of him. Standing, you cradle the head of the boy sat beneath you. You can hear small sniffles as he begins to apologize. Your fingers toy with his hair gently, as you apologize to him too.

“And I’ve been meaning to tell you, honestly I was just going to tell you tomorrow, but me and Lana are done” His voice shakes slightly as he nuzzles his head further into your stomach.

Whatever anger that you had immediately vanishes as you listen. He tells you about what happened earlier that day, how he had been feeling, him trying to find you. 

You both had been so lonely these last few weeks. You move his head gently so that he’s looking at you, and raise a pinky. Silently, they interlock. 

You find yourself falling into a new rhythm, you aren’t that sad anymore, not really. Clark and you both date your fair share of people in highschool, you start a band that (miserably) ends. He’s at every gig you had. Clark gets better and writes more stories for the Torch. By senior year, not only is he editor in chief, he’s also the Captain of the Smallville Crows, the varsity football team. You guys make an odd pair, him in his letterman and blue jeans, and then you in your studded leather jacket and ripped jeans. You guys were still two peas in a pod. 

While most things were the same, some things had changed. You had started to dye your hair, going from purple to green, before settling on the dark cherry red you had now. Clark had changed too, he had gotten taller, stronger. He was able to lift things that shouldn’t even be humanly possible, he would flinch at loud noises, and vanish when there were emergencies in town. 

You guys decided to go to prom together, as friends of course. Neither of you had dates and you didn’t see the fun in going alone. You arrive at the gym around 9:30pm, in the Kents pickup. 

It’s been pretty fun so far, the music they’re playing isn’t half bad. They played a lot of the Mighty Crabjoys, you shouldn’t be too surprised though. Clark had managed to get the whole team hooked on them. As you guys are sitting at the bleachers chilling, he suddenly freezes. 

You freeze too, and ask what’s wrong. He says something, barely a whisper but you make out “My parents. It’s my parents, somethings wrong.” Getting up he looks to you

“Stay here for me”

Matching him, you get up. 

“Like hell I will”

He flashes you a smile before worry covers his face again. He grabs your hand and rushes out of the gym, leading you both to the truck. 

Turning the car on, he speaks

“Ok I, I don’t know if I can explain thai right now”

“Then don’t. Let’s go”

He hesitates for a second before backing out and speeding away from school. You guys are going fast. Fast for your standards means lightning speed for clarks. You guys are going down the dirt road and when you glance at the wheel, you see his knuckles turning white. 

The truck comes to a screeching halt, and through the highbeams you see a truly scary sight. Jonathan's truck crashed off the side of the road, crumpled. You feel your heart drop as you scramble to get out of the car. 

Looking at the scene in front of you, you bring your fingers to your hair, trying to calm yourself. 

“Clark this is bad, really bad. We gotta call someone” He shakes his head “There isn’t any time”

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Clark Kent has rendered you truly speechless.

You watch as he rips the mangled door of the truck off its hinges with his left hand, getting Jonathan and Martha out like they weigh nothing. You wonder for a second if the gas tank is leaking and if you're hallucinating this whole thing. You snap out of it, opening the back of the pickup to lay his parents down.

You don’t question him, Clark has always made sure you were safe. So what if he was insanely strong and could probably pick your whole house up without breaking a stretch. He was still the same Clark.

He begins to drive towards the farm and you break the silence

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just Ma and Pa, and you now too”

There’s a brief silence before you ask, quiter. “Why me”

“Because I trust you.”

After his parents are put in bed and their injuries taken care of, (You had insisted on them getting xrays but he said he could see their bones. That weirded you out for a second, then you asked him to describe your skull. It was his turn to be weirded out then)

You guys don’t end up going back to the dance, and instead lay in the fields watching the stars. A comfortable silence envelops you both, and you guys slowly drift off to sleep. 

- 

Graduation creeps up quickly, a small ball of dread has been building for the last few weeks. You had already been accepted into Gotham University, full ride courtesy of a Mr. Bruce Wayne. Apparently, if you were poor enough, he’d just throw money at you. You weren’t sure if it was charity or penance, and honestly, you didn’t care.

It was funny, though, how one man could casually bankroll someone’s entire education without blinking, while the rest of the country drowned in debt just for daring to want a future. You wondered how deep his pockets went, how many zeroes it took to feel absolved.

But you weren’t about to spit in the face of your ticket. If the system was rigged, you were taking whatever scraps fell off the billionaire table, and running.

Clark was going to be leaving too, but to Metropolis. He had gotten into Metropolis University for journalism and you couldn’t be more happy for him. He’d finally be somewhere bigger, somewhere that matched him. Not just his powers, though that would probably help, but the rest of him too. His inherent goodness, the kind that made people want to be better by just standing next to him, would probably create more positivity in the city.

The night before you both were to walk the stage, you went out into the fields like you always did. It was basically tradition at this point. You guys could be quiet together, no small town noise, no teachers, no futures looming on acceptances and job offers. 

Just the two of you and the stars.

You were both laying in the back of his truck, staring up at the kind of sky that makes you feel small in a good way. Crickets chirped in the tall grass. His plaid flannel was draped over your shoulders. You strummed your guitar absentmindedly, playing some song you had heard on the radio earlier. You guys sat in comfortable silence

“Do you ever think,” he said quietly, eyes still on the stars, “about how weird it is? That we’re supposed to just.. start our lives tomorrow? Like real ones. Adult ones. Without ever really being with someone we trusted?”

You stopped strumming

Not because the thought was strange, but because it wasn’t. Not at all. 

“Yeah, actually” you said. “All the time.”

You shifted slightly, and the flannel slipped down your left shoulder. 

“People act like we’re supposed to have all these big experiences already figured out. Like we’re gonna just wake up in our dorms or our apartments or wherever, and just know what the hell we’re doing”

Clark smiles at that, small and sad. “I’ve been working since I can remember and I still don’t feel like I know anything”

You laugh softly, nudging him a little. “You know plenty, you just think too much”

He turned his head to look at you, something was different about his eyes. They seemed to glow in the moonlight, a bright, blinding blue. 

“Maybe I do, but not about this.”

Your breath catches in your throat

“This?” you repeat, almost afraid to ask

He doesn’t look away, just says that he “trusts you”

It wasn’t a confession, not really. But it felt like one. Something quiet and huge at the same time. Something that shifted the air in between you

You swallowed, “I trust you too”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but was pronounced. It pulsed with everything you had wanted to tell him but hadn’t, not yet.

You set your guitar aside

“I don’t wanna go into the rest of my life never having felt close to someone y’know?” you admitted, voice quiet. “Not like that, I mean really being close to someone, them actually seeing me and choosing me”

His hands found yours in the space between you. “Me neither”

You leaned in first. Or maybe he did. You weren’t sure, because the second it happened, time seemed to stop.

It felt unreal having his lips on yours, they were soft, and his hands pulled you closer. You broke the kiss as you straddled his waist, and then you kissed him again. You had kissed people before, but it never felt like this. Your arms looped behind his neck as you felt yourself grinding into him subconsciously. He grounded into your mouth before bringing his hand to your waist to help you move.

His hands both came to your waist, and he gently flipped your positions so that you were lying on your back and he was on top of you. His kisses began to trail down, moving from your lips to your neck, down to your collar bones. When he was met with the barrier of a shirt he looked at you for permission. Once you gave him the go ahead he brought it over your head. You couldve sworn you saw hearts in eyes as he stared at you. He looked at you as if you were a work of art, a sculpture of a deity so holy that you had to worship it. He began to kiss down your sternum, unclasping your bra before his mouth found your nipples. Swirling his tongue, he sucked gently while tweakung the other. It made a familiar heat rush down between your legs and you couldn’t help the small pants that escaped your mouth. 

This seemed to only spur him on however, and he went further and further down before removing your shorts. He groaned when he saw the wet spot of your panties, glossing over it with his fingers before he pulled them down too.

“Is it alright if I try something?” He asked you softly

You nodded your head, unsure about what exactly he was planning on doing

And that was when you felt a warm tongue pressing into you. Clarks head was deep between your thighs, his fingers gripped your thighs gently but firmly as he ate you up. The feeling you had now was entirely foreign to you, and you couldn’t help but grab at his hair as he pushed himself deeper and deeper in. His nose rubbed against your clit as his tongue continued to prod at your folds and you felt a coil building up in your stomach. He brought his right hand own, letting go of your right leg while pushing your left up higher causing him to hit you at a new angle. That on its own would’ve been a lot but his thumb began to make small circles on your clit. It was too good, and far too much. You barely got out a warning before you were cumming, he stayed put, helping you ride out your high. He pulled away from you with a smile on his face, and wiped his lips before coming up to kiss you. 

As his tongue wrapped around yours you could taste yourself on him, it was embarrassing how much it had turned you on. While he kissed you, he began to fumble with his shorts, getting them pushed down and then kicking them off to who knows where. 

“Is it ok if we go all the way? It’s totally fine if not-” You cut him off by kissing him and claw at his boxers. He laughs into the kiss as gets them off and for the second time in your life, Clark Kent has left you speechless. He’s big, really big, I-dont-even-know-if-it’ll-fit kinda big, but you’ve never backed down from a challenge. 

“Can you law down f’me? I read somewhere that I have to get you ready for it first”

You laugh at that, imagining him trying to fund a website that gives sex tips. You oblige, laying down as he covers his fingers with some of his spit before bringing them back down to your enterance. He starts off with one finger, it's a stretch, but after a while he adds another, then another, he slowly scissors you open and after a few minutes you’re ready. He asks you if you’re sure one more time as he lines himself up. After you tell him again, smiling “yes, i’m sure” he begins to push in slowly.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. For the first few minutes you thought you were gonna be ripped in half, Clark made sure to rub circles on your clit, and kissed your face as you adjusted inch by inch. Soon enough, you’ve taken all of him and you give him the ok that he can move. 

And move he does. He starts softly, his arms are at either side of your head and he thrusts softly in and out. He begins to pick up the pace and your back starts to arch. It feels so good, it's like your whole being is wholly consumed by him, he’s everything you want and everything you need. You open your eyes and he’s at your neck, smiling as he presses kisses into it. You feel yourself get closer and he shifts slightly. He’s hitting deeper in this position, his arms holding you up by the hips as his thrusts quicken in intensity. He’s hitting something deep inside you and you can feel the knot building inside you getting tighter and tighter. You manage to get out that you’re close and somehow his speed starts to increase even more. He’s letting out quiet moans and whimpers. Whispers out small praises for you, that you’re “doing so good f/me” and taking him “so well”. It all starts to be too much for you and you reach your arms out, grabbing his face to pull him in for a kiss. He fills you to the hilt and you let yourself go. He follows suit shortly after, smiling and pressing kisses all over your face before gently pulling out. You’re already on the pill so he isn’t as worried as he would’ve been otherwise. 

You both lay tangled together in the back of the truck, the stars reflecting back, forming constellations that you both know like the back of your hand. Neither of you said I love you. Neither of you had to

But god, did you both wish you could.

You guys drive back home. He drops you at yours, walks you to the door before hugging you goodbye. You hear him leave as you close the door.

You go over the next day, you had borrowed one of Clarks writing books to help with some songwriting, and you knew he was going to need it if he started packing. 

Opening the door you saw Martha at the kitchen table, hunched over. As you got closer you made out what she was doing, she was sketching out.. suit designs?

After noticing you she quickly ushers you over, “Come look sweetie, it’s a project. For Clark”

You join her at the kitchen table, helping her with a color scheme. You decide to use the primary colors. You add a cape too, for “pizzaz” 

The night before you both meet for college, you guys hang out in your room. Things aren’t awkward between you two, but you’re holding yourself back from telling him how you feel. You don’t bring up that night, or the suit. 

Before he leaves, he hugs you. Tight, like always. He tells you that you’ll do amazing in Gotham, and that he can’t wait to visit. You smile, telling him that if he doesn’t come see you at least once that you’ll murder him. 

-

You hear about a new hero that’s popped up in Metropolis called Superman a few weeks later. As you’re sitting in your dorm watching the skyline a flash of gold and red streaks across the night sky

It’s just a blur, but it brings a smile to your face anyway

He remembered.

[greenbench]

Reblog daily for health and prosperity