#I personally never understand it... But at least I always tag it and I still end up getting harassed ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 4 months ago

Text

— love language

summary: You and Matt are now dating, but you haven't told anyone. How long will it take your friends to notice?

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: i had this idea after writing goodnight n go (which is technically the first part, but you don't need to read it to understand this). anyways, here's a bunch of fluff

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, matt is a cocky little shit, making out

Things moved on normally, the only thing that had changed in the past month was that you two weren’t just friends but dating.

You didn’t realize it, but you were already quite close to Matt.

Matt chuckled, his arm hooked around yours as the two of you waited in line for coffee. “Really?” He asked sarcastically.

“Ugh.” You elbowed him. “You’re an ass.”

“I’m just saying, what kinda friends have a toothbrush at their place?” He tapped his cane against the floor lightly.

You tilted your head. “Uhhh… pretty sure at one point Foggy had a toothbrush at your place.”

“That he never used other than one time.”

You scoffed, nudging his side again. "Still counts."

Matt smirked. "Does it?"

"Yes, because that means I’m not the weird one here. You just have a habit of letting people leave their stuff at your place."

Matt tilted his head slightly, feigning thoughtfulness. "Interesting theory. Except you’re the only person whose toothbrush has stayed."

You opened your mouth to argue, then paused, realizing he was right. "Okay, fine, but that’s only because—"

"You stay over all the time?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, squeezing your arm lightly before stepping forward to order.

---

Foggy opened the door to Matt’s office. “Hey, did you ever finish the deposition for the Martin case?”

Matt put down the fork to his Pad Thai, leaving it in the Styrofoam container. “Yeah, I did.”

You took the opportunity, snatching the fork from his container and stealing a bite of his Pad Thai. Matt huffed, but you could hear the amusement in it.

"Really?" he murmured.

"You put it down," you said, chewing. "That means it's fair game."

Foggy barely glanced up from the papers in his hand. "She’s got a point, Matt. You know the rules."

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he blindly reached for the fork still in your grip. You dodged, keeping it out of his reach as you took another bite.

Foggy flipped a page. "Anyway, judge pushed the hearing back a week, which is good because it gives us time to go over the new witness statement. Karen’s taking a look at it now."

Matt hummed in acknowledgment, still trying to reclaim his fork. You smirked, shifting slightly in his lap. He retaliated by sliding an arm around your waist, pinning you in place.

"You gonna give that back?" he murmured.

"Maybe," you teased, holding it just out of reach.

Foggy sighed, still not looking up. "If you two devolve into a full-on fork battle, at least take it outside. I don’t need Pad Thai in the depositions."

Matt smirked, finally managing to grab the utensil from your grip. "Noted."

You huffed but didn’t move, resting your elbow on his shoulder instead. "Fine. I got what I wanted anyway."

Matt chuckled, shaking his head as he twirled the fork back into his food.

Foggy snapped the folder shut. "Alright, well, since you two seem busy, I’ll go see if Karen needs help."

"Let us know if you need anything," Matt said easily.

"Yeah, yeah," Foggy muttered, already halfway out the door.

---

Josie’s was loud and crowded as always, but at this point it was like a second home. You were telling Karen about an incident in the lab. “—Levi somehow hooks the string around the sprinkler and pulls. I get an alert on my tablet and rush over to the lab. Turns out, when he pulled the sprinkler, he also pulled part of the main water line. All for a tiny qubit that got stuck on the ceiling.”

Karen snorted, shaking her head. "Please tell me this guy got fired."

"Nope," you said, sipping your drink. "Because technically, it worked. The qubit came loose. He just, y’know… flooded half the floor in the process."

Karen groaned. "God, Stark Industries sounds like a nightmare sometimes."

"You have no idea," you muttered, setting your glass down.

As you kept talking, you felt your shirt strap slide down your shoulder. It wasn’t anything major, just a slight shift, but before you could adjust it yourself, Matt did it for you.

His hand found your shoulder with ease, fingers brushing your skin as he hooked the strap with two fingers and guided it back into place. It was quick, thoughtless, something he’d probably done a hundred times before without even realizing.

Karen barely blinked.

You didn’t think much of it either, continuing on. "Anyway, Levi tried to convince me it was an 'engineering breakthrough' and that 'technically' he proved a new method of remote retrieval—"

"You’re kidding," Karen deadpanned.

"Oh, I wish."

Matt smirked beside you, listening quietly. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, close but not overbearing.

Karen leaned forward, taking another sip of her drink. "So what’d you do?"

You grinned. "Told him if he ever did that again, I’d make sure the next thing he got stuck was his own head in the centrifuge."

Karen burst out laughing. "And let me guess—he immediately backed down."

"Pretty much," you said smugly.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are terrifying sometimes."

"And yet, here you are," you teased, echoing the same words you’d said to him earlier that morning.

Matt tilted his head slightly, smirk deepening. "Guess I have a thing for danger."

Karen rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. She was too used to the way you two interacted, and nothing about tonight seemed different from any other night.

---

“You didn’t have to come.” Matt murmured, as your hands combed through his hair. “It’s just a mugging case.”

“And yet,” you pulled your hands away. “You were goin’ to walk in there with hair like that.” You gave him a grin. “I helped you devil boy. Oh, wait.”

You pulled his red-lensed glasses off before cleaning them with your shirt. Matt huffed, tilting his head slightly. "You know, most people don’t manhandle my things without permission."

"Most people aren’t me," you shot back, flipping the glasses open and sliding them back onto his face.

Matt’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue.

Foggy sighed from beside you. "How do you two have time for this while standing outside a courtroom?"

Karen smirked, arms crossed. "Multitasking."

You grinned. "Exactly. I’m helping him and annoying him at the same time."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really do take your job seriously."

"Obviously."

Before Foggy could reply, the courtroom doors opened, and the previous case let out, lawyers and reporters filing into the hallway. The four of you straightened slightly as Matt rolled his shoulders, settling into courtroom mode.

"Alright," Matt murmured, adjusting his tie. "Let’s get this over with."

You reached out instinctively, running a hand down the front of his suit, smoothing the fabric. "You’re good."

Matt caught your wrist before you could pull away, his thumb brushing over your pulse for just a second longer than necessary. “You going to stay?”

“Yep. I’ll be sittin’ in the front row looking pretty.”

Foggy snorted. "Sittin’ pretty? That’s your plan?"

"Someone’s gotta balance out Matt’s whole intimidating blind lawyer thing," you teased, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

Matt smirked. "Intimidating, huh?"

"You know what you do," you muttered, patting his chest once before stepping back.

Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, let’s get in there before we miss the good part."

The courtroom was already filling up when you and Karen slipped into the front row, Matt and Foggy making their way to the bench. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning back slightly as you pulled your phone from your bag, muting notifications.

"You know, sometimes I forget you don’t actually work for them," Karen mused, watching as you settled in.

You glanced at her. "Why?"

Karen shrugged. "You’re here so often, always involved in their cases, bringing them food, making sure Matt doesn’t walk into court looking like he just crawled out of a dumpster—"

"Hey," you cut in. "I don’t make him look good. He just listens to me when I tell him to fix his tie."

Karen smirked, tilting her head. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes, looking toward the front of the courtroom. Matt and Foggy were talking in hushed tones, Foggy flipping through a stack of papers while Matt leaned slightly toward him, nodding at something he said.

Karen was still watching you, but you ignored her.

The judge entered, and the room settled as the proceedings began.

---

The hearing wasn’t long, but it was long enough for you to notice Karen sneaking glances at you every so often. You didn’t say anything, keeping your focus on the case.

Matt and Foggy handled it well, as expected. You knew Matt’s confidence in the courtroom was unmatched, and even though you couldn’t see his eyes behind the red lenses, you knew he was completely locked in, analyzing every shift in the judge’s tone, every heartbeat in the room.

By the time the judge adjourned the hearing, you were stretching slightly, rolling your shoulders as you stood.

Matt and Foggy approached, gathering their things. "Well," Foggy said, stuffing papers into his briefcase. "That went about as well as it could’ve."

Matt hummed in agreement. "We should have a decision in a few days."

Karen exhaled. "That was exhausting to watch, so I can’t imagine how you two feel."

Matt smiled. "Used to it."

You reached out, fixing the fold of his pocket square before he could tuck his cane under his arm. "You did good."

Matt turned his head toward you slightly, smirk playing at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed. "Yeah, Murdock. Try not to look so smug about it."

Foggy raised a brow, gaze flickering between the two of you for a second. Karen, too, was watching, something unreadable in her expression.

Neither of them said anything.

"Alright," Foggy finally broke the silence, snapping his briefcase shut. "Lunch? Please? I need food after all that legal jargon."

"Agreed," Karen said.

You nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Matt tapped his cane against the floor once, falling into step beside you. Karen shot one last glance between the two of you but still said nothing.

---

You pulled out an expired container of milk. “Matty, I seriously don’t know how you, of all people, didn’t notice you had 2-week expired milk in your fridge.”

Matt smirked from where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "You think I make a habit of sniffing my milk cartons?"

You made a face, waving the expired container in his direction. "Considering you should be able to smell the rotting dairy in your fridge? Yeah, actually, I do."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, stepping forward as you popped the lid open and took an experimental sniff—only to gag immediately.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, shoving the carton at him. "Smell it. I dare you."

Matt wrinkled his nose, taking a slight step back. "I’ll pass."

"Uh-huh, that’s what I thought." You shut the carton and tossed it in the trash before opening the fridge again. "When’s the last time you actually bought groceries?"

Matt leaned against the counter, lips twitching. "Don’t know. You usually do it for me."

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "That’s not the win you think it is, Murdock."

"I don’t know," he murmured, stepping behind you, hands settling at your waist. "Feels like a win to me."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, lips brushing just behind your ear. You huffed, pushing him back lightly with your elbow. "No, you don’t get to distract me. Your fridge is a disaster."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t let go entirely. "I’ve survived this long."

"Yeah, because I keep you alive," you muttered, pulling out a sad-looking bag of spinach and holding it up for him. "This? This is a crime."

Matt smirked. "Pretty sure I deal with actual crimes for a living."

"You’re so lucky you’re cute." You tossed the bag onto the counter with a sigh. "Alright, that’s it. We’re going grocery shopping."

"You say that like I have a choice."

"You don’t," you said, shutting the fridge and turning in his arms.

Matt smiled, fingers brushing over your hip before he dropped his hands. "At least let me buy you dinner after."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Bribing me with food?"

"Wouldn’t be the first time."

You rolled your eyes, but the smirk you tried to suppress still made its way onto your lips. "Fine. But you’re carrying all the bags."

"Deal," Matt murmured, reaching for his cane.

You grabbed your coat, glancing at him as he adjusted his watch. "And I’m making sure you don’t buy anything that will expire in two days."

Matt chuckled. "Now that’s just cruel."

---

The grocery store was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the kind of late-evening lull where the only customers were people grabbing last-minute dinner ingredients or, in Matt’s case, replacing an entire fridge’s worth of expired food.

You pushed the cart while Matt walked beside you, his hand resting lightly at the crook of your elbow. "Alright, first things first," you said, steering the cart toward the produce section. "You’re getting actual vegetables. Not just things that used to be vegetables before they died a slow, tragic death in your fridge."

Matt smirked. "I resent that."

"You resent having to eat vegetables," you shot back, picking up a head of lettuce and tossing it into the cart.

Matt tilted his head slightly, like he was considering. "That might be true."

You sighed dramatically. "It’s like taking a toddler shopping."

"You did sign up for this," Matt pointed out, casually trailing his fingers over the display of apples as he passed.

You side-eyed him. "Did I? I don’t remember agreeing to supervise you."

"You knew what you were getting into," he teased, reaching past you to grab an apple and setting it in the cart.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, adding a few more. "What else do you need? Other than everything."

Matt hummed, fingers tapping lightly against the handle of the cart. "Bread. Eggs. Coffee."

"Obviously," you muttered, already steering the cart in that direction.

As you walked, Matt’s hand slid from your elbow to your wrist, fingers idly tracing over your pulse before his hand found yours, linking your fingers together like it was nothing.

You squeezed his hand slightly. "If you think holding my hand is gonna distract me from making you buy actual groceries, you’re wrong."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Worth a shot."

"Mm-hmm," you mused, scanning the shelves as you walked. You paused near the coffee aisle, reaching for a bag of Matt’s usual blend.

"That one’s good," Matt said, nodding toward it.

You smirked, holding up a different one just to mess with him. "What about this one?"

Matt tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "That one’s decaf."

Your lips parted in mock surprise. "Wow. Look at that. Guess you do pay attention to your groceries."

Matt exhaled a laugh, leaning in slightly. "I pay attention to you."

Your stomach flipped, but you covered it with an eye roll, tossing his usual coffee into the cart before dragging him toward the next aisle.

---

By the time you made it to the checkout, the cart was full. Probably more food than Matt had ever willingly bought for himself.

"You’re never gonna finish all this," he mused as you unloaded onto the conveyor belt.

"You will if you actually cook," you shot back. "And don’t tell me you can’t. I’ve seen you do it."

Matt smirked, handing the cashier his card before you could stop him. "Guess I have no choice now."

You squinted at him. "That sounds suspiciously like a challenge."

Matt tilted his head. "Maybe it is."

You grinned. "Alright, Murdock. Guess I’ll be the judge of whether or not you can actually cook."

Matt chuckled, grabbing the grocery bags as the cashier finished bagging them. "I did offer to buy you dinner."

You crossed your arms. "I thought we were talking restaurant dinner, not Murdock’s Mystery Kitchen dinner."

Matt smirked, shifting the bags in his hands. "I never specified."

You rolled your eyes but reached out, grabbing a couple of bags from him. "Fine. But if you burn anything, I’m taking over."

"Noted," Matt said, leaning in just slightly. "But I wouldn’t underestimate me, sweetheart."

You huffed, shoving a bag at him before walking toward the door. "We’ll see about that, devil boy."

---

“Where’s my shirt? You know, the soft blue one with a star embroidered on it?”

Matt, who was sitting on the couch, fingers tracing a braille legal document, tilted his head. “…Where are your clothes?”

“My—that’s what I’m asking you.” You replied, hands on your hips, leaning against his bedroom door.

Matt’s lips twitched, setting the braille document down on the coffee table. He turned his head slightly, his attention fully on you now. "You’re asking me where your clothes are?"

"Yes, Matty." You sighed, crossing your arms. "I took a shower, and now I can’t find my damn shirt. The soft blue one? The one with the star embroidered on it?"

Matt hummed, pushing himself up from the couch, his movements slow, deliberate. "And you think I did something with it?"

"You have a habit of stealing my clothes," you pointed out. "So yes, you’re my prime suspect."

Matt smirked, stepping toward you. "Interesting accusation, sweetheart."

You didn’t flinch as he closed the distance, his fingers barely brushing along your forearm, trailing up to your shoulder before settling against your jaw.

"You’re not wearing any clothes."

You rolled your eyes. "I am wearing clothes. Just not the ones I want."

Matt exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head slightly. "Bra and underwear don’t count."

"Tell that to every guy who’s ever seen a Victoria’s Secret ad," you muttered.

Matt grinned. "Is that what this is? A show?"

You huffed, lightly swatting at his chest. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, echoing your words from earlier, his fingers still lazily tracing the edge of your jaw.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t pull away. "Are you gonna help me find my shirt or not?"

Matt’s lips twitched. "I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to walk around like this."

You scoffed. "Matty, if I wanted to walk around half-naked in your apartment, I would. I don’t need an excuse."

Matt grinned. "Good to know."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back. "So are you gonna help or—"

Before you could finish, Matt turned toward his dresser, fingers trailing over the top before he grabbed something and held it out.

Your missing shirt.

Your jaw dropped. "You knew where it was this whole time?"

Matt shrugged. "You left it here last week. I thought it was mine."

You squinted at him. "Since when do you own a soft blue shirt with a star embroidered on it?"

Matt smirked. "I don’t, but you leave your stuff here so often, I figured it was fair game."

You snatched it from his hands. "Unbelievable."

Matt huffed a laugh, crossing his arms. "You gonna put it on, or do I get to keep enjoying the view?"

You shot him a look, but the heat in his voice sent something warm curling in your stomach. You turned away, slipping the shirt over your head, and when you glanced back, Matt was still smirking.

"Happy now?" you muttered.

Matt hummed, stepping closer again. "Not yet."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, catching your chin between his fingers before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his smirk deepened. "Now I’m happy."

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It was late at night when Matt convinced you to stay. Foggy and Karen were out of the office for the night, leaving just you and Matt doing your separate work.

The office was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of paper and the distant hum of the city outside.

You were perched on Matt’s couch, cross-legged, a set of blueprints spread across your lap while he sat at his desk, reading over a case file. Neither of you spoke, lost in your own work, but there was a comfortable ease to it.

"Are you even getting anything done over there?" Matt asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You didn’t look up. "Are you?"

He hummed. "I was. Until I realized how unfair this is."

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. "What’s unfair, Matty?"

"You get to sit all comfy on my couch, while I’m stuck here, hard at work."

You snorted. "Hard at work, huh? I didn’t realize whining counted as work."

Matt pushed his chair back, standing slowly. "I think I deserve a break."

You barely glanced up. "Then take one. I’m actually doing something productive."

Matt made his way toward you, hands in his pockets. "Are you?"

You narrowed your eyes, lifting a brow. "Yes. Unlike some people, I have deadlines to meet."

Matt hummed, stepping in front of you. "And yet, you’re still here. With me."

"Because you asked me to stay," you reminded him, flipping a page. "You coerced me."

Matt smirked. "Did I?"

"Yes, you—hey!"

In one swift motion, Matt plucked the blueprints from your lap and set them aside. Before you could protest, he leaned down, hands bracketing your sides as he caged you against the couch.

"Take a break with me, angel," he murmured.

You exhaled, glaring up at him. "You are so—"

Whatever insult you had lined up died in your throat as Matt leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw. His lips brushed over your pulse, deliberate, teasing.

"Annoying?" he murmured.

You swallowed hard. "Distracting."

Matt grinned against your skin. "Mm. I’ll take that."

Your fingers curled around his tie, tugging slightly. "You are so lucky I like you."

Matt chuckled, dipping his head until his lips were just barely grazing yours. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You closed the distance, kissing him properly.

Matt exhaled against your lips, deepening it immediately. His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You barely noticed when he guided you backward, until the edge of his desk dug into your lower back.

"Matty," you murmured between kisses.

"Mm?"

"I thought we were taking a break."

"This is my break," he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat.

You huffed a quiet laugh, threading your fingers into his hair. "Productive."

Matt grinned against your skin, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. "You’re the one distracting me, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. His lips trailed back up, capturing yours again in a kiss that left your head spinning.

Neither of you noticed the sound of the front door opening.

At least, you didn’t.

Matt either didn’t hear it, or—more likely—just didn’t care.

"Hey, Matt, I left my phone—"

Foggy’s voice cut through the air like a record scratch.

You froze.

Matt, however, barely reacted. His lips left yours just enough for him to let out a quiet sigh—like he was annoyed—before pressing one last kiss to your jaw.

"Should’ve knocked, Fog," he murmured.

Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t dare turn around. Foggy, for his part, just stood there. Silent. Karen was the one to break it. "Uh."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back against the desk. "Jesus Christ."

Matt still didn’t move. He just turned his head slightly in their direction. "You left your phone?"

Foggy blinked. "Yeah." A beat. "But now I kinda wanna leave it here forever."

Karen coughed, her voice tight with suppressed laughter. "Should we leave?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

Matt just smirked. "You could, but I doubt you will."

Karen cleared her throat. "Y’know what? I suddenly really need a drink."

"Yeah, me too," Foggy muttered, grabbing his phone off the desk and speed walking toward the door.

Karen cast one last glance between the two of you, shaking her head before following. The second the door shut behind them, you finally shoved Matt away.

"You knew they were coming, didn’t you!?"

Matt grinned, shrugging. "You said it yourself—I have a habit of coercing you."

You gaped at him. "Murdock."

He just leaned in again, lips ghosting over your ear. "You gonna finish what you started, angel?"

Your face burned. "I started!?"

Matt chuckled, nudging his nose against yours.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, still flustered.

"And yet," Matt murmured, smirking, "here you are."

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon · 1 year ago

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@nightofnetter Excuse me, I know I get this question all the time, as well as (abled-bodied) people just thinking that I must be aroace, or even, as insufferable Big Name Fan petitprincess1 would say, "mentally disabled", by default because I'm wheelchair bound which means I face like, real oppression and have more pressing issues in my life to worry about than obsessing over fanfiction for a show that I don't even like, but I'm reblogging the entire wasted tangent that I guess if you're ableist, (which I'm guessing that you are, judging by the obnoxious moving gif that could cause actual serious physical harm to someone in your header) you could say that your whole rant that I didn't need to see anyway has fallen on deaf ears here, but I've decided to reblog with full context (despite you trying to hide it like I wouldn't notice) in order to publicly humiliate you anyway, because I think I'm going to genuinely enjoy being the one asking these very same questions that have been asked of me for years, for once.... Um, so, like.... I know that you're obviously not okay right now so I'm not going to ask that... But like... I'm not sorry because just like... What the genuine ever loving fuck is the matter with you? What the fuck happened to you? And what the fuck is wrong with you?

First of all, if you don't even like the show that much, then stop reading the fanfiction and leave the fandom and you can remove all of the posts pertaining to it from your blog, including mine. Nobody needs anymore obnoxious fantis here, and if I were you I would just go ahead and have your blog be deleted all together.

Second of all, and again, the only thing here that's truly harmful is the fact that you have a tacky moving gif as your header that may cause people with certain sensitivities to have actual seizures...

Like, is that ... Cop? In your obnoxious moving gif header that could cause seizures, also having a seizure? ... Were you having a seizure when you wrote that huge wall of text in the tags of my own post thinking that I wouldn't catch it and reblog in full for everyone else to see just to make sure you know that I hate you? I would assume that you were having your own little seizure on my post just then, all things considered.

Thirdly, I wasn't going to bring this up because I hate minors being in this fandom (and I do hope for your sake that you're at least not one):

But this video made by a lovely 25 year old ace in the fandom showcases the fact that terminally online aroaces just like you have been harassing and bullying aces just like her for using fiction to experiment with and figure out their own sexuality and where they might fall on the ace spectrum and she talks about as well as provides evidence for the fact some of the people using Alastor to help figure themselves out also happen to be aroace minors who are being bullied, harassed and policed by militant aroace weebs just like you and while I don't necessarily approve of minors being in this fandom at all I do think it's very sad so I wanted to just show at least the thumbnail of this video to prove that it exists and it's not only the "acephobic" allosexuals (is that how you say it?) that think your behavior has passed obnoxious and annoying at this point and that you need to stop with this shit. Right. Now.

Aroaces like you are the only ones causing such harm and isolation in this fandom (aside from like, all of the general harm and isolation genuine fans have faced for just daring to try and spread joy for our little show out in the open or even speak about it in any kind of more "public" way, which is the kind of the exact sour vibe you're contributing to by just making an almost immediate disclaimer. on a fan post. about how you need people to know how you're already 'not that much a hazbin fan' which like... Your opinion on the show is one that I didn't *NEED* to know at all? And on my very genuine hazbin fan post. Like, what the fuck man I already don't care?!) and maybe this is the reason why nobody likes you.

Now kindly delete your whole blog, including your reblog of my post, and fuck right the Hell off.

~As a cripple~ (keep my reclaimed slur out of your rabid arse little bat mouth) I just want to add one more thing: That I was only ever able to see a doll like me repped in Barbie Movie TM at least once and for a mere split second of screentime before she was shipped the fuck off to the doll hospital, locked away, never to be seen again, isolated from her peers forever, and you know Becky couldn't have shit in Barbie's little aroace Dreamhouse because her wheels couldn't fit in there anyway, she just wasn't able to fit in and they didn't want to address that the house itself wasn't accessible to her which is why she wasn't included in Abled-Bodied Barbie Land, so it's no wonder why she'd rather go to Hell with Bild Lili and share more than a smile with The Radio Demon and have her Service Deer push her around all she wants 'cause I guess she's a little bit more of a Bratz Ghoul now ... ;)

And I think you are the type to block evade, so I'll be warning you right now that if you don't accept you're blocked and you try to make contact with me or my posts again, I will just have to kill you, again! 💀🔪🩸

Okay the way they're being playful with Alastor's aceness like he doesn't even know what it is? Is so good!

Still fluid and open to interpretation, meaning people can still ship him! 💀🌹

#Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hypocritical #undescribed #luna replies to people #Alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin #hazbin alastor #the radio demon #radio demon #ace discourse #Will always continue to be like the only valid queer discourse to me now if you people keep acting like this get a grip ...#I personally never understand it... But at least I always tag it and I still end up getting harassed ...#'Sex in movies and fiction is HARMFUL!!!!' said the #ableist #with the moving gif header ...#Like no it's not go outside and connect!!!!#Like if Al actually knew what being #aroace #meant (if he was REAL) he wouldn't want to share a community with any of you but especially not people who already kind of hate his mom ...#that was a joke about Viv lol ...#speaking of which ...#fanti #fantis #in the wild are so fun to deal with ... NOT! :)#Get the fuck out of the fandom already I said it before but nobody wants you!!!!#There are currently some asexual adult critiques outside of the fandom that make discussing aro/arep in media their whole job and they don'#even think Al explicitly *COUNTS* as aroace rep as he's written right now but I don't think that some of you are actually ready for that #conversation to be shared and I can tell you *right now* after all this I'm not ready to post it ...

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c1phra · 3 months ago

Note

Hugo relationship headcanons... please..... feed the starving........

... ❝ RELATIONSHIP HCS! ❞ ft. hugo x reader

𝒾. ⠀FEATURING : an assortment of headcanons about your relationship with hugo!

꒰ contents ꒱ mild spoilers for hugo's backstory i guess? gn!reader. fluff. headcanons. wc : 1052

꒰ notes ꒱ HIII ANON!! thank you for the request hehe i hope this is to your liking, i'm still getting a grasp on his character :")) + @rainswept hugo tag <3

a relationship with hugo is not easy. not at first, at least.

despite his collected exterior, the scars of his past still sting when pressed, and it's a pain not easy to ignore, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he has healed. it takes a while to allow himself to open up enough to begin the relationship in the first place, let alone let his guards fall, one by one...

but he'll manage. he's nothing if not resilient; give him time, patience, and the chance to ask you out himself, and he will be the most attentive lover you've ever had.

it starts with the classic: flowers, a huge bouquet that takes two hands to hold, and a box of chocolates. he's calm when he's handing them to you, his voice even as he spits out the confession speech that took hours in the mirror to prepare, but his mind is going haywire, worrying about whether it's too much, too soon. maybe he should have stuck with just the chocolates after all, or even just a smaller bunch of roses, or something else entirely—

he's thankful you don't let him languish in his thoughts for too long, cutting off his overthinking with a simple “yes.” it takes all he can to restrain himself from breaking out into relieved laughter at your response.

it's all history from there. when you're with hugo, nothing is ever boring; he'd consider it a personal affront for his beloved to be disinterested when they're out with him. no matter what you're doing, be it an extravagant day out, or quiet night in, there's always something to look forward to.

the more elaborate dates are what he leans towards in the beginning, as a means to impress you—dinners at the most high-end restaurants, and tours of art galleries—but it's the simple ones where he truly shines. when all of the grandeur and showiness is melted away, when it's just the two of you curled up under a weighted blanket with some trashy rom-com playing in the background, that's when he truly feels at home.

at the start of the relationship he's careful with his affection. even the most innocuous gestures are subtle tests, experimenting to see what you are and aren't comfortable with. pet names are one of the first things he tries out, a genuine “darling,” or “sweetheart,” slipped into the teasing, overly sappy “honey-pie,” and “snookums.”

when it comes to physical affection though, he tends to be... flighty.

a part of it is the natural touch-starvation that comes with being deprived of gentle touch for so long, but another is the fact that he simply doesn't know how to respond to it. it's not that he's opposed to the feeling, he simply prefers to be the one to touch you, to ensure he keeps some level of control over the situation.

it makes it easier. safer. if he knows if and when it happens, he doesn't have to worry about the instinctual recoil that happens whenever you suddenly grab his arm, or the overwhelming swell of emotion in his chest when you kiss his cheek. after a while, the instinct starts to dull, but it never quite ceases fully.

in any case, he doesn't stop you from touching him, (he doesn't know if he could bring himself to, even if he wanted to) but he favours the touches that he's warned about beforehand. ask for a kiss, and he'll never refuse; motion for a hug, and his arms will be open and waiting.

he tends to mirror what you like; every touch—even the ones that seem casual—is another test of what you're receptive to. once he's satisfied with his understanding of your boundaries, your wants and needs, he's more than happy to indulge you—no matter how much or how little you like.

one thing he does like is when you're walking together, he enjoys having you hold his arm, instead of his hand. it feels so much more intimate somehow, having your hands linked through his arm. he can't help but glance over at you every few seconds, a wide grin breaking over his face as he realizes how lucky he is.

hugo is extremely perceptive to how you feel, almost scarily so. there's no use trying to hide anything from him. surprises, secrets, suppressed feelings, he notices it all. if there's an issue in your relationship, he doesn't let it linger; he sits you down and confronts it together.

and if you're having problems of your own, he's also there to help. he might be slightly overzealous with helping you fix whatever you have going on, but he's more than willing to just listen if that's what you need. either way, he can't stand the idea of you keeping something to yourself when it's clearly troubling you.

somehow, despite his directness when it comes to resolving conflict, the first “i love you,” takes a while. it's a difficult sentence for him to muster up, even if it's been months since you got together. in a way, it's the weight of it that holds him back. speaking it aloud

so he saves it for a moment that seems casual, perhaps to steel his nerves slightly, or to simply soften the blow. it happens when you're half asleep, mid-way through your nightly routine. he's on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he pauses by you in the bathroom, kisses your temple and whispers an “i love you,” into your hair.

in fact, you're so tired that you don't even notice it at first, simply humming in response as he ducks out of the room. it's a few seconds later when the words finally process, and you almost drop the toothbrush in your hand.

what follows is you dashing to the kitchen to confront him, a flurry of questions on your lips. he's frustratingly impassive with his responses, an air of forced calmness about him, as if he hadn't just shocked your entire system. the bewilderment on your face is amusing to a degree, but there's an anxiousness that accompanies it; one that doesn't ease until he hears those sweet, four words that he's been craving ever since the day he asked you to be his.

“i love you too.”

©c1phra 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

#₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ mari's writing #—stellaronhvnters.#zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #hugo x reader #zzz hugo x reader #hugo vlad x reader #x reader

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street-smarts00 · 1 year ago

Text

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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starkenobi · 2 months ago

Text

HERO 4 HIRE | Chapter One { nice to meet ya }

masterlist — the pitt x avengers crossover masterlist

Pairing: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x former avenger!reader.

Summary: There's a new regular in The Pitt, a woman prone to stumbles and misfortunes. She always comes when her wounds need stitching and wearing fading bruises, to the point Robby's getting worried. Until her face is all over the news: former avenger tears down crimelord and political connections.

tags: strangers to lovers; violence; injuries; mature; romcom.

a/n: got a bit carried away with the drama, but I hope you guys enjoy this first part! oh, and a special thank you to @jupitersmoon167 for helping me choose reader superhero name!

word count: 4.9k.

— this fic is dedicated to my bestfriend @faethbees luv ya 💜

You showed up one morning, in the quiet period between chaos and the first wave of people from the waiting room. Whitaker came closer to the nurses’ station to find Robby, a worried expression on his face and asking for help evaluating a case. There’s something off, he whispered, don't think she's telling the truth about how she got hurt.

Entering the room, Robby came face to face with a dislocated nose, a cut on the eyebrow, a busted lip and hand with scratches. Adding the old purple bruise in the right eye, it was hard to believe a word you said. A clumsy person that's trying to make big on the fighting ring. It was odd, but they couldn't do much. You were lucid and calm, despite the tiredness, you didn't show any behavior that could confirm their suspicions. So they discharged you like any other patient, quickly forgetting what happened.

Until you showed up again two weeks later.

With a new black eye starting to swell and bruised knuckles.

Then just two days later.

Bruised ribs and a concussion.

And then again one week later.

Sprained foot, bloody knuckles and bloody mouth.

After almost four months of collecting small injuries that required at least three stitches, you officially became a new regular. And with each passing day, Robby became even more worried. To the point where he started thinking about you even outside of his work hours.

He went to work every day wondering if he would find you still alive on his next shift.

The worst part? It seemed like only he cared about your wellbeing, struggling to maintain a professional approach while you kept flirting with him. You were friendly, an extrovert, almost like an orange cat – not a golden retriever, there was a dangerously craziness energy in you, not a silly playful one.

You always showed up around the same time, between the waves of patients, sometimes even carrying a bag full of food for the ed team – something Robby could never understand how you could get it. Other times, you brought coffee especially for him, followed by a ‘you’re the only one, handsome’ or something like ‘just a thank you for your magic hands last time’.

So you talked and flirted, and seemed to quickly know everyone within the department. You gossiped with Perlah and Princess as if you were long-time friends. Even Myrna knew who you were and had a special scandalous nickname for you (Baby Maso).

You were everywhere, but no one seemed to know any deep information about you or your life.

You were an enigma.

A puzzle he couldn't figure out.

A beautiful riddle that he wanted to get his hands on and solve.

Sometimes he had to fight the desire to shut you up with a kiss.

And that's a big damn problem.

“Your Rocky Balboa is here," Jack said as a greeting when he saw Robby approaching.

Robby sighed. "How bad is it this time?"

"Well, stitches on forehead, stitches on right cheek, stitches on left arm, stitches for a stab in the hand. And one dislocated right shoulder.” Jack enumerated. "I must say, looks like gang shit, brother."

Nodding slowly, Robby sighed again. "I know, but the police disagree."

Jack looks at him with raised brows. "For real?"

"Yeah, some detective came here. I reported her on the second visit, y'know?" Robby rubbed his face, already feeling tired and his shift hadn't even started yet. "The detective took her, said he'd keep an eye on her. Then, when I called him again, he said she was telling the truth and just to patch her up."

"Not at all suspicious." Jack whistled low, then got his backpack and threw over his shoulder. "Alright, I'm out. She's on her usual spot, sleeping."

Robby nodded, sighing for a third time. "Thanks, brother. Rest well, see you later."

He slowly made his way to the nurses' station, Dana nodded her head pointing somewhere behind her.

"Don't even bother going to see her. She's gone."

Robby blinked at her slowly. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, Whitaker went there to offer coffee and found the bed empty." Dana said, a knowing smile on her lips, sliding a paper towards him. "She left this, though."

Grabbing the piece of paper, Robby looked for a long moment, then looked to the ceiling as if he would find the answers there.

'See you soon, handsome. I'll bring coffee next time.'

You showing up during the night shift for the first time was a sign from the universe that Robby didn't catch. The following visits to the Pitt were before sunrise, and your injuries got progressively worse.

And whatever you were doing was starting to get to you. Emotionally and psychologically, as if physically wasn't enough. It was easier to notice your exhaustion, like you didn't get a chance to relax properly for just one minute.

“I'm telling you, man, I saw her somewhere before.” Shen insisted, after the ninth time you crashed into the night shift. “I think I've heard her voice on the news.”

Ellis rolled her eyes. “Why would she be on the news?”

“Dunno, can't remember.” Shen shrugged, attention returning to bed 13, where Jack was stitching you up. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah, think so.” Ellis answered, a bit of wonder on her face.

“Broken arm and broken fingers? A sprained foot, bruised ribs and several cuts? She's part of a fight club like Brad Pitt.” The younger attending conspired, crossing his arms as he took turns looking at the board and bed 13.

“Dr. Robby is going to flip tomorrow.” Ellis stated.

That night, Jack thought for a fleeting moment to report you again. Worried about what you got yourself into, but mostly important, worried about the effect you had on Robby's life. In the end, he didn't call anyone. Not even Robby. He let you sleep once again, waking you up before the day shift came. At least, both of you agreed that sometimes Robby didn't need to see how in bad shape you were.

Smiling in gratitude, you walked out silently and disappeared discreetly. No hesitation, even with all your injuries. Jack knew that kind of walk, that kind of behavior. He's seen this before, and deep down he wished to be wrong.

You were back to the ER two weeks later, during the day shift. It was a curse and a blessing. Limping, the cast on your arm shattered, busted lip and a nose bleeding. Dana was the first to notice you, but Princess was the quickest to move to search for Robby.

“Welcome back to the living hours, darling.” Dana greeted, meeting you halfway and turning you to room 8. Her trained eyes quickly evaluated you from head to toes. Nodding to herself, the charge nurse declared, “Robby will be here soon.”

You frowned. “Can't you call, I dunno, Samira?”

“No can do,” Dana shrugged. From where she was standing in the doorway, she could see Princess pointing in her direction and soon Robby was striding over with a worried expression on his face. “Your doctor is already here.”

“Dana, please-”

The charge nurse ignored your call and left you behind, with no time or route to escape, soon enough you were staring into a pair of sad brown eyes. You don't say anything, keeping your mouth shut for the first time since meeting him. Robby let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. Then his eyes roamed over your body, categorizing each wound by priority level.

“Dr. Santos, since you're here, get the necessary supplies to take care of the patient.” Robby ordered, his eyes still locked on you.

You arched an eyebrow, surprised for not having noticed the younger woman's silent approach, but incapable of breaking Robby's stare. Without saying anything, he stepped closer and reached for your face. His touch was gentle, tilting your face to assess the bleeding from your nose.

“Does it hurt?” Robby asked quietly.

His somber expression made you swallow your sassy comment, and whisper cautiously, “No, not anymore.”

He nodded, but you knew he didn't believe you. Robby shifted his eyes lower, narrowing as he noticed the rip in the right thigh of your cargo pants. “And your leg?”

“Fell down funny, but nothing broken or needing stitches.” you answered trustfully, holding back the need to shrug because you knew Robby wouldn't appreciate it.

Letting his hands fall off your face, you instantly missed his touch and warmth. Robby stepped back when Santos returned to the room. He watched the intern arrange the material and put the gloves on, then turned away, declaring a simple, “Dr. Santos, let me know when you finish her treatment. I'll see how the others are.”

“This was as good as a trainwreck,” Santos stated bluntly.

You snorted humorously. “I shouldn't have come.”

Santos didn't comment right away, choosing to wipe the blood from your face. When you were clean and she deemed the bleeding had actually stopped, she muttered closely. “He's always worried about you, y'know? At least when you come, he's sure you're still alive.”

You didn't need to ask her who she meant, it was clear enough. And it made you feel guilty for creating such a deep bond with him. At first, it wasn't anything, just you being silly and trying to distract yourself a little in the middle of the chaos you were in. Of course things quickly changed, there was a spark and connection. You felt greedy coming to The Pitt to get a little dose of Robby. Maybe you were being only selfish in the end.

A voice startled you from your thoughts. “Why can't you listen to me for once, troublemaker?”

Your head snapped towards the voice at the same time Santos turned around. Leaning on the doorframe was the detective responsible for you. You groaned. “Francis, what are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Take a guess, silly.”

“He called you?” you shouldn't feel offended nor sad about the fact, but something inside you didn't like it one bit.

Santos whistled. “Trainwreck.”

You looked incredulously at her. The intern didn't look back, focusing on renewing the cast on your arm.

“He wasn't ratting you out, in fact, he asked me why I wasn't doing my job properly.” Clint had the audacity to snicker, but composed himself after seeing your glare. Clearing his throat, he stated. “I'll give you a ride home.”

Saluting with two fingers, Clint walked away, probably to make a fool of himself to the nurses.

Nine minutes later Robby was back. An unreadable expression on his face and gloved hands. He watched Santos finish the cast on your arm in silence. A tall imposing figure at her back. And when she moved to see your thigh, Robby stopped her.

“Dr Mohan needs help to speed up the treatment of the patients.”

Santos opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but decided against it in the end. Nodding, she glanced at you before leaving in hurried steps.

There's a short pause.

“Do you want me to take off my pants, doc?”

“Jesus Christ,” Robby exhaled shakily, sliding a hand across his face.

“It's fine, I'm wearing lace.” You said softly, giving him a flirtatiously smile.

Robby squared his shoulders, stepping up and standing dangerously too close. His ears and neck turned red. He warned huskily, “Behave.”

You nodded and stayed quiet. Realizing that you would obey his warning, he checked your thigh with a feather-light touch. Robby sighed after noticing the angry bruise.

“I'm sorry for making you worry all the time,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual.

Robby took a breath, nodding once. His brown sad eyes staring at your soul. “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”

Of course he would ask that. You knew that everyone in that ER pretended to believe in your lie (because they couldn't think of a loophole thanks to Clint coming to rescue you). Unfortunately, you couldn't risk telling him what you were really doing in Pittsburgh. Risk him. It was safer for him to think you were a gang member. Or a lunatic. He'd never survive if he knew the mess you were trying to clean up.

So you decided on a promise, you owned him at least that. “Yes, Michael.”

“But not now.”

“No.”

Not wanting to push, he excused himself. “I'll prepare your discharge papers.”

Robby didn't return with the papers.

Clint was the one to come get you, papers in hand. When you got out of the room, Robby was nowhere to be found. So you accepted defeat with a heavy heart, and left without looking back.

Meanwhile, Robby was sitting alone in the break room, cup full of coffee to try and drown his worries.

“She's gone.” Dana declared as she opened the door, raised eyebrow and a knowing look in her eyes. “Thought you'd wanna know the coast is clear, so you can stop hiding.”

“I'm not hiding,” Robby lifted the coffee he was holding. “See, I'm taking five to recharge.”

“The detective is handsome, right?” Frank joined them at the break room, a little smirk on his lips. “Blonde, fit, husky voice, blue eyes…”

“Came running to her rescue like those movie heartthrobs.” Dana sassed.

“Fuck.” Robby groaned, standing up and swiftly walking between them to get back to work.

Frank called after him, “Just saying!”

Like other times, you didn't come back to the follow-up care. However, Robby felt in his gut something was definitely wrong. The detective didn’t answer his calls, but sent an ominous text saying you were fine and staying low, whatever the hell that meant. The routine in the ER continued, forcing Robby to focus on patients and the chaotic rush of managing residents, interns and students. The worst part was when he was home alone. He tried to drown his thoughts and worries about you with housework and sleep.

You were gone for two months. Robby wasn't sleeping well, he felt like a ticking time bomb. And it got worse with Dana and Jack constantly asking if he was okay. He definitely wasn't. Detective Francis came by once during the night shift, handed over a note signed by you. Robby asked Dana to read it first, his heart clenching in his chest as he waited for the worst. He was always expecting the worst. When he heard Dana laugh, he felt his shoulders slump in sheer anxiety.

'Broke my old phone. And then noticed that I never directly gave my number to you. I'll be quitting my job soon. So let’s go out on a date, okay? I’ll wear something nice just for you.'

You were trouble. So much trouble. You’re gonna be the death of him. But that stupid note made him smile and feel like he was his stupid 20s something all over again. He texted you a simple ‘behave’ and kept smiling for the rest of the shift. Robby didn't even mind Dana and Jack teaming up to make fun of him. He went home making planes, thinking that maybe, just maybe, everything's going to finally work out for him. After almost one year of you turning his mind upside down, he should known better.

Night shift was finally slowing down around midnight, only two patients were staying until morning. Jack was updating the charts while Shen and Ellis bickered over some dumb shit they saw online when the radio crackled to life. Woman with multiple trauma, in her 30s, crashing down. ETA 3 minutes. The team was quickly to move.

Shen and Ellis went outside to help the emts with the victim. Jack stood back to prepare the trauma bay with the rest of the staff. No one was prepared to see you on the stretcher, completely covered in blood, unconscious and at death's door. Jack felt like he had been thrown back to when he was out in the field saving soldiers years ago.

“Bridget, call Robby now!” Jack yelled, his voice hard and determined.

Jack always knew this moment would come, at least it was him taking you to the OR. And he knew that whatever happened there, Robby needed to be here too. Robby would never recover if he wasn't by your side at a critical moment like this. Would never forgive himself. In the mean time, Jack would gladly take the burden of opening your chest, to stop the internal bleeding, search all the bullets, cauterize all your wounds, fix your broken bones, make your heart beat with his own hands. It took hours, but Jack wouldn't lose you at that table.

Robby arrived in the ER like a raging river. Bloodshot eyes, hyperventilating, trembling hands, messed hair. He didn’t hear or see anyone around him, no one was capable of preventing him from reaching the OR. The worst part? He didn’t scream or cry out loud, his legs just gave up right there at the door.

He watched silently as Jack, Shen, Ellis and Walsh worked together with the rest of the team to save you. Rocking back and forth, Robby covered his ears but was unable to look away. There was so much blood. It was as bad as Pittfest, maybe worse, because all that blood covering the floor was just yours.

“Please. Oh, God. Please. Not her too. Not her.” Robby repeated in a weak voice, drowned out by all the chaos.

It wasn't until he came face to face with Jack that he realized you were no longer at the table. He felt all the air escape him, heart in his throat. There was a ringing in his ear, he couldn't understand what Jack was trying to say. Robby closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the nose. Then, he looked into Jack's eyes for answers.

“She’s fine, brother. She’s alive. Breathe. We’ve got her.” Jack repeated over and over, waiting for Robby to come to his senses.

He sucked in a breath, hands clasping on Jack’s shoulders. “She’s safe?”

“Yeah, brother.” Jack nodded, watching him closely. He held Robby by his arms and helped him get up. “We took her to the pedes room, for privacy and safety. She’s gonna stay with us.”

“What the hell happened?” Robby questioned, dragging his hands on his face before looking around the now empty OR.

“I don’t know, man.” Jack shook his head, at loss. Then added, “I asked Shen and Ellis to find out, thought. Let’s get out of here. Wanna see her?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly.

Jack accompanied him to the pedes in silence. When they stopped walking, Jack looked at him carefully. “She’s sleeping now, so stay as longer you need and then meet me at the hub.”

Left alone, Robby took several deep breaths before finally opening the door and getting inside the pedes room. You were right in the middle, lying in bed with an oxygen mask and wires connecting you to the machines. He slowly came closer, standing beside your bed. His eyes analyzed every bruise, every detail. with trembling fingers, he caressed your face and brushed away the hair that had fallen into your face. You were gone for two long months and now you were there. He almost lost you on the same day his heart had filled with hope of having a chance with you. A broken laugh escaped him, the overwhelming turmoil of the situation catching him once again.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Robby whispered wrecked, eyes still wet from all the tears and voice raw of emotion. He leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

He didn’t linger. Opting to search for Jack and get answers. He took one last look at you and carefully closed the door behind him. He found Jack and the others with one of the tv of the hub turned on the news. Frowning, Robby hurried his steps.

'Former avenger member known as Shrike tears down crimelord, and brings to light political corruption and executives connections linked to the growing wave of violence and crime in Pittsburgh. Witnesses at the scene helped the hero who was seriously injured in the aftermath, but no one knows where she was taken. What we know is that Shrike's face is all over social media for the first time after bravely using her helmet to disarm a criminal who was holding a child hostage–'

“Oh Lord,” Robby gasped, the world around him tilting down. He closed his eyes tight, hands supporting his weight on the nurse’s station.

“I knew it!” Shen squealed somewhere behind him, voice full of enthusiasm. “I said I heard her voice on the news!”

“Shut up, Shen.” Ellis elbowed him hard in the stomach. Shen let out a faint grunt of discomfort but fell silent.

Jack came closer, standing beside him and squeezing his shoulder. “She’s gonna be okay, brother.”

“I could have lost her and I wouldn’t have know.” Robby whispered, mind still reeling trying to process all the situation. “All this time I thought-”

“Does it matter now?” Jack tilted his head, trying to make eye contact with his friend, a serious expression on his face. “You can't blame yourself for a disguise she created for safety.”

Suddenly, rushing through the ambulance area, Detective Francis materialized in front of them. No, not detective Francis. Clint Barton, the avenger Hawkeye. He was still dressed in his suit, but he was carrying the famous purple bow and arrows. Robby was glad that the ER had reached a lull, with few patients to witness the situation.

“How is she?” Clint asked, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and squinting his eyes because of the bright light. “Got held up finishing the cleaning.”

“You.” Robby hissed.

Clint raised an eyebrow, scratching his chin unperturbed. “Yeah?”

Jack sighed. “She had surgery and is under observation. She lost a lot of blood, we removed seven bullets. Her right arm was broken in three places, had a deep cut on her temple and head trauma.”

“Well, it could be worse.” Clint nodded, shoulders relaxing. He offered a crooked smile, “She’s had worse, actually. But thank you for taking care of her stubborn ass.”

“He's so cool,” Shen whispered to Ellis, but loud enough to be heard.

Everyone ignored Shen’s comment.

“I'll take you to where she is,” Jack offered, hand pointing to the path in invitation. “I think it's best not to draw any unwanted attention right now.”

“Right.” Clint sighed, starting to follow Jack. Stopping abruptly to face Robby. “For what it’s worth, she took your safety into consideration. It's personal to her.”

The hero then followed Jack's footsteps again, disappearing down the hallway to the most secluded and discreet room in the ER.

Robby let out a shaky breath, leaning forward again, tense shoulders and head in hands. He felt like shit. Emotions and reason at war inside him. He kept repeating in his mind that she's alive, she's alive, she's alive, she’s alive like a mantra. But he remained afraid that he would wake up at any moment and be told that she had died on the trauma table.

Jack found him a few minutes later, at the ambulance entrance, sitting against the hospital wall. Knees close to the chest, arms resting on his legs and hands holding his head. Getting closer, he noticed that Robby had tears on his face, but he wasn't crying desperately like before. Jack stopped beside him, leaning against the wall, and drew in a long breath. Looking at the watch on his wrist, it was already two in the morning.

“She’s awake,” he informed, an incredulous huff escaped him. “The cut on her temple is superficial now.”

Robby snapped his head up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“The little shit has a slight better healing metabolism, according to the hawkguy.” Jack shook his head, still not believing everything that happened. “Not like the crazy dude called dead something, or like Captain America, but there’s something. That’s what he said.”

Throwing his hands up, Robby cursed softly. “It just gets better and better the emotional rollercoaster.”

“Go home, brother.” Jack said, after looking at his friend for a long moment. “Try to rest a bit before your shift.”

Robby nodded once, slowly getting up from the ground. “Yeah, guess I’ll need all the rest I can get.” Glancing at Jack, he smiled faintly. “Thank you for calling me.”

“See you in the morning.” Jack replied, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

Rest was forced due to exhaustion. Robby barely touched the bed and passed out, everything that happened that night catching him as a wrecking ball. Four hours of sleep later, he was re-entering the ED grounds. The place bursting with energy more than normal, night shift and day shift staff completely agitated.

Dana approached him before he could reach the hub, her expression a mix of seriousness teetering on the edge of mischief. “Glad you decided to join us. Your circus has been on fire for too long already.”

Confusion settled onto his features, “I didn't get enough sleep to deal with any shit before clock in.”

“Oh, you're going to want to get involved in this one.” Dana snickered with a smirk. “Pedes room rings you a bell?”

Robby straightens up at that, glancing worriedly at the nurse charge. When she didn’t elaborate, he changed his route. Hurried his steps towards the pedes, throwing his backpack in the locker on the way. Jack was already there, standing at the pedes’ door with Shen and Perlah.

“What’s going on?” Robby asked, worried eyes trying to catch a glimpse inside.

Jack held up a hand to stop him, “She’s awake and has visitors-”

“I should make a birdcage and lock you two in there! That's not being careful!” a male voice boomed inside the room, making Jack fall silent. Despite the volume, the voice sounded more worried and exasperated than anything. “That's why I created your fucking suit, to avoid shit like this!”

“What the fuck?” Robby muttered.

Shen giddly chimed in, “Tony Stark in the flesh, dude.”

“He came from the roof not even twenty minutes ago.” Perlah informed dutifully, arms crossed.

“It's time enough,” Robby muttered.

The door opened suddenly. Tony who was about to leave stopped abruptly. He looked from Jack to Robby, and then Shen and Perlah, before his focus returned to the two senior attendants.

“I’ll be contacting the hospital for a donation to the ED as a thank you.” Tony declared simply, he glanced inside the room towards the bed before fixing Robby with curious eyes. “Take good care of her, that's my only warning.”

Without missing a beat, you hissed behind him. “Tony!”

“That’s my cue, I know the way out.”

And just like that Tony Stark, the famous IronMan, passed like a hurricane. Clint was the next to come to the door, a tired expression on his features. “Thanks again, guys. I’ll be going too for now. Gotta sleep.”

“You were drooling not even half an hour ago!” You retaliated, arms crossed petulantly.

“She’s all yours, man.” Clint said, clapping Robby’s shoulder and ignoring you. He then turned to Jack, “Can you help me gather everyone of the night shift? Wanna know everyone’s names.”

It was obvious why the hero was asking that. So Jack just nodded, and tilted his head for Shen and Perlah to go with him. The four of them quickly left Robby alone with you. He remained rooted in the doorway, staring at you on the bed. Looking breathtaking. As if you hadn't given him a terrible panic attack out of fear of losing you forever before he even had the chance to hold you.

“Are you going to stand there forever?”

You asked, eyes full of vulnerability. He didn’t answer out loud, just crossed the threshold and closed the door. He came closer with careful steps, taking one of your hands into his. You stared at each other in silence, then Robby brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

“Please, don’t scare me like this again.” he pleaded. “I thought I was going to lose.”

You drew a sharp breath. “Michael-”

“I know you had to do what was necessary, sweetheart.” He cut you off softly, kissing the palm of your hand before bringing to his face. “I’m proud of you, don't get me wrong. But you’re important to me.”

“So,” you started, using your hand holding him to tilt his face down towards you, nose brushing against his. “You already know everything?”

“That you’re the amazing Shrike? That I want to know you inside out? Date you? Love you?” Robby whispered on your lips, almost touching. “Yeah, I already know.”

You closed the distance and kissed him, heart fluttering overwhelmed with emotion. His arms held with care, but he kissed you back all-consuming. Months of pent up emotions and tension pouring into the kiss. He licked hotly into your mouth before breaking the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, sighing deeply in contentment.

“What do you think about home-cooked meal on a first date?” Robby breathed, one eyebrow shooting up in amused curiosity.

“If it's you, Michael, then it's perfect.” You whispered sweetly.

“Good, because you’re not leaving my sight anytime soon.”

Your laughter echoed through the room, making Robby smile goofily. Yeah, maybe, just maybe everything's going to finally work out.

Thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜 Let me know what you think! Comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

There's no taglist, but you can follow this story (and the other crossovers) through the tag #avenger!reader x the pitt!

#the pitt x reader #the pitt x avenger!reader #michael robinavitch x avenger!reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #the pitt x marvel #starkenobi writing #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fic #dr robby imagine #avenger!reader x the pitt #avengers x reader #marvel x reader

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woantohae · 5 months ago

Text

Every breath you take || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: After a failed mission, in which Y/N almost drowned trying to keep herself and Bob afloat, the man feels guilty for not being able to save them. Or more like, save her.

Author's note: Did you guys watch the new teaser of THUNDERBOLTS*???? I literally can't stop watching it and I repeat over and over again to find any new detaill of Sentry.

I'm gonna start writing more of Bob Reynolds because it's never enough <33

《tags: fluff, hints of angst, Bob being shy, mentions of drowning, angst, Bob being guilty for what happened》

Lost and insecure.

That's how Bob felt after having caused destruction in New York City. After having been the cause - or having been part of - such chaos that drove the city crazy.

He still didn't fully understand his powers and everything that he and... his other self were capable of. It hadn't been long since Valentina and her followers experimented on him to turn him into their weapon. But when he was able to escape Valentina's perfect varnished nails, he was able to feel a little calmer.

Until he felt the heavy gazes of the rest of the team again.

It wasn't like they did it on purpose to make him feel bad about himself, but they still hadn't forgotten what had happened. Bob knew it would take time to gain their trust and really become part of the group, but he was struggling to do so. He constantly made an effort to make small gestures and actions that showed he was trying hard. But the man always received a smile that was almost polite rather than genuine. He couldn't blame them though, Bob would be like that too if he were in the rest of them's place.

He always kept quiet. When Alexei, Yelena or Bucky spoke to him, he allowed himself to respond. Or when it was time to eat, he usually excused himself by saying that he wasn't hungry, but whenever the rest finished and went somewhere else, he would go to the kitchen, take a plate of food and eat it while silence surrounded him. The silence of the environment, because his head was always making noise.

If they didn't want to include him yet, he would wait. However, even if he didn't realize it, Y/N was always there trying to include him.

The girl didn't feel pity for the man. No, that was not it. She knew what he was going through, because she had also been through something similar, so she could understand him. Besides, there was no point in bringing up the past and blaming Bob for his actions, because every member of the team had done wrong in their past. Even her.

And now it's not like they were doing anything good either.

Y/N was fighting off four men who were trying to stop her. The team was on a mission to infiltrate the mansion of a drug dealer of the Soldier's serum, who was trafficking it to the least suitable people to manipulate it. They had fought and killed many of those who crossed their path to stop him. Staining their hands with blood, something they were already accustomed to.

After Y/N was able to finish off the men, she takes the suitcase with the samples and places the earphone in her ear.

"I already have the samples. We need to move before more of them arrive" she announces as she rushes to run through the hallways until she exits through the courtyard of the mansion.

"Got it. Guys, go to the meeting point" Yelena orders "Alexei will come for you"

"On my way!" The man says.

Y/N adjusts the suitcase in her hands and walks through the backyard that overlooks a large forest. It was obvious that such a person would live as far away from everything as possible to avoid being caught. In the distance she sees Bob waiting for her. They had agreed on this meeting place so that Alexei could come and pick them up in the helicopter. The spot was right on the edge of a cliff so that Alexei could stay in the air when he picked them up and escape as soon as they got into the helicopter. It was quite high from where they were, and as Bob waited he had seen how rocky it was down there and how the waves broke against the rocks in a violent impact.

Y/N comes to Bob's side and smiles at him, moving the suitcase triumphantly.

"I told you it would be easy," she tells him, catching her breath.

Bob, in the splendid Sentry suit, looked at her proudly and shyly at the same time.

"You should have let me go with you. Something could have happened to you," he mentions, looking over the girl's shoulder, in case someone unexpectedly came.

"Worried about me?" she asks amused. Bob blushes "Aww, no one has ever worried about me that much"

He smiles amused and looks away to the sky to see if Alexei is nearby. "Are you sure you want to wait for him? I could carry you in my arms so we can get out of here faster" the man points out, turning to look at her again.

"It's okay. They'll come for us," she points out, and her eyes widen as she sees a man sneak up behind Bob and hit him with a rock. "Bob!"

Y/N rushes to send the man flying away with her powers, while she watches as Bob staggers and falls off the cliff. She drops the suitcase and without hesitating twice, she throws herself after the brown-haired boy, who luckily doesn't fall into the rocks.

Bob falls into the depths of the sea, while Y/N dives right behind him to grab him. As she can, she grabs his arm and tries to pull him afloat, but he's heavier than her, so it's harder than it looks. As soon as she manages to lift him a little and pull him with her, Y/N gets her head out of the water while trying to get Bob's head to face the outside as well.

She tries to stay calm, but the desperation of not touching the ground consumes her. The waves crash against both of them, causing Y/N to start gulping water.

"Yelena...." she tries to speak.

"Y/N..... we are...... guys....." Yelena's voice is heard in her ear.

"We're in the water," she manages to say, before a wave covers them for a few moments.

Y/N clings to Bob's unconscious body, still straining to keep them both out of the water. She feels the tiredness take over every muscle in her body, feeling the temperature of the water freezing her with every passing second. Y/N spits out the water that enters her mouth and looks at Bob, who keeps his eyes closed.

"Please, Bob. Stay with me" she begs, hugging him against her as best she can to stay afloat "Stay with me..."

After that, Y/N closes her eyes.

Y/N opens them still feeling like she's in the sea. But she's relieved to look around the corners of her room.

She sits on the bed and sighs as she listens to the raindrops falling hard outside, feeling at peace for a moment until she remembers the man.

Bob.

Where is him? Is he okay?

These and more questions invade the girl's head.

"Shit" she curses and rushes to remove the sheets from her body, bringing her feet to the floor, but feeling an object that prevents her from moving.

Or rather, the body of a person.

"Ah! Shit!" he complains.

Y/N looks with surprise at the person, freezing in place as soon as she sees that it's Bob, sitting on the floor and removing the blankets from his body.

"Bob? What are you doing sleeping on the floor?" she asks him, kneeling down next to him.

Bob scratches his eyes and then looks at her.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he replies in a low tone, as if he were embarrassed, "after the mission."

She gulps and a small smile curves her lips.

"Are you okay?" she asks, bringing her hand closer to his, but not touching it.

Bob nods.

"I'm sorry" he says suddenly.

Y/N frowns not quite understanding what he's referring to. "What are you sorry about?"

Bob stares at her with guilt flashing in his blue eyes.

"That I couldn't have saved you right away."

She looks down and shakes her head.

"It's not your fault" she lets him know. "We didn't see the guy coming and we didn't know what was going to happen after that either."

Bob closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, starting to feel the pain in his head spreading. He feels the guilt consume him and believes that the team will continue to hate him for what happened. Y/N shakes her head at the thoughts of the man in front of her.

"Stop blaming yourself Bob, no one will hate you for what happened" Y/N intertwines her fingers with his. “I don’t want to see you like this.”

Bob reconnects his gaze with hers, letting her fingers caress his.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” he admits in a whisper. “I’m supposed to be strong and have the power to protect you guys from anything. Protect you from anything, but I.... couldn’t. I was weak.”

She rushes to wrap her arms around him, feeling him hug her tightly, as if she were going to fade away from his arms. Y/N caresses his back, feeling the wool fabric of his blue vest that he wears to sleep. The girl feels him sob on her shoulder, feeling a weight on her heart.

"Bob, it's okay" she whispers.

They spend a little more time hugging each other until Bob calms down a little, still in her arms. When they separate, she puts her hands on the man's cheeks so that he looks at her.

"What happened doesn't make you weak. We can't always save others, but we can let ourselves be saved by others" she tells him softly, under the man's saddened gaze. "It's not your obligation to protect me, but I appreciate that you want to do it."

Bob reimains silent.

She lets out a sigh as she sees that the guilt is still eating him up inside. Y/N makes a face and stands up, being watched by Bob from the floor, with puppy dog eyes.

"Come," she holds out her hand.

Bob frowns slightly and stands up holding her hand. Y/N leads him by the hand until he is in front of her bed, to which he opens his eyes like saucers.

"No, I can't...."

"Bob," she interrupts him.

With her look she seems to tell him that she will not let him continue sleeping on the floor, so he gives up and watches as Y/N lays down, leaving him a space on the bed. Hesitantly, he drops onto the bed and climbs inside, while Y/N covers him with the sheets. Bob gulps and doesn't know where to put his hands or how to position himself so as not to disturb her or make her feel uncomfortable, so the girl takes the initiative and puts her head on Bob's chest, putting an arm around his waist and hugging him. The brunette moves his hands slowly until he hugs her waist as well and feels the warmth of the closeness between them.

Bob prays that the girl can't hear the rapid beating of his heart against his chest, but he knows that's impossible with her so close to his chest. He doesn't care anymore though, because she's in his arms now and in that moment he knows that she's safe.

"I promise next time I won't let anything bad happen to you" he whispers as his eyes gaze out the window and out into the rainy night "I'll be watching you. Always"

She smiles and feels her heart warm at his words.

"I know" she lets him know "I promise you that too, Bob"

And both swear on their souls that such a promise will not be broken.

#fanfic #fluff #angst #marvel #bob reynolds x reader #sentry #sentry masterlist #sentry x reader #bob reynolds

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maddamoiselle · 26 days ago

Text

The Weight of Wanting You

Pairing: Caleb x NonMC!Reader Synopsis: You fell for each other in pixels and whispers—never realizing you had already crashed into each other every day in real life.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, university AU, slow burn( I hope) Author's nonsense : Hahaha, 10k i must be crazy. I hope you'll enjoy. its mostly the bounds getting created. I really need a name for MC. Words: 10k <- Previous Chapter

Chapter IV: The Name I Don’t Know But Feel

Zayne’s voice cut through the speaker.

“I’ll be there in two hours.”

You nodded — you thought you did, at least. Everything felt a little floaty. Your nails pressed into the palm of your hand like it might keep you grounded. It didn’t.

You should feel better. There was the beginning of a plan now. Zayne was coming. You were not alone. You were not alone. His voice should steady you. Should make it easier to breathe.

Then why did your chest feel like it was caving in? But the air in your lungs went tight instead — too full of something. Guilt, maybe. Grief. Or fear. You were not sure anymore.

You heard her voice, still sitting next to you, trying to bring some comfort. Her voice was a bright melody you couldn’t quite follow.

“Oh! Zayne, you're coming here? That’s perfect!”

She was smiling at you like it’s a normal evening. Like dinner was still on. Like the world didn’t just turn sideways.

You nodded again. Smile or something like that.

“Yeah, that’s perfect…” you said before glancing at her. You could see her face, but it was like you couldn't understand what her expression was. “ So, are you all childhood friends? What a coincidence.” You asked them with a shaky laugh, like it was a game. Like you didn’t just find out you’ve been swallowing pieces of your own humanity for years.

“Oh, yeah! We’ve known each other since we were kids. Zayne is a bit older than us and is way cooler than Caleb, no pun intended. Why couldn't Zayne be my fake boyfriend…” she mumbled, making sure Caleb and Zayne couldn’t hear her.

You blinked at her, trying to keep your face light, your voice normal. She was so good at filling the room with warmth — you didn’t want to take that from her.

Caleb answered Zayne with something dry, but you could barely process it. You just register his voice low and steady, and his eyes — trained on you. Not watching the phone. Not looking at his girlfriend– no she said they weren’t in a relationship…

Just… watching you.

Your stomach twisted. You needed air.

You forced a small grin. You leaned back against the wall.

Smile wider.

“To be fair,” you added, voice light, “Caleb’s very convincing. He is sweet and protective of you.”

That got a loud snort from the woman, before she kept talking to you about her relationship with Caleb and Zayne. You knew she just wanted to cover the tension around the new situation but… hearing her talk without stopping was reminding you of your father’s voice.

Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?

“Do you want to eat right now?”

Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?

“ We should wait for Zayne.”

Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?Did you take your pills?

“But I’m sure she is hungry.”

“Eating now might get her sick.”

You were trying to breathe, your smile was still on but you could sense the anxiety growing inside you. Was your life always like this? Were you just someone whose choices were taken away from them? And for what?

“She doesn’t need another person trying to control her.” Zayne’s cold voice echoed from your phone.

Your best friend. The one who never betrayed you. The one who– even with a shift of 12 hours– was going to take a 2 hour ride to come to you.

You stood up gently, taking your phone from Caleb’s, listening to Zayne’s voice calling for your name, saying he will soon be here before hanging up.

And Caleb—

You felt his gaze.

You didn't look at him, but you felt it: steady, sharp, and watchful.

Your skin itched with the pressure of keeping still.

Not here. Not in front of them. Not where they can see.

“Be right back,” you muttered.

You didn’t wait for them to answer but as you turned away, you felt Caleb’s eyes still on you — not confused, not even annoyed. Just...

Focused. Quiet. Suspicious, maybe.

Or maybe he saw more than you wanted him to.

You barely made it.

You sank to the bathroom floor the second the lock clicked. Cold tile kissed the back of your legs, but you hardly felt it.The air feels thinner here, even though there’s more of it. Your lungs couldn’t find a rhythm.

Your hands were shaking.

The echo of your father’s voice wouldn’t stop repeating in your skull — Did you take your pills? Did you take your pills? — each repetition burying itself deeper, until even Pipsqueak’s warm, harmless chatter outside started to sound like him.

Like a command.

Like control.

Like the smile you had forced was no longer yours.

You pressed your knuckles to your mouth, willing the tremor in your breath to disappear.

It didn’t.

You grabbed your phone. Unlocked it.

Your fingers moved automatically — right to Discord. Right to the only person who didn’t know your name, didn’t ask you to be okay, didn’t expect anything from you except the truth you were willing to give.

You opened your thread with him. The last message still sat there, teasing and warm and perfect.

You stared at it a second longer than you meant to.

Then typed.

WindQueen.exe(21;02); i think i’m having a panic attack

You hovered a moment, your thumb shaking. Then tapped send.

That was it. That was all you could say.

You set the phone on the ground beside you, tucked your knees to your chest, and tried to keep your breaths quiet.

You didn’t want them to hear you.

Not her. Not your own self. Not Caleb.

Especially not Caleb.

The floor felt too real beneath you, and your hands didn’t feel like they belonged to you anymore. Your Evol stirred in your chest — faint little flickers of air that danced along your skin like it was trying to comfort you, but you were too raw to feel it properly.

Then—

A ping.

You turned your head, slowly.

The screen lit up with a message.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed is typing...

You barely breathed.

Then, the message appeared:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;02): okay

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;02) stay where you are

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;02) don’t move, don’t answer yet

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;02) just breathe, alright?

Another pause. Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;03); you don’t have to explain it to me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;03); or justify anything

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;03); whatever it is — the weight, the fear, the noise in your chest — you don’t owe me the why

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;03); : you’re allowed to feel

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;04); even if it doesn’t make sense

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;04); even if it makes too much

You could feel tears dripping from your eyes, but you did not dare blink, waiting for his words again.The cursor blinked again. Then another message slid in:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;04); just picture this

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;04); my hand, not holding you down

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); not pulling you forward

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); just… there

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); on the floor beside you

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); steady

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); real

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); here

You didn’t mean to break like this.

You thought maybe you'd cry a little. Maybe breathe it out. Maybe count backwards from ten until the world stopped spinning.

But none of that happened.

Your breath caught in your throat like glass.

And then—

You shattered.

Your hand flew to your mouth too late to catch the sob. It clawed its way out, high and sharp and ugly. Your shoulders shook as you folded in on yourself, head against your knees, knuckles pressed to your lips.

You tried to breathe — slow, like he said — but it came out in broken hiccups. Wet. Harsh. Loud. And still not enough.

The air refused to stay in your lungs.

You were spiraling and floating all at once, the panic dragging its nails down your spine, your chest, your heart.

Did you take your pills?

You’re too much.

You’re not enough.

Don’t cry. Don’t feel. Don’t be difficult.

Your Evol stirred again — not calm this time, but confused. Like even it didn’t know how to help.

You turned your face to the wall and whispered into your knees, voice cracking:

“Please... I just want it to stop.”

Your phone buzzed again beside you.

His messages were still there.

Still here.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); i’m not going anywhere

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); and you’re not alone

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;05); not even close

You fumbled with your fingers — clumsy, wet, shaking — and pulled the phone into your lap.

You couldn't write much. Not like this.

But you wrote something anyway.

WindQueen.exe (21;07); can we go to the tree

WindQueen.exe (21;07); like last time

WindQueen.exe (21;07) ; and just hold hands

WindQueen.exe (21;07) ; not talk

WindQueen.exe (21;07); just that

You hit send.

Collapsed back against the wall, chest still heaving.

It was messy. Desperate. You didn’t care.

You just wanted to feel something solid. Something true.

You just wanted him. Even if you didn’t know his name. Even if he didn’t know yours.

You sat still for a long moment, the phone in your lap, your knees pulled tight to your chest. Your face was sticky with tears. Your mouth felt like paper. Your eyes watched the screen without blinking, waiting—aching—for any sign he was there.

Then—

Ping.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;07); meet me there

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;07); i’ll be waiting

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;07); and i’ll hold your hand as long as you want

You exhaled. Not fully. But it was enough to stand.

Your limbs still trembled as you wiped your face, turned the faucet on low, and splashed cold water against your skin. It didn’t make the ache go away — but it gave you something real to feel.

Your reflection was pale. Red-rimmed. But steadier than it had been. You slipped your phone into your pocket, fingers trailing along the edge of the sink one last time.

Then you opened the door.

And caught Caleb in motion.

He was zipping up his vest, quick, focused, moving like someone who already knew where he needed to be. His hand went for the doorknob, keys already in the other.

He didn’t look at you. Just paused mid-step and muttered, not unkindly:

“I’m heading out. Gonna pick up Zayne.”

You stared, stunned. You looked at the clock before looking back at him.

“Now? He’s still—”

“I won’t be long. Lock the door behind me.”

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut. A breath of wind swept in from the hall before it sealed.

You stood there for a moment longer, frozen.

Then your phone buzzed again.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:18) i’m almost there

Your heart beat once. Hard.

You looked at the door again, Caleb’s footsteps faded down the corridor, fast and steady.

You still stood there, staring. Trying not to feel too much all at once.

meet me there, i’ll be waiting

His words on your screen still pulsed gently in your mind, wrapping around your ribs. You turned toward the living room, ready to slip out the back.

But his pipsqueak caught you.

She leaned against the doorway with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. That same easy energy — always sunshine, always trying to fill the silence.

“Sooo…” she sang. “He never moves that fast unless he’s late for training or hiding snacks.”

You raised a brow, forcing a half-smile.

“Maybe he just really misses Zayne.”

“Or,” She teased, wagging her eyebrows, “maybe Caleb’s got a secret girlfriend somewhere. You know… a real one.”

You reached for your jacket, not really in the mood for gossip about Caleb. The man could run for his soulmate and you wouldn’t even bat an eye.

“I’m heading out for a bit,” you said casually. “Need to grab a few things for Zayne. Something comforting, in case he’s tired when he gets here.”

“Aww,” She beamed. “You’re so thoughtful. Do you want me to—?”

“I’ve got it,” you cut in gently. “Be back soon.”

You slipped past her, the smile still on your lips.

But as soon as the door closed behind you, your heart began to race again.

Because this time, you weren’t going out for some poor reason.

You were going to the tree.

To him.

And you weren’t sure if the ground beneath your feet felt lighter …or if it was just him, pulling you in again like gravity.

You didn’t remember locking the door behind you. You barely remembered the way your hand trembled as it turned the knob, or how the air outside hit your lungs like it had been waiting to remind you that you were still alive.

You just ran.

Down the steps, across the path, past the quiet buzz of late-lit dorm windows — all of it a blur.

The world spun beneath your feet.

Too fast.

Too wide.

Your breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, not quite enough to match the racing in your chest. Your heartbeat echoed between your ears, louder than your footsteps, louder than the rush of wind you hadn’t meant to stir with your Evol.

But it followed you anyway — a protective ripple of air circling you, like it knew you were one second from falling apart again.

You wiped your face with your sleeve without stopping. You couldn’t afford to stop.

If you stopped now, you might not move again.

Your legs burned. Your hands tingled. Your thoughts didn’t line up anymore — just scattered pieces:

He said he’d wait for me.

He’s there. He doesn’t even know me.

He still want me.

You turned the last corner, and the campus opened wide.

There it was.

The tree.

Your tree.

It stood tall at the edge of the quad, dark and still under the starlight — exactly as it had been that first night, when you sat with your back to his, fingers brushing the grass, breath catching in the silence between messages.

You reached the tree just as your knees finally gave out.

You sank down on the familiar patch of grass, your back resting gently against the rough bark. The night air brushed your skin, cooler now, and your Evol responded without command — a low, calming stir of wind wrapping around your arms like a whisper trying to soothe you.

You pressed your forehead to your knees.

Tried to breathe. Tried to believe that he would come.

Your phone buzzed once in your palm, but you didn’t check it. You didn’t want to hope too early.

Then—

A sound.

Shoes against the grass on the other side of the tree. Quiet. Hesitant. Real.

Your heart thundered.

You didn’t move. Didn’t call out. You just… waited.

Then your screen lit up in your hand.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;30); pls tell me you haven't been waiting for too long

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;30) i brought you some cakes

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;30) figured sugar might help

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;30) or at least distract you

You stared at the words, and something inside you broke cleanly, without resistance. A sound escaped you — not a sob, not yet, but something raw and caught and shaking. You buried your face in your hands and cried. For real this time. No holding back.

He came.

He brought you cake.

He didn’t know who you were.

But he came anyway.

You reached blindly to your side, fingers trembling, and laid your hand flat on the grass. Open. Reaching.

And after a beat— his fingers touched yours.

Soft. Steady. Warm.

He didn’t speak. You didn’t either.

But your hands stayed there, tangled in silence, and for once, you weren’t unraveling alone.

Your fingers stayed laced with his — palm to palm against the grass. He didn’t squeeze too tight. Didn’t shift. Just stayed.

Present.

Real.

Your breath was still unsteady, but the worst of it had passed. Like the flood inside you had finally found somewhere to drain.

Your phone buzzed in your other hand, soft and tentative. You glanced at it.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;31); you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;31); and for the record

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;31); crying isn’t weakness

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;31); it’s pressure leaving the body

You let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob — too soft for the night to carry. Your thumb moved slowly as you typed while you could feel his hand squeeze yours.

WindQueen.exe (21;31): your science is weird

WindQueen.exe (21;31): but thanks

Another ping.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;32); i’m full of weird science

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;32); and cake

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;32); i brought three kinds

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;32); i didn’t know what you liked

Your chest tightened again, but it wasn’t panic this time. It was gratitude so sharp it almost hurt. You swallowed it down and typed:

WindQueen.exe (21;32); i like that you showed up, that’s enough

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a different tone. Lighter.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;33); after the picture you sent earlier

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;33); i didn’t expect to find you crying under a tree

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;33); kinda ruins the femme fatale image

You let out a soft puff of air — not quite a laugh, but close. How could he always make you feel better, you didn't know.

Your thumb hovered above the screen as you typed:

WindQueen.exe (21;33): maybe i’m a multi-layered mystery

WindQueen.exe (21;34) dangerous at dusk, unhinged by midnight

His reply came quickly.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;34); dangerously beautiful

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;34); unhinged but still elegant

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;34); 8/10 would meet behind a tree again

You smiled, actually smiled — and bit your lip because it felt like too much.

But then a shadow of worry crept back into your chest. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch any glimpse beyond the tree trunk, even though you knew you wouldn’t see him.

WindQueen.exe (21;34) : are you okay though?

WindQueen.exe (21;34) you said you were sick

WindQueen.exe (21;35) i didn’t mean to drag you out like this

There was a longer pause before he answered.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;35); i’m still a little feverish

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;35); but this was worth it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;35); you were worth it

Your heart tripped over itself. You stared at the screen a long time before responding.

WindQueen.exe (21;35): you’re too kind for someone who called me dramatic two nights ago

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;36); you are dramatic

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;36); but i like that about you

His fingers played lightly with yours — slow, lazy movements like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Or maybe he was, and he just didn’t care to stop.

You didn’t either.

Your phone buzzed again in your lap.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;36); your hand’s smaller than i remember

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;37); kinda unfair how it still fits so perfectly in mine

You smirked softly, already typing back.

WindQueen.exe (21;37): should i be flattered

WindQueen.exe (21;37): or suspicious that you’re measuring my hands behind a tree?

His reply came fast.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21;37); yes

You huffed a laugh under your breath and shifted a little, letting your thumb gently stroke across the back of his hand where your fingers stayed laced.

Then your teasing spark returned — that familiar fire that always made him rise to meet you.

WindQueen.exe (21;38): maybe your fever’s worse than you said

WindQueen.exe (21;38): didn’t realize one picture could mess you up that bad

WindQueen.exe (21;39): or are you always this handsy when you’re sick?

You could feel the pause on the other side of the tree.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:39); only when the girl is you

You bit your bottom lip, trying not to smile like an idiot.

WindQueen.exe (21:41): bold of you to assume i’m not secretly a swamp goblin with good angles

His fingers curled more securely around yours — a squeeze, followed by a small, wandering stroke of his thumb along your knuckles.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:41): then i guess i’m in trouble

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:41) cause i’d still meet you here anyway

The air between you was still. Warm, like the weight of your laughter hadn’t fully drifted away yet.

Then—

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:42): so…

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:42) you flirt like you fight

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:42) fast hands, no follow-through 😏

You blinked.

Then gaped at your screen.

WindQueen.exe (21:42): EXCUSE me??

WindQueen.exe (21:43): i’ll have you know i am very capable

WindQueen.exe (21:43); of follow-through

WindQueen.exe (21:43) i just choose to let you sweat

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:44): is that what you call running off with my heart and leaving me under a tree?

Your jaw dropped again. Your cheeks were on fire.

WindQueen.exe (21:44): you are SO dramatic

WindQueen.exe (21:44): are you sure i’m the dramatic one??

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:44): you cried over cake

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:45): i’m literally sitting here feverish and still smoother than you

Your hand tensed around his instinctively. He squeezed back — just enough to make it worse.

WindQueen.exe (21:45): i am being EMOTIONALLY VULNERABLE

WindQueen.exe (21:45) stop being HOT

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:46): can’t help that either

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:46) side effect of the fever 😏

You stared at the screen in disbelief, your other hand flying up to cover your face.

WindQueen.exe (21:46): i’m blocking you

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:46): with our fingers still touching?

You glanced down where your hand still rested in his — and now his thumb was stroking yours again, slow and deliberate.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:47): i win

WindQueen.exe (21:47): you’re unbearable

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:47): and yet here you are

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:47): still holding my hand

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:47): still choosing to stay

The teasing had gone too far. His thumb was still stroking yours. Your ears were burning. The tension was thick enough to chew through.

And then you snapped.

WindQueen.exe (21:48): you know what, feed me the cake

There was a long pause.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:48): …deal.

Your whole body tensed.

And then — you heard it.

Shuffling on the other side of the tree. A rustle. A plastic bag. Then a soft tap tap on the grass near your side. You glanced down.

Fingers.

His.

Holding out something — a fluffy little cube of strawberry shortcake, balanced precariously between his thumb and index.

You stared. You didn’t even think.

You leaned in—

—and bit his fingers.

Not hard. But definitely enough to make a point and hear him gasp.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:49): ???

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:49): DID YOU JUST BITE ME WOMAN

WindQueen.exe (21:49): power move

WindQueen.exe (21:49): respect it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:50): remind me never to flirt with you near sharp objects again

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:50): or dessert

WindQueen.exe (21:50): you love it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:50): …yeah

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:50): i kinda do

You licked the frosting off your lips and smiled, still breathless, still dizzy — but for the first time in hours, it wasn’t from panic.

It was from him.

WindQueen.exe (21:51): you’re an idiot

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:51): yours tho?

Your fingers curled tighter around his — warm, steady.

You didn’t answer but your smile against the back of your hand said everything. You were grinning like an idiot, you almost felt ashamed of yourself.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:52): so that’s what it takes, huh

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:52): cake and fingers

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:52): you really do bite when you want something

WindQueen.exe (21:52): careful

WindQueen.exe (21:52): you’re the one who offered

WindQueen.exe (21:52): i just took initiative

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:53): oh, is that what we’re calling it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:53): initiative?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:53): interesting word for someone who moaned over cake and bit me in the same breath

You choked on air.

WindQueen.exe (21:53): i did NOT moan

WindQueen.exe (21:53): that was an exhale. a stressed sigh.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:54): sounded like sin

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:54): not stress

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:54): should i test the theory?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:54): next bite, maybe a little slower?

Your fingers tightened around his instinctively. You were not prepared.

WindQueen.exe (21:54): you’re sick. go home. hydrate. cool off.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:54): maybe i can’t cool off

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:54): maybe someone raised the temperature tonight

WindQueen.exe (21:55): oh my god! did you just blame your fever on me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:55): look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t plan the picture

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:55): the hand-holding

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:55): the tree

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:55): the cake trap

You were shaking with laughter — and something else.

WindQueen.exe (21:56): you’re delusional

WindQueen.exe (21:56): and dramatic

WindQueen.exe (21:56): and not wrong

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:56): say that again

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:56): the last part

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:56): slowly

WindQueen.exe (21:57): not.

WindQueen.exe (21:57) wrong.

You felt it — the shift.

His thumb slid slowly across the inside of your wrist, where your pulse stuttered.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:57): if we weren’t behind a tree right now

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:57): i’d kiss the hell out of you

Your heart stopped.Then thundered.

WindQueen.exe (21:58): what if i still want you to

WindQueen.exe (21:58): even behind the tree

There was a long pause.

You could feel it.

The world shrank to the space between your hand and his.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (21:59): then hold still, let me find your hand again

And when he did, his fingers slid between yours like he already knew the shape of your want.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You felt his fingers brush yours again — slow, careful. No teasing this time.

He found your hand where it waited in the grass, lifted it gently, cradling it in both of his.

Then—

Warmth.

Soft.

His lips pressed against your knuckles — slow, certain. A touch so quiet it was nearly lost to the night.

But it set your heart ablaze.

No words followed. No jokes. No smirk in your messages.

Just a buzz.

WindQueen.exe (22:00): you kissed my hand

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:00): yeah

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:00): couldn’t help it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:00): your fingers were asking for it

WindQueen.exe (22:01): i think i stopped breathing

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:01): same

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:01): should we file a report or something

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:01): “unknown girl under tree causes temporary cardiac arrest via skin contact”

WindQueen.exe (22:02): i’ll frame it

You were dizzy. Not from panic this time. Not from running.

From him.

The way he kissed your hand like he’d been waiting all night to do it. Like your skin held secrets he needed to taste. You looked at your phone, thumb trembling.

WindQueen.exe (22:03): is this your fever or are you always like this

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:03): dangerously charming?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:03): tragically sincere?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:03): touch-starved and losing it under a tree?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:04): yeah, that’s all just me

WindQueen.exe (22:04): you realize you’re making it impossible to sleep now, right?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:05): good

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:05): i don’t want you dreaming about anyone else

You stared at the screen, blushing furiously with heat polling in your lower belly. Then your eyes turned back at where your hand still rested in his.

WindQueen.exe (22:05): maybe i’ll just dream about that kiss

WindQueen.exe (22:05): over and over

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:05): need a better one?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:05) we could try again

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:05) next time, closer to the wrist

Your breath hitched.

The images that conjured—

WindQueen.exe (22:06): you’re gonna kill me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:06): not before i ruin you a little first

Your stomach flipped. He was teasing — but it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. Not with the way his thumb kept stroking circles over your palm. Not with the way your body leaned into the space between the tree trunks like a tide.

WindQueen.exe (22:07): stop flirting

WindQueen.exe (22:07): i’m weak and you’re warm

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:07): babe

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:07): i’m literally burning

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:07): if you peek right now, i won’t stop you

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:07): but i also won’t let you walk away after

The first kiss had been on your knuckles.

Soft. Surprising.

This one…

This one wasn’t.

You didn’t even feel him move. Just the shift of air. The tilt of your hand.

Then—

His lips at your wrist.

Open.

Lingering.

Not just a kiss. A press.

Right over your pulse.

He knew.

Your Evol sparked — a flutter of breeze circling low around your ankles, unsure what to do with the way your whole body flushed in waves.

Your phone buzzed in your lap.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:08): your skin got warmer here, did you notice?

You swallowed hard. Your breath caught somewhere high in your chest. You tried to keep your cool.

You tried.

WindQueen.exe (22:09): maybe your fever’s just spreading. i should quarantine you

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:09): you’re the one trembling

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:09): i think you caught it

He kissed you there again.

Slower.

His breath left heat behind — like you’d been marked.

WindQueen.exe (22:10): if i pass out under this tree, you’re legally responsible

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:10): that’s fair, but only if i get to kiss you awake

Your legs nearly buckled beneath you. You bit your lips, trying to contain any noise that he could manage to pull out of you. It was unfair how easy it seemed for him to turn you into a melting void.

WindQueen.exe (22:10): you think you’re so smooth

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:11): i know i am

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:11): and right now

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:11): you’re letting me be

His lips didn’t leave your wrist.

They just…stayed.

A brush. A breath. A dare.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:11): tell me to stop

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:11): and i will

You didn’t.

Instead, you lifted his hand slightly — just enough to bring it to your mouth.

And then…

You bit him.

Hard. Just enough.

To mark.

To answer.

To challenge.

You heard it before you saw the notification.

A sharp, startled sound — muffled by the tree but unmistakable.

A low, involuntary moan.

Your face went up in flames.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:12): …you’re playing a dangerous game

You couldn’t look at the screen.

You did anyway.

WindQueen.exe (22:12): that wasn’t on purpose

WindQueen.exe (22:12):fklfejflsf

WindQueen.exe (22:12): i mean it was

WindQueen.exe (22:12): but not gugkjh

WindQueen.exe (22:12): you weren’t supposed to react like that

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): too late

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): you found my weak spot

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): hope you’re proud of yourself

You covered your mouth with your hand — not the one still held tightly in his. You quickly took your hand off your mouth to answer him. Why didn’t you think before acting upon your intrusive thoughts?

WindQueen.exe (22:13): oh my god i can never show my face again

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): good

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): cause if i saw your face right now

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:13): i wouldn’t be responsible for what happens next

WindQueen.exe (22:13): STOP

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:14): babe

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:14): you bit me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:14): and i liked it

Your Evol flickered again — a swirl of air brushing your ankles like even the wind was scandalized.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:14): just saying, you should be careful

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:15): because

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:15): i like to bite too

Your entire soul exited your body.

WindQueen.exe (22:15): okay

WindQueen.exe (22:15): i’m done

WindQueen.exe (22:15): you win

WindQueen.exe (22:15): i concede the war

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:15): oh no, sweetheart

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:15): this isn’t war

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:15): this is foreplay

You threw your phone into your lap.

Then picked it back up 0.2 seconds later because what if he sent another one. You were breathing like you ran a marathon. Your Evol curled around your ankles like a cat sensing chaos.

Your hands were shaking… So of course, you typed.

WindQueen.exe (22:16): you’re disgusting

WindQueen.exe (22:16): filthyWindQueen.exe (22:16): revolting

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:16): keep going, say it slower

WindQueen.exe (22:17): oh my GOD

WindQueen.exe (22:17): this is harassment

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:17): nah, this is what happens when you bite me under a tree in the dark

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:17): what did you expect?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:17): silence?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:17): prayer?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:17): restraint?

WindQueen.exe (22:18): i expected composure

WindQueen.exe (22:18): maybe a thank you

WindQueen.exe (22:18): definitely not a moan

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:18): say it again

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:18): say “moan” one more time

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:18): i dare you

You were not okay. Your whole body felt wired, pulled tight, like one more word from him and you'd snap in half.

So of course, you bit back.

WindQueen.exe (22:18): you liked it that much?

WindQueen.exe (22:18): what would you do if i bit higher?

The silence after that felt like a thunderstorm.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:19): sweetheart

You swallowed.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:19): you keep saying things like that

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:19): and one night

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:19): i’m gonna stop kissing your hand

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:19): and start dragging my teeth up your arm

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:19): until you forget there’s a tree between us

You almost dropped your phone.

WindQueen.exe (22:20): YOU ARE SICK

WindQueen.exe (22:20): YOU HAVE A FEVER

WindQueen.exe (22:20): GO HOME

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:20): i am home

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:20): you’re here

That one shut you up.

Completely.

Your hand was still in his. His thumb — still stroking. His other hand rested warm over the top of yours now, grounding you.

WindQueen.exe (22:21): …say that again

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:21): you’re home

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:21): even if i don’t know your name

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:21): even if i never see your face

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:21): this?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:21): right here?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:21): feels like home

You didn’t know how to reply. You stared at your phone like it was holy. Like it might burn you.Your pulse thudded in your ears. So instead of typing…You leaned forward. Lifted his hand — the same one you’d bit before. The one he didn’t let go of even once.

And you kissed it.

Soft. Warm. Right over the mark you’d left.

No bite. No tease.

Just a press of lips, slow and reverent.

A moment that said: I’m here too.

No more Discord messages came. Not right away. You didn’t need them. Because on the other side of the tree, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his fingers closed tight around yours.

Then, gently, your phone buzzed.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:23): that was the kind of kiss people write poems about

You smiled. Quietly. Felt your throat sting a little.

WindQueen.exe (22:23): that was the kind of hand that deserved one

There was a pause.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:24): i’m gonna think about that for days

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:24): maybe longer

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:24): maybe always

Your thumb brushed his. And this time? You kissed his wrist again. Just because you wanted to. No teasing. No biting. No games.

Just you. And him.

Still behind the tree. Still hidden.

But closer than ever.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:29): it’s late, you should go sleep

You smiled faintly.

WindQueen.exe (22:30): you too, before your fever eats the rest of your brain

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:30): too late. gave the last pieces to you

You laughed under your breath. Your thumb brushed along the edge of his hand. One last time.

WindQueen.exe (22:31): thank you for being here

The pause that followed was longer than usual.

Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:32): always

Your throat tightened.

WindQueen.exe (22:33): goodnight and you better take care of your fever

And just before you let go of his hand — your phone buzzed once more, one last time:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:34): don’t dream of anyone else tonight

WindQueen.exe (22:34): i never do

You stayed there, beneath the tree, long after he pulled away.You heard his footsteps—slow, steady, then fading. And you almost called out.

But you didn’t.

Not until your eyes drifted down.

There—on the inside of your wrist, where his mouth had lingered too long.

A faint purple bloom.

A kiss.

No—a hickey.

Your stomach dropped. Your face burned. Your fingers twitched, brushing over the heat that still pulsed there. You blinked down at it, stunned, heart racing again as the night swirled around you.

That bastard.

He didn’t bite.

He claimed.

He bit you back. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You fumbled for your phone, heart in your throat. Clicked a photo—your fingers forming a half-heart with the fresh mark on your wrist.

And without thinking twice, you sent it.

WindQueen.exe (22:39): [image attached]

WindQueen.exe (22:39): you left something.

The reply came almost instantly.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:39): fuck

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:39): you’re going to kill me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:39) slowly

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:39) sexily

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:39) and i’m gonna say thank you

WindQueen.exe (22:40): you’re trouble

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:40): and you like it?

WindQueen.exe (22:41): i really, really do

There it was again.

That ache. That need. That thing between you neither of you dared name.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:41): now go

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:41): or i’ll come back

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:41): and bite somewhere worse

WindQueen.exe (22:41): is that a threat?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:41): it’s a promise

You laughed aloud under the tree, covering your burning face.

WindQueen.exe (22:40): night, gravity boy

WindQueen.exe (22:40): try not to dream about my wrist

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:40): too late

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:40): it’s already in 4K in my brain

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:41): see you tomorrow (?)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (22:41): bruises and all

You sighed with a soft smile before standing up. You couldn’t help but laugh when you noticed the bag of cake still on the ground. You took it with you and ate one on the way to an open shop. You bought some drinks and sweets, knowing Zayne would crave it as soon as he arrived.

After thirty minutes, or forty, you were back at Caleb’s apartment, feeling guilty to have ran off like this, leaving Caleb’s girlfri— friend alone.

You shut the door behind you softly. No need to be quiet — Caleb hadn’t returned yet, Zayne’s train was supposed to arrive in less than an hour. But someone was waiting.

She sat on the couch, curled under a blanket, a mug in her hands and concern in her eyes. When she saw you, she immediately stood.

“Hey,” she said gently. “I was starting to worry.”

You gave her a soft smile — smaller than usual, but no longer hollow. “Sorry. I just… needed air.”

She didn’t press. “Did it help?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It did.”

She blinked, surprised at how steady your voice sounded. Then she smiled too, cautiously. “You seem… different. Better.”

“I am,” you said.

She gestured to the spot beside her on the couch. “Want to sit with me a bit? ”

You hesitated only a moment before joining her.

And she talked. Soft and sweet, her voice filling the space like a hum.

She told you about how Zayne used to carry her on his back when she fell asleep in strange places. How Caleb used to be louder— cunning, protective — until he wasn’t. About the time they all snuck out to watch fireworks when they were fifteen, and Caleb fell asleep with his head on her shoulder and pretended the next morning it never happened.

You listened. Not just out of politeness. But because… you could feel the shape of their friendship more clearly through her words.

“Zayne used to call him gravity-boy,” She giggled softly, swirling her tea. “Not because of his power — just because everything kinda stuck to him. People, problems, tension. He just… holds things. Even when it’s too heavy.”

You glanced down at your wrist.

At the faint purple mark.

You frowned before shaking your head. It seemed like everyone had a Gravity boy in their life… But hearing this name while mentioning Caleb was…

The sound of the front door unlocking made both you and your new friend turn your heads.

It swung open — and in stepped Caleb, looking windswept, sharp-eyed, and exhausted. But you couldn’t help but notice that the air around him seemed softer, appeased. His gaze swept the room once, lingering on you… just for a second.

Then Zayne followed.

No coat. Messy hair. Worry written all over his face. He said—like your name alone was a question.

You barely had time to rise from the couch before he crossed the room in two strides.

He didn’t touch you.

But he stood close. Too close to be casual. Close like someone who was already memorizing every detail of your expression to figure out what you weren’t saying.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low. Firm. Not panicked, but pointed.

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said bluntly.

“I wasn’t,” you admitted, softer now. “But I’m better.”

Zayne’s eyes flicked over you again. You could feel the analysis happening in real time — tracking your breathing, your posture, the slight redness in your eyes.

Then he nodded. Just once. The kind of nod that meant: Okay. For now.

“Good,” he said. “Because I brought way too much coffee and I’m not drinking it alone.”

You let out a breath that almost passed as a laugh. You looked between the three of them.

Zayne, sharp and calculating.

Pipsqueak – what was her name again?--, still buzzing from cozy nostalgia.

Caleb, arms crossed, leaning against the wall and checking his phone.

And you announced:

“I need to drink the night away.”

Everyone blinked.

Zayne’s brow furrowed instantly. “You need what—”

“Alcohol,” you repeated firmly, already kicking off your shoes. “Strong. Cold. Copious.”

A high pitched cheer could be heard on your right.

Zayne looked like you’d just declared war on your own bloodstream. “You had a panic attack five hours ago and your solution is vodka?”

“Absolutely,” you said, heading for the kitchen. “Don’t try to stop me.” You said to Caleb who was walking toward you.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Caleb muttered, already walking past Zayne. “I’ll get the glasses.”

That, somehow, startled Zayne even more.

“Caleb—”

“She’s earned it.”

And just like that, it began.

You didn’t know how many drinks you had. Zayne was sipping his first glass, saying it would be the only one he was going to drink.

“I’m starting the game,” The one you needed to ask for her name declared, already perched dramatically on the arm of the couch like a queen on her throne. “Truth or dare is mandatory for all emotionally repressed individuals in this room.”

“That’s all of us,” you said, raising your glass.

Zayne groaned. “This is going to end badly.”

“Good,” Caleb muttered, pouring himself another drink.

She asked with a grin. “Truth or dare?”

You smirked. “Truth.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Have you ever had a crush on someone?”

You froze.

Caleb looked up.

Zayne arched his brow.

“I…” you stalled, heat crawling up your neck. “...maybe.” You looked at your phone.

She squealed.

Caleb blinked once. Drank.

Zayne squinted at you like he was adding something new to a mental file.

You turned, a little buzzed, a little brave.

“Caleb,” you said slowly. “Truth or dare?”

He leaned back on his hands. “Truth.”

You grinned. “Who was your first kiss?”

He didn’t blink. “Does a sparring partner who knocked me out and started mouth to mouth count?”

You laughed. “Was that your origin story?”

Caleb looked at you, deadpan. “I bled on her shoes.”

You howled.

Caleb then grinned — a rare, actual grin.

“Zayne. Truth or dare?”

Zayne narrowed his eyes. “Truth.”

“Have you ever had a normal, human crush?”

A beat.

Zayne looked at his drink.

“I once memorized someone’s coffee order and changed mine to match it for three months without ever talking to them.”

Everyone stared.

“…Okay that’s worse than I thought,” Caleb whispered while you hugged your best friend against your chest, pointing at Caleb and his girl– friend.

“Don’t mock my baby!”

“Oh, it’s on,” she purred. “Caleb. Truth or dare?”

He hesitated.

“…Dare.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“I dare you to whisper something in the ear of our dear new friend that would absolutely ruin her.”

You froze.

He held your gaze a little too long.

You could see the way his throat shifted when he swallowed. How his hand tightened just slightly on the drink in his lap.

You raised an eyebrow. Dared him silently.

He stood.

Crossed to you slowly.

Leaned down — his breath just barely brushing the shell of your ear. His voice low, almost lazy, but charged with something that felt like a fuse already lit:

“You act like I bother you… but if I touched you right now, you wouldn’t pull away.”

Your heart dropped straight to your knees.

The entire room fizzled out.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

He pulled back, casual as ever — not realizing you were wrecked. The mastermind behind this dare stared between you both like she was watching enemies fall in love against their will. Zayne looked into his drink like it might offer guidance from another plane.

You turned to pipsqueak, still recovering from Caleb’s whisper.

“Truth or dare?”

She clutched her chest like she’d been proposed to. “Truth, because I love drama.”

You narrowed your eyes, smirking. “Okay then. Who did you actually have your first kiss with?”

She blinked. Then looked down.

“…Zayne.”

Silence.

Zayne, very calmly: “You said we were just practicing.”

“I was lying.”

You nearly choked on your drink.

Zayne downed his glass in one go.

Caleb was staring in the void.

She quickly recovered with a wicked grin. “Zayne. Truth or dare.”

“…Truth,” he muttered.

“If you had to date someone in this room, who would it be?”

You and Caleb both stared. You knew your best friend – well you thought you did– he would never have a crush on someone here..? Or maybe–

Zayne didn’t even blink and then point at you.

You sputtered. “What?!”

He shrugged. “I know you’d never let me control you. That’s… oddly comforting.”

“Okay, wow, we’re spiraling.” You heard pipsqueak whisper.

Caleb’s jaw tightened just slightly white Zayne stared at him with curiosity. You could see his lips twitch a bit before he turned to you, deadpan.

“Truth or dare?”

You tilted your head. “Dare.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Switch seats. Sit next to Caleb.”

You could hear your girl gasping. “You little devil.”

You blinked. Caleb raised an eyebrow. But you moved. Crossed the space. Sat beside him on the couch.

Your thigh touched his. He didn’t move away.

Neither did you.

You could feel him look at you sideways. You refused to look back.

Caleb, slow drawled. “Pips. Truth or dare.”

She clapped. “DARE. Ruin me.”

He smirked. “Send your last selfie to the group chat you create, with no context.”

She immediately grabbed her phone. Three seconds later, a ridiculous duck face with glowing blush cheeks appeared in the group text.

Zayne almost begged. “Unsent. Please.”

You were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. Caleb chuckled quietly beside you.

The warmth between you two started to hum.

Zayne was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sipping water now. The little sunshine that was your new friend was curled beside him, her head resting on his shoulder as they whispered between themselves.

It was quieter. The laughter had simmered into something closer to breath.

You sat beside Caleb on the couch, your head tilted slightly toward him. Close, but not touching. Still warm from the game. He was staring ahead — eyes distant, fingers resting against the rim of his glass but not lifting it again.

“Do you believe,” he said suddenly, voice low and rough, “that blood makes people the same?”

You blinked. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. “Like… if you share DNA with someone who’s a monster, that makes you one too.”

You didn’t answer.

He let out a dry laugh. “I used to think it did. Still do. Sometimes.”

His hand twitched slightly — not toward you, but close.

“My grandmother,” he said, voice barely audible now. “She was a high-level researcher. Part of the original Ever project.”

You stiffened.

“She used to run tests on me when I was little. On Pips, too.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Really..?”

He nodded. “She doesn’t remember. They did something to her memory when it was over. Probably because she was just a kid. I was older.”

You stared at him — stunned, quiet.

“She called it evolution acceleration,” he said. “Wanted to see how far she could push us. How much we could take before we broke.”

“And did you?”

He turned to you then. His eyes were so tired. So honest.

“Not yet.”

Your throat tightened. “Caleb…”

“I don’t talk about it,” he said. “But with you…”

He trailed off.

Then finally, he added, quieter:

“I don’t feel like I have to lie. I feel like... we're the same."

Caleb's confession lingered in the quiet air between you.No one else in the room heard it — just you.

And it felt sacred, somehow. Like being handed a piece of someone’s bruised soul and knowing they trusted you not to crush it.

You didn’t speak.You just looked at him. Really looked. And he looked back, eyes shadowed, jaw tight — but softer than you’d ever seen him.

There it was. The shared understanding. The matching scars you hadn’t realized you both wore.

HIs phone buzzed and his eyes snapped on it. You raised your eyebrows as he checked his phone again.

“Okay, what is it with you and that screen? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people secretly obsessed with a farming game.”

He smirked, setting his phone facedown but not far from his reach.

“Not exactly.”

“Oh?” you leaned in a little, voice playful. “Secret girlfriend?”

He glanced at you, the smile still there — but quieter now. A little more… real.

“Something like that.”

He checked his phone again — but this time, he didn’t type anything. Just stared at the screen a moment longer than usual.

You nudged him gently with your elbow. “You okay?”

He blinked, like you’d pulled him from somewhere far away. “Yeah.”

Then, without quite meaning to, you asked, “Is it her?”

He didn’t ask how you knew. He didn’t even pretend to be confused. He just nodded.

And said — almost to himself — “I think I’m in love with her.”

You looked at him. Ooh, yeah, he was drunk talking.

But seeing this part of Caleb, how he seemed at ease, you didn’t want to tease him. You were actually curious about the person that held your ex-enemy.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled, slow and tired and full.

“She makes me feel like… I’m not the version of me everyone’s decided I am. Like I’m more. Not monsieur perfect.”

“I’m happy for you,” you said quietly.

He didn’t look at you right away.

Just rested his head back against the couch. Eyes on the ceiling with a fond smile.

“Thanks.” He whispered before looking at his phone and kissing the screen. He then stood up and carried his pipsqueak in the guest’s bedroom. He added that Zayne could sleep in his room, he would take the couch. You asked where you were supposed to sleep and he just said that the guest’s room had a bed for two persons.

You smiled before going next to Zayne, trying to get him to tell the hospital’s drama but he kept his face down. Maybe he drank too much? Well, you knew Zayne wasn’t a drinker, should you feel guilty..? Fuck, yes you were feeling guilty now.

“I don’t know who your father really is,” he whispered. “But I know this isn’t just medical. It’s strategic. And it’s wrong.”

You blinked. Was he still thinking about the pills and your father while being drunk? “You believe me?”

He looked at you now. Eyes a little glassy, but sharp. Unshaken.

“I do,” he said. “And I don’t care what anyone else says — I’m on your side.”

Your breath caught.

He shrugged. “Even if you turn out to be a human weapon or some genetically engineered storm queen or whatever.” He smiled a little. “You’re still you. That’s the part I trust.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until your sleeve brushed your cheek. Gosh alcohol was not the best for being strong.

And Zayne, maybe still too drunk to understand the magnitude of what he’d just said, added simply:

“Besides, you’re kind of my favorite.”

You laughed, watery and surprised.

“That’s the vodka talking.”

“Nope,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder. “That’s the human part.”

You smiled at him, hugging him strongly while he closed his eyes. You knew he was going to fall asleep soon so with the left of your strength, you brought him toward Caleb’s room. You opened the door slightly and watched Zayne fall head first in the bed.

You giggled drunkenly, took a picture then looked around. Your eyes landed on his computer, the scream showing a discord’s window.

Should you..?

You approached the screen before shaking your head. You left the bed while taking your phone, feeling a drunk desire to mess with your… crush. You went into the living room and started taking off your pants and your shirt, leaving you in your underwear. You looked around and smiled when you realized Zayne had brought some clothes for you.

He was such a perfect man.

You quickly took a hoodie and put it on you before taking back your phone. You stared at the glowing Discord screen.

WindQueen.exe (02:06) Still awake?

Your pulse thumped hard in your neck.

You waited. One second. Two. Twenty.

Nothing.

But you were already moving — tugging the hoodie’s zipper down just enough. Letting it slip off one shoulder. Just enough skin. Just enough dare.

You lifted your phone.

No face. Never your face. Just a hint of your neck, bare shoulder, the hoodie half-fallen down your collarbone, even letting a bit of the swell of your breasts show. Your fingers curved into a half-heart at your chest.

You stared at the image for one long breath. Then added:

WindQueen.exe (02:07)If you were here… What would you do?

Sent.

The air around you tightened.

Your chest rose and fell — high, too high. A little dizzy. A little drunk. But not from the alcohol anymore.

The typing dots blinked to life.

Stopped.

Started again.

Your fingers clenched the blanket.

Then came his reply:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:09)…youre going to be the death of me.

You bit your lip, already smiling — heat pooling low in your stomach..

Then, a new image appeared.

You opened it with shaking hands.

A photo. Dim. Close.

His hand, strong and calloused, rested beneath his jaw. The faintest sliver of his chest was visible — bare skin, warm-toned, a hint of collarbone and shoulder. His fingers curved into a half-heart to mirror yours.

Your breath hitched.

And then—

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:11): I’d found that zipper.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:11): Real slow.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:11): And kiss everything you were trying to hide.

Your entire body flushed.

Heat from head to toes.

A noise caught in your throat, half-laugh, half-whimper.

You buried your face in the pillow.

He didn’t know. He had no idea. And still, he was unraveling you like no one else ever had.

WindQueen.exe (02:12)Then show me.

WindQueen.exe (02:12) What you’d do.

WindQueen.exe (02:12) Pretend I’m right there.

The typing bubbles appeared instantly this time.

As if he hadn’t even paused.

You swallowed hard.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:13); I’d start slow.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:13); Pull the zipper down with my teeth.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:13); Let it fall off your shoulders, one side at a time.

Your breath hitched.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:13) I’d kiss just below your collarbone.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:13) One kiss for every time you’ve driven me insane this week.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:13) That’s… a lot of kisses.

You laughed quietly into your hand — flushed, flustered, wrecked.

You tugged the hoodie tighter around yourself. Somehow, it felt warmer now.

WindQueen.exe (02:14) You’re making it very hard to stay quiet, you know.

WindQueen.exe (02:14) Everyone’s asleep. I should be asleep.

You snapped another photo — just your legs curled beneath the hoodie, fingers brushing your bare knee. The lighting was soft, intimate, and low. Nothing explicit. Just… vulnerable. Inviting.

WindQueen.exe (02:15) But I keep thinking about your hands.

You waited.

You’d laughed into the pillow — warm, soft, dizzy.

But now?

Now you just felt undone.

The hoodie had slipped a little farther down your arm. The air felt warmer. Your skin, electric. You tugged your knees up beneath you, curling into the oversized fabric. You laid on the couch that still smelled faintly like Caleb. You lifted your phone again.

The typing bubbles blinked.

Stopped.

Then—

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:15) They’d be gentle…until you asked otherwise.

Your breath hitched. You swallowed. And then—without overthinking it—you took another picture. Dim light. Hoodie draped loose over your thighs. Your hand rested just above your knee — fingers tracing a slow, suggestive curve. Nothing too much. Just inviting.

WindQueen.exe (02:16)And if I said I wanted you here right now?

Seconds passed.

More.

You held your breath.

Then—

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:17)Then I’d tell you the truth.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:17)You wouldn’t be alone for a single second.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:17)Not tonight. Not ever.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:17)Not if I could help it.

You blinked.

Stared at the message like it might vanish.

And then something in you folded.

The heat between your ribs turned tender. The ache in your throat wasn’t just from want — it was from how much this mattered.

Not the flirting. Not even the rush.

But him.

His voice in your mind. His words in your hands. His presence, quiet and unwavering, on the other side of a screen — never once letting go.

You pulled the hoodie tighter.

Curled smaller.

And typed:

WindQueen.exe (02:19) Then don’t go.

WindQueen.exe (02:19)Stay with me.

WindQueen.exe (02:19)Just like this.

And when the reply came—

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (02:20) Always.

----

TagLIst: @xyzbeloved @deepspace-fishie @floofycookie @silmeria-lafleur @pagesfalling @noxus123 @sylusgirlie7 @anuncalledbridge @napforalifetime @starlitkitten @floofycookie @jcrml @zukini-01 @saybeyonce @chrisjw108 @jisodior @orianakira

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prettygirl-gabi · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Right Person, Wrong Time

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball, cheer (UConn/USC AU)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x cheerleader!Reader

Rating: Teen (mild language and suggestive themes)

Summary: she was always the right person for you, just needed to let go of a bad one first…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld

If there’s one thing I learned from being with Paige Bueckers, it’s that love doesn’t always disappear when things end. Sometimes, it lingers in the background, quietly existing while life pushes you in different directions.

We broke up nearly two years ago, right before college decisions dropped. Me, heading to USC for biology and cheer, and Paige, committed to UConn to chase her basketball dreams. We ended on good terms—mutual understanding, love still present, but timing? Off. And somehow, I never fully left her life.

Her little brother, Drew, still FaceTimes me to play Fortnite. Her dad still invites me on family vacations. And Paige? Well, she’s still… Paige. Calm, collected, and forever nonchalant, making it impossible for anyone to read her. Including my girlfriend, Taylor, who despises the fact that I’m still so intertwined with my ex and her family.

I get it. I’d be insecure too if the person I loved was best friends with their ex. But what Taylor doesn’t get is… Paige and I? We let go of the relationship, but never the bond.

⸻

“Yo, you ready for lab?” Paige’s voice echoes through my phone as I scramble to grab my lab notebook.

“Not really,” I sigh, balancing my phone against my mirror as I tie my hair up. “I was up all night studying. Professor Kim is gonna eat me alive if I mess up this dissection.”

Paige laughs, that soft chuckle that used to be my favorite sound. “You got this, bio nerd. Plus, March Madness is coming up, so you’ll need to be focused when you fly out here to see me kill it in the tourney.”

I grin. “As if I’d miss it.”

Before Paige can respond, Taylor storms into my dorm, eyes glued to her phone.

“Are you serious right now?” she snaps, shoving her screen in my face.

I squint, realizing it’s Paige’s latest Instagram story. A memory from when Drew and I were half-asleep in Paige’s dorm, watching Fast and Furious while Drew practically used me as a body pillow. The caption? “We need to run the late-night movie and cuddle sesh back.” And yes, Paige tagged me. And I reposted it to my story with a simple emoji “😊”

I internally sigh.

“Taylor, it’s not that deep.”

“Not that deep? Your ex is literally reminiscing about cuddling with you. Do you even respect me?”

Before I can speak, Paige’s calm voice cuts through the tension.

“She’s over me, Taylor. You’re the only one making this weird.”

Taylor glares at the phone. “Stay out of this, Bueckers.”

Paige chuckles, completely unfazed. “Gladly. Good luck with your dissection, baby girl.”

She ends the call, leaving me standing there with Taylor fuming.

⸻

I thought that argument would be the end of it. But when Paige’s dad invited me on their family trip to Cabo, I accepted without hesitation.

Taylor was pissed, of course. But something inside me… I needed this break. From her. From the constant accusations. From pretending that Paige wasn’t still my comfort, even if it wasn’t romantic anymore.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

⸻

“Yo, Y/N, you ready for movie night or what?” Drew grins, tugging on my arm as we head to Paige’s room in the vacation house.

“You sure your sister won’t get annoyed with us taking over her bed again?” I tease.

Drew smirks. “Paige loves it. Trust me.”

We settle into the same spots as four years ago, Fast and Furious playing in the background. Drew’s head rests on my stomach as he slowly drifts off, mumbling sleepily, “I love you and Paige. You two belong together.”

Paige glances at me from the other side of the bed, her expression unreadable. But in that moment, I feel it. That pull. That connection we never really lost.

I don’t fight it.

⸻

When I get back to LA, something feels… off.

Taylor’s been acting strange, barely texting back. My gut tells me something’s wrong. So, I do what any girl with trust issues would do — I show up to her apartment unannounced.

And of course, I catch her. With her “best friend,” the same girl she told me not to worry about.

I don’t even feel heartbroken. Just… done.

I leave without saying a word, texting Paige immediately.

“Pack a bag. I need you in LA.”

⸻

Paige arrives the next day, rocking her UConn hoodie and slides like she owns the place. We hit a party that night with my cheer team, and the moment I spot Taylor across the room, her eyes widen in shock.

Paige smirks. “Time to remind her who you really belong to.”

Before I can process it, Paige’s lips are on mine. Slow. Familiar. And the moment our lips part, I turn to Taylor, who’s practically burning holes through me with her stare.

“Oh,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “By the way… I knew you were cheating this whole time. I just wanted to see how long you’d keep pretending.”

The whole party erupts in “OHHHHHS” as Taylor storms out in embarrassment.

Paige? She just pulls me closer, whispering, “Took you long enough to come back to me.”

⸻

That night, Paige and I are back in my dorm, tangled up in my bed like we never lost time.

“I missed this,” I admit, tracing her jaw with my fingertips.

“Me too,” she murmurs. “You were always my girl, Y/N. We just… needed the universe to catch up.”

And finally, it did.

⸻

Two months later, I’m sitting courtside at March Madness, rocking my custom “Bueckers’ Biggest Fan” hoodie, while Drew sits beside me, proudly holding a sign that says, “No I’m Bueckers Biggest Fan.”

Some things are just meant to be.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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deimosphilic · 19 days ago

Text

DEAR ARTHUR | ROBERT "BOB" REYNOLDS

SUMMARY ⋆ sequel to dear april. as much as bob found a makeshift family among new york’s newest heroes, he couldn’t help but remember the one person who had always been his hero.

PAIRING ⋆ bob reynolds x fem!reader

WARNINGS ⋆ mentions of previous substance abuse, bob being silly again, no use of y/n, lowercase intended, povs are switching

A/N ⋆ minors dni!! many a'folk (2 people) have asked for a part 2 so here we go, honouring rdr2 (i used one line)

TAGS ⋆ @moonz33 , @fightmeyoushits2 , @nervousstrangersandwich

WORD COUNT ⋆ 5.4k

dear allie

'my dear arthur, you never showed up, and now, after looking at the newspapers i understand why'

it had been a year since bob left for southeast asia when you saw him again — wide-eyed and disoriented — tucked behind assassins and super-soldiers alike on the news.

you weren’t the type to keep up with the news anymore. not since you’d made the conscious decision to protect whatever fragile peace you’d managed to scrape together. the world was too heavy, too loud. you used to care; that was until a purple alien snapped half the population out of existence on a random tuesday afternoon. after that, silence became sacred.

you hadn’t even meant to land on that channel. you just wanted to unwind with a movie after a long day. but there he was, captured in motion, standing awkwardly among legends. and you couldn’t look away.

he looked good — clear-eyed, steady, healthy.

and somehow, that wrecked you more than anything else ever had.

sure, he’d been on the news before. you remembered that time all too well: florida man arrested after attacking civilian while wearing a chicken costume. you’d laughed when you first saw the ridiculous headline, right up until the phone rang and he was on the other end, crying, asking you to pick him up.

this time, he wasn’t high. he wasn’t rambling. he wasn’t alone. this time, he was standing beside heroes.

and not you.

you were happy for him, of course you were. or at least, that’s what you told yourself. but those people, the ones he stood beside now, didn’t look like they had known him long. they hadn’t sat through his lowest nights. they hadn’t held him through the shakes, or cleaned the blood from his knuckles, or stayed awake for 36 hours straight just to make sure he didn’t die in his sleep. and yet, he got better for them.

after all the years you spent trying to help him, carrying him when he couldn’t carry himself, he chose to get better for a group of people who kill for a living. it wasn’t fair, and you knew how childish that sounded, but fairness had stopped applying to your life a long time ago.

and now, all the feelings you’d buried deep — rage, heartbreak, betrayal — crawled back up from where you’d entombed them. feelings you’d forced down so far you forgot they still lived inside you.

when bob left, you didn’t know how to feel. at first, you grieved like someone had died. you cried until your ribs ached and your throat burnt, until it felt like your entire body had been skinned raw by the sorrow. and then came the stillness. that dull, dissociative fog. like you were floating just above your life, watching someone else wear your skin, going through the motions.

that lasted for weeks.

until one morning, you blinked, and you were back in your body again. but everything felt… quiet. hollow. not healed, definitely not. just numb.

you tried calling him for weeks, too. every time, it was the same — no ringing, just that cold, mechanical voice: “the number you have dialled is no longer in service.” then silence. you’d sit with it for a second, hopeful it might suddenly connect, before finally hanging up.

that hurt more than you dared to admit. like a blade slipping between your ribs, turning slow and cruel, just to see how long you’d bleed. leaving for the other side of the world was one thing. but changing his number? cutting off any way for you to reach him? that was something else entirely.

it was cruel, selfish.

his last words haunted you for months. i love you.

words the two of you never really said, at least not like that. not with the weight they carried when he said them. you lost sleep replaying it in your head, over and over, wondering if he meant it or if it was just another goodbye dressed as a confession.

because the love you had for bob wasn’t sweet or soft. it was desperate. ugly. it twisted inside you, knotted and fraying, built on years of chaos and heartbreak. you loved him even when you shouldn’t have. even when he left you to pick up the pieces he shattered.

maybe that’s why you stayed so long. maybe love made you blind to how unwell it all was — how often he dragged you under with him and never once tried to help you breathe.

you didn’t even realise you were crying until you tasted the familiarness of the salt on your lips. you blinked hard, hurriedly grabbing the remote and switching the tv off, as though that could somehow shut off the ache growing in your chest.

but it was too late. the image was burnt into your mind: bob, truly smiling as he stood beside his teammates, cheering them on from the sidelines. he looked like he belonged there. although he appeared out of place in his corduroy pants and boyish sweater, he seemed to have finally found solid ground to stand on.

there had been a time when you were the one on the sidelines for him. when you were the one giving him soft encouragement, waving from the doorway as he walked into the newest rehab you’d scraped together enough money for. you were the one he leaned on when he was too afraid to face himself.

now he was celebrating victories with strangers, and you were back in your crumbling apartment, crying alone.

there was a time when you allowed yourself to break like this — alone, vulnerable, curled up on your ratty couch or buried beneath your bedsheets, sobbing until your body gave out and sleep took you in its cold, unsatisfying grasp. but you’d since learnt better. or at least convinced yourself you had. the crying never helped. no matter how many tears were spilt, that pit in your gut remained. deep, persistent, and unmistakably carved out by heartbreak.

so you wiped your cheeks with the heel of your hand, dragging your palm down your face as if you could scrape the pain away. you reached for your phone, knowing you shouldn’t, but habit and impulse got the better of you. you opened twitter, searching for distraction, maybe even some validation in the chaos of public opinion surrounding the announcement.

john walker as an avenger?? the same guy who murdered an innocent man in the street?? gtfo

isn’t that black widow’s sister lmaooo

santa got sick and tired of the ungrateful kids byeee

who tf is that weirdo in the back.

you paused on that last one, hovering over the tweet before finally liking it. petty? absolutely. but after all the years, the damage, the letting go, you figured you were entitled to a little pettiness.

you couldn’t say exactly how long you’d been scrolling. all you knew was that when you finally looked up, the sun was setting outside your window, casting everything in that familiar golden haze. it didn’t surprise you. this was life now: wake up, go to work, come home, have a drink, and doomscroll until sleep claimed you.

you sighed, thinking about getting up from the couch but finding yourself rooted in place. your body moved on instinct more than anything. when you blinked, returning from a place you had no idea you visited, your finger hovered over a name.

robert reynolds.

what were you thinking? he probably hadn’t bothered to reconnect his old number. and even if he had, what were the chances he’d answer? doubts crept in quickly — not just doubts, but facts you’d long accepted. still, some small part of you sparked to life, fragile but persistent. it wasn’t much, but it was just enough to push you to tap the call button.

you heard ringing.

that sound alone felt like a miracle, something you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. for a fleeting second, hope continued blooming in your chest. then a voice picked up on the other end.

“who is this?”

it wasn’t him.

you knew bob’s voice. you’d heard it in every version — high, low, broken, angry. this wasn’t it. and just like that, the hope drained from you completely.

“oh… i’m so sorry. i must’ve called the wrong number.”

you hung up before the stranger could say anything else.

you should’ve known better. hope like that was childish. he wouldn’t have kept that number, not after all this time. not after everything. he probably wouldn’t have wanted to talk to you anyway. too much of his past was tied up in you, the worst parts of it. now that he was better, you were just a reminder of everything he’d tried to leave behind.

that was all you were. a memory.

robert reynolds, 7 months later

it had been a month since that dreaded gala — the one where bob spent most of the night trapped in his own head. after the crowd cleared out, all his teammates had gathered in the common area, rehashing the evening, tearing apart the guests with true cruelty. but bob hadn’t felt part of it, not really. his mind was elsewhere, still haunted by the woman he’d stared at the entire night. the one he was so sure was you.

the guilt gnawed at him. after everything the two of you had been through, all those years tangled together, he couldn’t even recognise you in a crowd. couldn’t place the back he had watched walk away from him more times than he could count. he thought he knew you better than he knew himself. but maybe all those hazy highs had clouded his memory more than he realised.

he couldn’t recall many good moments with you anymore, just fragments. not of love or joy, but of the in-between. the times when he didn’t feel untouchable but didn’t feel like he was drowning either.

and during the time he’d lost control and torn through manhattan, he found himself strangely grateful. grateful that his mind hadn’t conjured your face for his new friends to see. yelena’s retelling had been humiliating enough, and the few flashes he remembered — especially that shame room of you — were more than enough for him. only he had seen that. and he wanted to keep it that way. because no matter how much better he was now, he didn’t want the people who’d accepted him to see just how terrible he had once been.

even a month later, bob found his thoughts drifting to you whenever they had the chance. any new idea, any idle moment somehow, you always surfaced. he didn’t blame you. you were probably still in florida, living your life, maybe even forgetting he ever existed. it was him who couldn’t let go. him who was still stuck in the past.

“earth to bob!”

a hand waved in front of his face, snapping him out of it. that thick russian accent unmistakable.

he blinked, turning toward yelena with a startled expression. “shit — sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away. embarrassment flushed through him. he hadn’t meant to ignore her; he just genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about you. and lately, it was starting to spiral.

“what’s going on with you?” yelena asked, tilting her head. “you’ve been… somewhere else.”

his first instinct was to lie. brush it off. “nothin’. i’m fine.” it came easily, automatic, there was no need for him to dump his baggage on her. especially not now, not when she was juggling enough since the avengers announcement. why burden her with old ghosts?

but he also knew her well enough by now to know she wouldn’t let it go. she cared. she always pushed, always made room for the people she cared about. because to her, sharing the weight didn’t mean weakness; it meant surviving.

so he took a breath, deep and slow, and nodded.

“i’ve just… been thinking about someone from before.”

she stayed quiet, waiting, giving him the space to open up.

“there was this girl,” he said, your name barely a whisper on his lips. his gaze dropped to the floor. “she stuck by me through everything. every fuck-up, every dark moment. she didn’t leave, even when i begged her to.”

he looked up again, meeting yelena’s eyes.

“thought i saw her at that stupid gala last month. got stuck on it the whole night.”

yelena’s brow furrowed slightly, but before she could say anything, bob added, “and before you start worrying — no, it wasn’t some fuckin' hallucination or anything. just some random woman who looked like her.”

she let out a quiet sigh of relief but didn’t interrupt.

“anyway,” he said, voice lower now, “i wanna reach out, apologise to her. i just… don’t know if she’ll listen.”

neither of them spoke for a while. the silence between them was thick, teetering on uncomfortable. bob knew the weight of it sat more heavily on his shoulders. yelena wasn’t the one struggling to open up; he was. especially when it came to you. because if he talked about you for too long, the rest would follow, the uglier parts. the truth of who he was when he was with you. and that wasn’t something he ever wanted yelena to see.

bob watched her scan the room thoughtfully, as if searching for the right words. it surprised him. she always seemed to know what to say, always sharp, always sure. seeing her hesitate made him want to pull it all back — tell her not to worry, apologise for even bringing you up. but then she spoke.

“i think you should at least try,” yelena said, cutting through his thoughts with quiet certainty.

he frowned, looking down at his hands, fingers nervously twisting against each other. he wanted to try. god, he did. but what if you didn’t answer? what if hearing from him just opened old wounds? what if you'd changed your number? he did.

he told himself that cutting you off would numb the guilt of abandoning you, that silence could somehow serve as redemption. but he was wrong. he thought if he let time pass, you'd fade, like ink left too long in the sun. instead, you haunted him. your face followed him through crowds, surfaced in strangers, lingered in dreams. you lived in every quiet.

“and even if she doesn’t want to see you again, for whatever reason, i think she’d appreciate the effort,” yelena continued, her voice softer now. gentler.

bob looked at her, sceptical. “how do you know?”

she gave a small shrug. “you left for malaysia, right?” he nodded. “if she follows the news, she’s probably seen you. one minute, you're gone; the next, you're standing next to earth’s mightiest heroes. that has to raise some questions.”

he didn’t respond right away, but she had a point.

you probably were confused. the last time you saw him, he was barely functioning — frail, high, falling apart by the hour. and now? even he was shocked when he saw the news footage, watching himself looking healthier than he had in years. you must’ve been wondering what the fuck happened.

he nodded slowly. “yeah. yeah, you’re right.”

“always am,” yelena teased, her familiar smirk slipping into place.

she stood, giving his shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze as she passed him. at the door, she glanced back and added with a lightness that almost made him smile, “if you need help writing some grand declaration or heartfelt monologue, you know where to find me.”

bob let out a quiet chuckle as the door clicked shut behind her. and just like that, he was alone again.

the laughter faded quickly, swallowed by the silence that always followed when the noise around him died down. he leaned back into the couch, arms folded over his chest, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. his leg bounced unconsciously — a tell-tale sign he was thinking too much.

the room felt too quiet now, too big. his gaze flicked to the window across the room, where the early evening light spilt in golden and slow. a flicker of memory stirred, the way you used to close the blinds at that exact time of day, saying the light gave you a headache. he was surprised he remembered that at all. most of his time in your apartment had been spent teetering on the edge of consciousness.

he sighed.

what was he doing?

he stood up, paced a little, sat back down. tried distracting himself with his phone, scrolled without seeing anything. realised it wasn't working, and put it back down. your name kept crawling back into his thoughts like a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

he ran a hand through his hair and let out another breath, longer this time. then, before he could talk himself out of it, he reached for his phone once again. your number was still etched into his memory like a scar. he typed it in without hesitation and hit call before he could talk himself out of it.

the second he heard the first ring, dread clawed up his throat. this was a mistake. you were going to hate him. scream at him. call him every name he probably deserved. maybe you'd hang up the moment you heard his voice. and truthfully? you were entitled to.

all he had left was a prayer — one whispered to a god he was sure didn't exist, a desperate plea cast into the air that somehow, some way, you'd understand. that you’d hear him, really hear him, and know that this time… he was ready.

the line clicked. “hello?”

his heart stilled.

it was you. of course it was you. he’d know your voice anywhere: soft but edged with something sharper, something he once lived in and ran from all at once. his mouth opened, but nothing came. his thoughts scattered like startled birds.

oh, god. this was bad. worse than he’d imagined. he hadn’t planned what to say, hadn’t thought beyond the call itself. and now, with your voice echoing in his ear, he was paralysed.

“who is this?” you asked, your tone clipped, impatient. so achingly familiar that it almost made him smile.

he swallowed.

“erm… it’s, er, it’s robbie.”

then came the silence. thick. suffocating.

he could hear you breathing — shallow and quick, the rhythm uncannily matching his own. a mirrored panic, a shared ghost between two people who hadn’t spoken in what felt like lifetimes.

in that stillness, guilt pressed against his chest like an invasion. this was a mistake. he knew it. he shouldn’t have done this. shouldn’t have called. you had probably moved on. maybe not fully healed, maybe not whole, but at least moving forward. and here he was again. dragging you backward, back into the tide he had spent so long pulling you under.

he almost hung up. the urge was there, hot and bitter in the back of his throat. he wanted to spare you — wanted to say never mind, forget i called, go back to your peace. but he couldn’t, not again. not after all the other times he’d left things half-said, shattered, and bleeding on the floor between you.

so he waited.

waited for your voice like it was the only thing tethering him to this moment, to the man he was trying to become. if it took a lifetime for you to speak again, he’d sit in that silence. he owed you that much.

then, a soft clearing of your throat. and finally, your voice. “hi…”

just one word, but it carried so much weight. the sharpness he expected wasn’t there. what came instead was something gentler, cautious, like touching a bruise to see if it still hurt.

“hi…” he echoed, voice equally uncertain, both of you caught in the strange gravity of old ghosts.

he hadn’t thought this far ahead. he knew he wanted to apologise, but the words i'm sorry felt heavy, clumsy, unworthy of the damage they were meant to mend. did he ease into it? or tear the scab off in one go?

a pause. then you spoke again. this time stronger, but raw around the edges.

“why are you calling? i haven’t heard from you in two years.”

the words cut deep, but not as much as the ache behind them. even across the distance, he could feel your hurt, the sting of betrayal still clinging to you like smoke. and the guilt came back like a wave — not the gentle kind that laps at the shore, but the kind that crashes in the open sea, wild and unforgiving, built to drown.

there was always a different kind of guilt when it came to you. not the kind that passed with time or could be shrugged off. no, this was the kind that lived in his bones. the kind that turned in his chest like a storm. he couldn’t name it exactly, only that every time he made you cry, every time he disappointed you, it felt like the sky was falling, like something sacred had been broken. and now, he was on the line, trying to pick up the pieces without knowing if he even had the right.

"i miss you. so much." he whispered, already feeling the emotion crawling up on him, voice catching in the back of his throat, "and i — i wanna apologise properly."

he heard the quiet scoff slip from your mouth and winced, because he understood. of course he did. he had walked out of your life two years ago and only now decided it was time to apologise, through a phone call, no less. not in person, just his voice over static, like a poltergeist trying to make peace.

and maybe, in his mind, that had seemed reasonable. you were in another state — or at least, he assumed you were — and he was stationed in what used to be the avengers tower. still, he knew valentina had enough resources that getting on a plane wouldn’t have been an issue. he could’ve shown up, looked you in the eye, and owned what he did. but he hadn’t. because somewhere deep down, he was still a coward.

you didn’t say anything. the silence pressed, thick and unreadable. so he pushed forward. “it’s not gonna mean much, i know that,” he murmured, voice low and heavy. “but... m'sorry. i knew what i was doin' the whole time. and i still did it anyway.”

a pause.

then your voice, sharp and wounded: “that’s seriously all you have to say?”

on the other end of the line, you could hardly process what was happening.

seven months ago, you saw bob on the news and nearly fell apart. whatever progress you’d made, or tried to convince yourself you’d made, shattered in an instant. everything you’d built to survive without him crumbled like it was made of sand.

and so, you rebuilt. not through healing, but through denial. you buried everything you felt, shoved it so far down that you forgot what it was like to feel anything at all. you let your life shrink to the bare bones, just the dull rhythm of a nine-to-five that barely paid your bills, just enough to stay afloat while ignoring the hollow space where he used to be.

now here he was, once again threatening to unravel the frail life you’d pieced together without him. maybe he meant well — he said as much — but it was hard to believe that after seven months of silence, after aligning himself with them, now was the moment he chose to reach out.

you hoped he still remembered how you felt about the so-called heroes he now lived among. it was never about powers; you weren't prejudiced. you didn’t fear them for what they could do, but for what they believed they had the right to do. the god complex. the ease with which they levelled cities and called it salvation, the way they called themselves heroes with the blood of the innocent still on their boots.

and for bob to not just work with them but to live with them, to call them friends — it stung more than you wanted to admit.

"when i saw you on the news… you looked happy. healthy." you paused, swallowing hard, your voice already thinning. "and i know it shouldn’t have made me feel the way it did — because god, rob, i am so proud of you — but it... it still hurt."

you heard nothing on the other end. just the hush of his breath. it made the silence louder somehow.

"it’s selfish," you admitted, your voice cracking at the edge. "i know that. but after everything. after all the nights i stayed up, prayin' you'd make it through, after all that fuckin' money i spent on you, every time i tried to help you get clean. it just felt like none of that mattered. like it all meant nothin'."

you pulled your knees up to your chest, curling tighter around the ache building in your ribs.

"because now you’re better, but for them," you went on, more bitterly than you’d intended, "for a group of mercs you barely know. for people who don't know the worst parts of you like i do."

your voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"how do you think that makes me feel?"

and with that, the floodgates fully opened — not just in your words, but in your body, too. you hadn't meant to ramble. but years of grief, restraint, and unspoken heartbreak finally clawed their way out, heavy and breathless, collapsing between you like something sacred and ruined.

a heavy silence settled between the two of you, thick and unmoving, like fog that refused to lift. and now, in the stillness that followed, came the slow ache of guilt. the guilt of having finally laid yourself bare. you had never told him everything, never allowed yourself to unravel like this in front of him. you were always the one listening, never the one speaking.

you didn’t think you were allowed to. his pain had always taken up more space, louder, darker, and far more dangerous. that was never his fault. it wasn’t that he asked you to stay quiet. you just convinced yourself that your hurt didn’t matter as much.

not compared to his.

robert reynolds, age 19

you're surprised you didn't cry when you walked into your apartment and saw the destruction.

you had only recently moved out of your mother’s house and into the small one-bedroom apartment. it wasn’t much, but it was yours. yours, and sometimes bob's. it was the first place that felt remotely like safety, like something you’d built for yourself. and you were content, or at least as close to content as life would allow.

so when you opened the door and found every mirror in your home shattered, the air seemed to vanish from your lungs. it was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the fragile sense of peace you’d tried so hard to build.

then you saw him.

bob was in your kitchen, pacing like a man possessed. his fists were raw and bloodied, lips moving rapidly as he muttered to himself, oblivious to the crimson smears on your walls, the glass crunching beneath his shoes.

“rob?” your voice came out softer than you'd intended, cautious. like approaching a wild animal. “is everything okay?”

he jumped at the sound of your voice, whipping around with wide, panicked eyes. he was hyperventilating, chest heaving.

“they’re watchin’ me!” he rasped. “the cops, the psychiatrist — they’re behind the mirrors. they’re just waitin’ for me to fuck up so they can haul me in!”

you swallowed hard, stepping forward with trembling hands.

in that moment, you weren’t sure how to help him, not really. this was the first time you’d seen him like this, lost in the thick fog of psychosis, and you weren’t a trained psychologist. you were just someone who loved him, standing in the wreckage of your apartment, trying to piece him back together with nothing but trembling hands and good intentions.

what were you even supposed to say? were you meant to challenge the delusions? agree with them? redirect? you didn’t know the rules. you only knew that whatever he was seeing, whatever he believed — it was real to him. but if there was one thing you were sure of, it was this: panic only fed the fire. so the first step, you figured, was to steady your own voice. quiet the fear clanging around in your chest and try to calm him, even if you had no idea what you were doing.

“no, robbie… they’re not watching you,” you said gently, nodding toward the shards littering the floor. “you broke them all. see?”

your plan to calm him down unravelled the moment you spoke. he clenched his fists and yelled. loud, frantic, accusing. he said you were lying. that they were watching him. that he was scared.

you stepped forward, slowly, careful not to make it worse. close enough that he could hear your breath if he listened, but not so close that he’d feel crowded. you tried to be still, to be something steady in the chaos. a calm presence he could mirror, if only for a moment.

but you weren’t calm. not even close. inside, you were spiralling, panicking in ways you never had before. you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the thin glass sheen in your eyes or the quiet tremble threading through your fingers. you hoped he wouldn’t see the fear sitting just beneath your skin, because if he did, he would just get worse. and that was something you weren't ready to see.

“if they were watching… they’d be behind the mirrors, right?” you asked gently, voice careful, unsure of how to reach him.

his eyes widened with panic. “why can’t you see?” he shouted, his voice sharp with desperation. in an instant, he closed the space between you, grabbing your arms with shaking hands, as if clutching you might force understanding into your bones. “they’re there, i swear! why won’t you believe me?”

you didn’t flinch, even as his grip tightened. you just looked at him — really looked. the fear etched into his face, the wildness in his eyes, the trembling in his body. and then, as if the fight drained from him all at once, he collapsed forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“please,” he choked out between sobs. “i’m not lyin'. i swear i’m not.”

you wrapped your arms around him instinctively, one hand gently moving up and down his back. you held him while his body shook against yours, offering the only comfort you could in a moment far too big for either of you. there were no right words, only presence. so you stayed.

and you let him cry because you didn't know what else to do.

robert reynolds, present day

he didn’t know how to begin. no words felt right, or strong enough, to bridge the space between what you believed and what he knew to be true.

what you were saying wasn’t right, not exactly. you couldn’t have known about the serum, about how it sculpted his good and bad days into something monstrous, about how it rewired him in a way that made getting high impossible. but how could he explain that to you now, over a phone line already strained with years of silence?

“no — no, that’s not what happened,” he said quickly, his voice laced with urgency, but it felt like trying to plug a leak with trembling hands. you wouldn’t believe him, not like this.

he closed his eyes. it wasn’t enough. none of this would be enough unless he saw you.

he’d panic; he was sure of it. he’d say the wrong thing, trip over his words, and make it worse. but even with that certainty curling in his stomach like a threat, he knew he needed to see you. face-to-face, no barriers, no excuses.

only then could he try to make things right.

"listen, i wanna make it right. i'm in new york, but i can fly out," he said quickly, desperation bleeding into every syllable. "you're still in florida, right?" he clung to the question like a lifeline, to the hope that maybe he could still fix something when all he’d ever known was how to break them.

there was a pause. then your voice came, soft and aching: "no... i'm sorry, robbie. i don’t think i can face you. not right now."

and just like that, something inside him caved in.

it’s strange, he thought, how the heart makes no sound when it shatters. not a crack, not a thud — just silence, sudden and swallowing.

#mars writes *:･ﾟ #bob reynolds ⋆#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds angst #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds angst #sentry #the void #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts #new avengers #mcu #marvel #marvel mcu

250 notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 2 years ago

Text

bad blood (lando's version) | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem carlos ex!reader

band aid's don't fix bullet holes but his best friend might

based on this request:so reader is a famous model who’s also carlos ex (dated YEARS) and after the breakup he jumped straight to rebeca (we just need a tiny bit of bad blood). soo she and lando always got along, ever since carlos was in mclaren. the point is they get together and come hand in hand to a gp out of nowhere so drama and more bad blood surface - you can lead this to whatever you want hehe, thanks!!! - @lorenakaspersen

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

vogue

liked by hunterschafer, landonorris and 1,209,433 others

tagged: yourusername

vogue: y/n y/ln takes the cover for this month, where she talks re-discovering herself and giving yourself time to move on. copies in stores everywhere this friday.

view all comments

user1: i am once again asking how the fuck that man fumbled a bad bitch like her

user2: do not bring that man up here, he actually boils my blood

user3: honestly thank god they wear helmets in f1 cause if i saw his smug little face i may have smashed by tv

yourusername: thank you for having me hehehehhe xx

vogue: you dropped this queen 👑

user4: not vogue supporting her more than carlos ever did 🤨

user5: at least lando still supports her

user6: i'm glad the friends she made... i.e lando, charles, max, daniel, etc did also abandon her when carlos just dropped her

hunterschafer: you're the person i see in your dreams

yourusername: are you sure i'm not just your sleep paralysis demon?

hunterschafer: you're welcome to stalk mine dreams anytime

user7: how am i meant to care about f1 without y/n?

user8: she's the reason i learnt about the sport but at leats now i have an excuse to support someone else LOL

landonorris: tinkerbell looks a little bit different here

yourusername: i thought you were too old to watch peter pan?

landonorris: i just said that so you would think i'm a big macho man :(

yourusername: that is tragic

landonorris: can i interest you in a movie night some time soon then

yourusername: you might

user9: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE ^^

user10: idk but i am excited

f1wagupdates

liked by user11, user12 and 4,032 others

f1wagsupdates: carlos sainz debuts his new girlfriend rebecca donaldson at the bahrain grand prix, just one month after breaking up with model y/n y/ln. sainz and y/ln were together for three years, and sainz was seen with donaldson for the first time just a week after the breakup.

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user13: lol the wag accounts are done with his ass

f1wagsupdates: i am a y/n y/ln stan first and foremost

user14: anyone see the absolute stink eye charles and lando gave carlos LOL

user15: that's the thing when you're together for so long, the friends get attached as well

user16: i mean if certified homie hopper charles leclerc is calling your bluff then you know you've fucked up

user17: i will never understand how he jumped into a relationship with her after three years ?? LIKE IT WAS NOTHING

user18: things like that make me glad i'm single

user19: the thing that is bothering me that no one has said yet is the fact that he's been with her what a month? and he's already brought her to a race when he made y/n wait months to go to a race?

user20: screams insecurity - like "look i have moved on, i'm an alpha male who can get whoever i want"

user21: i never understood why he didn't let her come to races for months when they first got together, like not even his home race?

user22: i've always got the vibe that he thought that he was better than her and that she was using him?

user23: the way if he ever posted her (which was not very often) he never tagged her

user24: which is ironic because she's one of the most celebrated models in recent history, she has millions more followers than him and has a bigger network than him, so really if anyone was using anyone it was carlos using her

user25: anyone else pulling for her to get with lando?

user26: i always thought they got on more in the videos of them all together but honestly i just want her to be happy

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 2,018,552 others

yourusername: not much going on recently

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user27: SHE'S SO HOT

user28: i need her to give me one chance please

charles_leclerc: are we still down for the road trip to lourdes?

yourusername: needed now more than ever

charles_leclerc: trust and believe

user29: charles and y/n friendship you mean so much to me

user30: need her to sit in charles' side of the garage

user31: mother went to the university of servington where she got a degree is cuntology with a minor in slaying the haus down

danielricciardo: miss ma'am, leave some for the rest of us

yourusername: why thank you good sir

danielricciardo: where do i procure a veil as such?

yourusername: i may source one for you if you promise not to shave that moustache

heidiberger: preach

user32: i bet carlos just thought everyone would just forget about y/n when he dropped her, but he forgot that she's probably more liked on the grid than he is LOL

landonorris: why are you staring into my soul like that

yourusername: why are you lurking in my comment section

landonorris: i thought we were friends :(

yourusername: always and forever

user33: but he wants it to be more

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo

user33: I SAW THAT LANDO X Y/N COMING SOON?

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 803,774 others

landonorris: hostess with the most-ess?

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user34: is that a ... WOMAN?

user35: he's saying he's a host ... maybe he's hosting a friend who is a girl, it's not illegal

user36: i get your sentiment, but that photo is straight out of the soft launch girlfriend pinterest boards

user37: well now i'm picturing lando scrolling through pinterest and asking ??? to recreate the pics 😭

carlossainz55: missing my golf partner, round this weekend? ⛳️

landonorris: let me check my schedule buddy 👍

user38: okay... well someone else tell me that they can feel the vibe shift

user39: it's their first online interaction after the breakup, i think we can guess who's side lando is on

oscarpiastri: someone needs to debrief me asap

landonorris: someone forgot that he owns a phone

oscarpiastri: needed the added pressure of the public call out to make you actually do it

landonorris: fine, but you get three questions and that's it

user40: if the call out was public can't we get the public answers

yourusername: are you coming for my job?

landonorris: you saying i could model 😊

yourusername: i'm definitely saying you should let me give my agent your number

landonorris: you already have my number babe

yourusername: okay pretty boy

user41: i need this type of nepotism in my life

user42: i need the nepotism and the sexual tension cause PHEW it is through the roof

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2,760,521 others

yourusername: enjoy the picture of me fucking up a pretzel

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user46: okay where are the detective freaks from f1twt?

user47: reporting for duty 🫡

user46: what car is that?

user47: it looks strikingly similar to a jolly, but i don't know if that's just my brain pushing me to make it lando. but there is a florist in monaco that wraps their flowers just like that as well ....

user46: thank you for your service

danielricciardo: this is very ballerina core 🩰

yourusername: has the old man been spending time on the internet?

danielricciardo: yes he has 😃

yourusername: omg proud

danielricciardo: no but seriously how did you do it? it looks sick

yourusername: very fiddly, needed an extra pair of hands

danielricciardo: an extra pair of hands [wiggles eyebrows]

yourusername: did you just comment your own stage directions?

danielricciardo: funny 😄

user48: okay i am glad we're not being deprived of the y/n and daniel friendship.

landonorris: i am enjoying this picture of you fucking up a pretzel

yourusername: i am a whore for carbs

landonorris: i am a whore for you

this comment was deleted

landonorris: i am also a whore for carbs (don't tell jon)

maxverstappen1: 📸📸📸 saw that mister !!

landonorris: you didn't see NOTHING

user49: we saw everything. i am so disappointed in lando, he's carlos' bestfriend and he's doing this?

liked by carlossainz55

user50: oh i know this man aint speaking

f1teaandgossip

liked by user51, user52 and 10,945 others

ftteaandgossip: carlos sainz was caught liking this tweet about his ex girlfriend y/n y/ln and his (former?) best friend lando norris. what do you think?

view all comments

user53: the audacity of men never fails to astound me

user54: you know what, i feel like a guilty man only acts this bold. so i'm saying it. i think there was overlap between his relationship with y/n and his relationship with rebecca

user55: you're right and you should say it

user56: carlos got with rebecca within a WEEK of the end of a three year relationship but is angry that she's finally moving on after months ?

user57: for real the first sight of lando and y/n was after at least two months

user58: i know people will say she's in the wrong because it is lando but honestly carlos has no leg to stand on with him parading rebecca around the paddock

user59: i really couldn't give a fuck if lando is his best buddy you act like a fool expect to get treated like a fool

user60: also the whole "whoring around the grid" is so dumb. you mean her FRIENDS? you know the friends she had to make when you would just leave her in the paddock or ignore her at parties ?

user61: babe really thought he was more loved in the paddock and expected everyone to go along with his messiness

user62: men don't talk about women this way challenge

user63: imagine talking about a girl you were with for THREE tears like this

user64: i wish lando and y/n all the best and i hope they're together for a long time, she deserves a good man after all of this

user65: i have faith 🤞

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 3,109,413 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sloppy seconds you say? i never come second with him. pun intended x

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user66: SERVE

user67: user67 found dead in her home, cause of death: this post

landonorris: what can i say i'm a giver 🤷‍♂️

yourusername: i'll say 😮‍💨

oscarpiastri: ENOUGH

landonorris: i thought you were happy for us oscar :(

oscarpiastri: i am !! i even took the second picture. but i think you forget that i am staying with you in monaco :/

yourusername: whoops my bad

landonorris: i swear my hospitality is usually better

yourusername: i can attest to his hospitality

oscarpiastri: STOP PLEASE STOP

user68: poor oscar being traumatised by y/n and lando 😭

carlossainz55: real mature

yourusername: how about instead of liking shady tweets and commenting on my instagram posts, you come confront me like a real fucking person.

carlossainz55: you'd love that wouldn't you

yourusername: i really would because if i said everything you needed to hear i'd be banned from this app

carlossainz55: you really are the gold digging slut my parents warned me about

landonorris: you will absolutely not talk to her that way. if you do so again we'll have a very real problem

carlossainz55: you have no sense of loyalty lando

landonorris: the call is coming from inside the house

user69: the girls are FIGHTING

comments on this post have been limited.

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,866,398 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: nothing better than a podium at home and time with family

view all comments

user72: the sky camera shady as fuck for cutting straight to y/n in the mclaren garage when carlos crashed LOL

user73: her and lando's dad trying not to laugh had me creasing

yourusername: beyond proud of you baby

landonorris: your support means everything pretty girl

yourusername: and your family are the loveliest, tell mama i said thank you for having me (and my sandwiches for the plane)

landonorris: she say's thank you and come back soon (i also want you to come home asap)

user74: he already refers to his house at their home

user75: and y/n has been accepted by the family - the sainzs could take notes

oscarpiastri: oscar piastri erasure

yourusername: sorry osc, you're our favourite pookie on the grid

landonorris: also mama made you sandwiches too

oscarpiastri: i know they were very yummy 😋

danielricciardo: HOLD ON, oscar is your favourite pookie, where am i ???

maxverstappen1: i think you'll find i am their favourite full stop

charles_leclerc: nuh uh it's clearly me

yourusername: i'll just say lando is my favourite

landonorris: and i'll say y/n is my favourite

yourusername: and that's that

danielricciardo: boooooooo.

maxverstappen1: cop out :(

charles_leclerc: 🍅🍅🍅

user76: i am so confused right now

yourusername

liked by bellahadid, landonorris and 3,109,766 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: you are in love, true love.

view all comments

user77: omg the letters? i swear there were letters in her first post after carlos took rebecca to the first race of the season

user78: wait so do you think they were from lando the whole time?

yourusername: yes they are from lando ! after the carlos stuff had somewhat died down he had them all delivered to me and it definitely swayed me for a first date

user79: but i thought some of those letters looked pretty old

landonorris: i won't deny that i liked y/n for a long time but i obviously couldn't express that so i put them in letters. an idiot was an idiot and i'll never not take my chance

user80: okay that makes this whole thing so much cuter

user81: y/n is the definition of never letting your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband

landonorris: you're my best friend and i love you so much

yourusername: i'd go through all this mess and all this heartbreak again if it meant i still end up with you

landonorris: but i'm by your side forever now you can't get rid of me

yourusername: i wouldn't dream of it

user82: lord i have seen it all, please bless me with a relationship like this

danielricciardo: god you people are ridiculously cute

oscarpiastri: just think yourself lucky that you no longer share a garage with them

landonorris: we're not THAT bad

oscarpiastri: i have working ears

yourusername: sorry not sorry osc x

fin.

note: hope you all enjoyed. i am dying trying to do 75 soft but i also signed up for burlesque class !!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris insta au #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 social media au

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gdinthehouseee · 5 months ago

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224: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after being indecisive on the design, you finally get a matching tattoo with ji-yong

word count: 2504

tags: fluff, flirting, smau bonus - (if you have tattoos we'll pretend this was your first ever tattoo, for the plot ofc) also your usernames are within the images :pp

“You know,” Ji-yong muses, tracing lazy circles on your arm as you lay tangled together on the couch, “I still think we should get matching tattoos.”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh. “You’ve been saying that for months.”

“Because I mean it.” He props himself up on his elbow, watching you with that signature smirk—the one that always spells trouble. “I’m covered in them, and you still don’t have a single one. It’s kind of unfair.”

“You say that like I haven’t wanted one,” you argue, nudging his chest. “I’m just… picky. If I’m going to have something on my body forever, it has to be perfect.”

He hums, nodding like he understands, but then his lips curl mischievously. “Oh, I know you’re picky. That’s why I’m mentally preparing myself for the five-hour deliberation when we finally go.”

You scoff. “It won’t take five hours.”

“Mm. No, you’re right. Six hours at least.”

You swat at him, and he laughs, catching your wrist before lacing your fingers together. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, “you overthink things, and I think this is one of those times you don’t have to. It’s about meaning, not just aesthetics.”

You exhale slowly, your fingers idly playing with the chain around his neck. “That’s the thing, though. I want it to mean something. If I get a tattoo, I don’t want to regret it in ten years.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to soft. “I get that,” he says, voice quieter now. “That’s why I want to get something with you. Because I know I’d never regret it.”

You and Ji-yong have never needed grand gestures to prove what you already know—you're in this for life. It’s something you’ve both made clear, in whispered confessions late at night, in the way his fingers always find yours in a crowded room, in the unshakable certainty that no matter what, you’d always choose each other. Marriage is definitely in the cards, something you’ve talked about more than once, not as a distant "what if" but as an inevitable when. But a tattoo? That’s something different. Something permanent in a way that even rings aren’t, ink pressed into skin as a quiet, unwavering promise. If you were going to do this—if—you wanted it to be right. You wanted it to truly mean something.

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his tone, but before you can dwell on it too much, he smirks again. “But since you’re the most indecisive person on the planet, I might have to take matters into my own hands.”

You raise a brow, already suspicious. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“I was thinking... tiny cartoon dragons.”

A groan slips from your lips as you shove his face away, making him laugh. “Ji-yong, no. If I’m getting my first tattoo, it’s not going to be a cartoon dragon.”

“Okay, okay, how about this?” He shifts, pulling out his phone. “We could get something cool—like a symbol, maybe. Or lyrics from a song.” He scrolls through images for a moment before holding up a picture of a delicate script tattoo. “Something simple, like this?”

You tilt your head, considering it. “I like that, but… I don’t know.”

“See?” He grins, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Picky.”

“Thoughtful,” you correct, flicking his forehead.

He chuckles, tucking his face against your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Same thing.”

You smile softly, the idea still floating in your mind. You do want a tattoo, but you want it to be right. Something that matters, something that’s yours. And knowing Ji-yong, he’ll wait as long as you need.

“Alright,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss just below your jaw. “I’ll be patient—for now. But the second you figure it out, I’m taking you straight to the shop. No second-guessing.”

You shake your head, amused. “We’ll see about that.”

His lips brush against your skin again, warm and teasing. “Mark my words, jagiya. One day, you’ll be the one begging me to go first.”

You scoff, but the thought lingers in your mind long after the conversation ends. Maybe he’s right. Maybe one day will be sooner than you think. For the entire week following said conversation, you were kept awake by all the different design possibilities—including everything wrong with them, critiquing every Pinterest board you came across, analysing them like you were a professional.

Like the previous few nights: it’s late—one of those nights where the world outside feels distant, the only sounds in the room are the slow hum of the air conditioning and Ji-yong’s steady breathing beside you. You should be sleeping, but instead, you’re lying on your back, phone in hand, scrolling through tattoo ideas for what feels like the hundredth time.

Ji-yong shifts, his arm tightening around your waist as he buries his face against your shoulder. “You’re thinking too hard again,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “I can hear it.”

You let out a breathy laugh, locking your phone and setting it aside. “You can hear me thinking?”

“Yes,” he groans, shifting onto his elbow to squint at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “It’s loud. Annoyingly loud.”

You roll onto your side to face him, resting your cheek against the pillow. “Well, I can’t help it. This is permanent—I want to get it right.”

He sighs dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “This is worse than when you take an hour to pick a restaurant.”

“Excuse me, that’s an important decision,” you argue. “I need to weigh all my options.”

“It’s food.”

“It’s life or death.”

He huffed a laugh, then pokes your forehead lightly. “See? This is exactly what I mean. You’re gonna think yourself into oblivion if you don’t chill.” He drags you closer until your head is against his chest, his fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes along your back. “We could get anything, and it wouldn’t change a thing. You and me? We’re already forever. Today, tomorrow, and every day after that.”

That’s it! Something clicks in your mind, the way puzzle pieces snap into place. You sit up slightly, your fingers gripping his shirt. “Ji-yong.”

He hums, eyes half-closed. “Mm?”

“What about 224?”

His brows furrow. “224?”

You nod, heartbeat picking up. “Today, tomorrow, forever.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then—his eyes widen slightly, like the meaning is settling in, like it’s really hitting him. He blinks. “Wait.” A slow, almost disbelieving smile tugs at his lips. “You came up with this?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grins, propping himself up on one elbow. “I mean, I’ve been watching you spiral for days over this, and now you suddenly come up with something perfect? My words finally got through to you, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “I hate that you’re right.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he repeats the numbers under his breath. “224… today, tomorrow, forever...” Then, suddenly, his expression shifts—his brows lift slightly, his lips parting as if something just hit him. He shoots up, sitting fully upright now, eyes wide.

“Oh my god.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Ji-yong grabs your hands, his excitement bubbling over. “Two plus two plus four!”

“What?”

“It adds up to eight!” His grip tightens as he shakes your hands a little, like he can’t contain himself. “Eight!”

You blink again. “And?”

He looks borderline offended. “Aein. Eight is my number.”

Realization washes over you. You’ve known about his obsession with the number for years—the symbol of his recent comeback. And now, your number ties into it.

Ji-yong laughs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at you, looking completely smitten. “This is fate. You—” He cuts himself off, then groans dramatically. “You’re gonna make me fall in love with you all over again.”

You laugh. “Now you’re being dramatic.”

“I’m serious!” He cups your face, tilting it up so you can see just how much he means it. “224. Eight. You and me, forever.”

You grin, warmth spreading through your chest. “So we’re doing it?”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing it.” His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “And I’m making sure everyone knows you came up with it, but I made it iconic.”

You snort, swatting at his chest. “You are unbearable.”

Ji-yong smirks, leaning in to kiss you—slow, deep, certain. But he doesn’t stop at just one kiss. The moment he has you in his lap, his lips are everywhere—pressing soft, lingering kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, the tip of your nose. He hums against your skin, grinning between each press of his lips, murmuring little praises like, "My smart girl," and "how did I get so lucky?" Before capturing your lips again. His hands keep you close, fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your back, as if he can’t bear to let go. When he pulls away just enough to catch his breath, he takes one look at your dazed expression and dives back in, peppering kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, up the curve of your neck, until you're giggling, overwhelmed by the sheer warmth of his affection.

The excitement lingers between you both for days, the decision feeling more perfect with each passing moment. When the appointment finally arrives, Ji-yong insists on making a whole day out of it—because, of course, he does.

You find yourselves at a sleek, upscale tattoo studio, the kind that feels both exclusive and effortlessly cool, much like him. Ji-yong has been here before—he greets the artist like an old friend, all easy smiles and playful banter, while you stand there, heart pounding just a little. He catches your hesitation immediately. His fingers brush against yours before lacing them together, giving your hand a light squeeze. “Nervous?” he asks, tilting his head with that knowing smirk.

You sigh, shifting slightly on your feet. “Maybe a little. I mean, it’s my first tattoo.”

He grins. “And I get to be part of it. I get to be your first.” He leans in, voice dipping playfully. “You sure you can handle that, jagiya?”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder. “You make everything sound suggestive.”

He laughs, pulling you closer. “I’m just saying, it’s a big deal.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple before nudging you toward the tattoo chair. “Come on, let’s make history.”

The artist preps everything, and before long, the stencil of 224 is placed on your skin, just beneath your wrist. You stare at it, taking in the simple yet meaningful numbers. It already feels like a part of you.

Ji-yong watches you carefully, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your other wrist. “Looks good?”

You nod, exhaling. “Yeah. More than good.”

He grins, looking genuinely proud. “Then let’s do this.”

When the needle touches your skin, you brace yourself—but Ji-yong is right there, his hand never leaving yours, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, squeezing your fingers lightly. “Told you it wouldn’t be that bad.”

“Says the guy covered in tattoos.”

“Fair.”

When it’s his turn, he barely even flinches, watching with an easy, satisfied smile as the same numbers are inked into his skin. When it’s done, he lifts his arm beside yours, comparing the matching tattoos with a pleased hum.

“Perfect,” he says simply. Then, he turns to you, eyes softening. “Just like us.”

Your heart swells. And when he kisses you right there in the chair, not caring about the artist’s amused snort, you know there’s no one else you’d rather have by your side—today, tomorrow, forever.

The buzz of adrenaline from getting the tattoo still lingers as you step out of the shop, his fingers laced with yours once again, his grip warm and steady. He swings your joined hands between you as he smirks down at your fresh ink. “We did it. Matching tattoos. No going back now, baby.”

You glance up at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “Oh, I don’t know… I hear laser removal is pretty advanced these days.”

His mouth drops open in exaggerated offense. “Excuse me?”

You bite back a smile, shrugging. “I mean, if you ever get sick of me—”

He cuts you off immediately, tugging you flush against him. “Not a damn chance,” he murmurs, voice low and certain. “You’re stuck with me now. Today, tomorrow, forever, remember?”

Your heart flips, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand that easily. Smirking, you trace your fingers along the collar of his jacket. “Guess I should start thinking about what other permanent marks I wanna leave on you, then.”

His eyes darken just slightly, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Oh, now we’re talking.”

Dinner is at one of your favorite spots, a place tucked away from prying eyes, where dim lighting and soft music make everything feel intimate. Ji-yong insists on ordering for both of you, leaning across the table with his usual confidence. “Trust me, I know exactly what you need.”

And, annoyingly, he’s right. The food is perfect.

Midway through the meal, you glance down at your hand resting on the table, the fresh tattoo peeking out from under your sleeve. The sight of it still feels surreal—permanent proof of something that was never in question. You reach for your phone, snapping a quick picture before turning to Ji-yong. “Should I post it?”

His eyes light up instantly. “You want to?”

You shrug, smirking. “Well, I mean… it’d be kind of cruel not to let everyone lose their minds over it.”

He grins, leaning forward with clear excitement. “Oh, I love when you’re the troublemaker.”

Laughing, you tap out a caption, keeping it simple but meaningful.

As soon as you hit post, your phone explodes with notifications. Fans are already freaking out, but the real fun starts when you notice familiar names popping up in the comments.

Ji-yong, who has been watching you with amusement, leans over slightly. “Alright, who’s losing it the most?”

You scroll through, grinning. “Let’s see…”

Daesung: I knew it. You two are disgusting. (Also, congrats 😭❤️)

CL: Finally. My favorite power couple stays winning.

ROSE: 224… I’m emotional. This is beautiful.

Seunghyun: A timeless commitment. Very fitting.

Minzy: Love is real 😭💜

Taeyang: Ok but who cried first? Be honest.

Ji-yong snorts at that last one. “Should I comment back and expose you?”

You shoot him a look. “Me? Don’t even try it. You were the one getting all sentimental about forever first.”

“That’s because I meant it.”

Your heart does that annoying little flip again, and before he can tease you for it, you shake your head, grinning as you type a response to Taeyang:

You already know it was him.

“Wow. Betrayal.”

You just laugh, sliding your phone across the table. “Here, go defend your honor.”

Instead of taking it, he leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’ve got better things to do.”

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull

#kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon #gdragon x reader #bigbang #bigbang x reader #fluff #tattoo #kpop x reader #kpop

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pantoneyoongi · 2 months ago

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in love with love (with you) || slow dance

series ; in love with love (with you) description ; you’re a romantic. jungkook? jungkook is not.

title ; slow dance

word count ; 3.9k

notes ;

a drabble for the in love with love (with you) series! in which jungkook did not (but also didn’t not) take you to prom. (or: among the first of many times jungkook makes excuses just to be good to you.)

tags ; high school!au, fluff, sickening levels of fluff, my god i love them, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint, frenemies to lovers, this is like mostly unedited but oh well, no u don’t understand i really really love them so much, pls go to main masterlist for more / general tags

you don’t go to prom with jungkook.

actually, you don’t go to prom with anyone. you suppose you could’ve asked taehyung or jimin to come home - they would’ve - but you can’t bring yourself to ask them to pay for a flight right around their finals season at university, just to come and take you to a high school dance. you really can’t justify it. especially not when you do technically have someone to spend the night with, even if you didn’t, technically, go with him.

see, you and jungkook are not friends. you’re also not not friends. your relationship with jungkook is a lot of nots, and not nots. like, his tie doesn’t match your dress. it also doesn’t not match your dress. the color is just one shade off.

and he didn’t ask you to go with him, and you certainly didn’t ask him, but he still showed up with a corsage for you, claiming that he had to buy it as a set with his boutonniere, and then muttering some kind of excuse about his mom wanting to see him with the boutonniere, and it’s not like he has a date either, so he may as well give you the corsage, because who else would he give it to?

which is funny, in retrospect, because it’s not like jungkook is incapable of getting a date. unlike you, jungkook is popular, well liked, and - while you would never be caught dead admitting this - terribly handsome. at least, according to your classmates he is. he has round eyes that shine when he gets excited and his two front teeth are just slightly more pronounced, so he always looks a bit like a bunny, and the hair that falls just so over his eyes is impossibly soft, something you know only because you yank on it every so often whenever he’s managed to irritate you more than usual (especially now that jisoo isn’t around to stop you from tearing his hair out).

he’s handsome in all the ways a high school senior could be. he’s even got the charming personality to match, as long as he’s talking to anyone that isn’t you. there was probably a long line of people - across all year levels - just hoping he’d ask. but he didn’t.

so, yeah. you don’t go to prom with jungkook.

you also don’t not go to prom with jungkook. because he’s the one who drives you to the venue - “it’s easier to carpool, anyways, and i don’t trust your driving skills,” so the two of you show up together. your eyes go wide at the sight of the fancy hotel - glittering chandeliers, plush, carpeted floors, smooth, dark wood bordering the entrance. jungkook steps in beside you, looking unimpressed with the decor, but he doesn’t leave your side, either. lets you take it all in, lips parting with awe, a smile slowly forming on your face. he’s more interested in watching the emotions flit across your face than he is with the grandeur - all your excitement, the mesmerization, the giddiness. you don’t have a date, but anything can happen. the scene has already been set - so what the main lead opposite you has yet to be cast?

you’ve always fantasized of a beautiful, perfect prom night. the same way you dreamed about a handsome senior whisking you off your feet when you were a freshman, or having a sophomore year classmate be the perfect gentleman for you and offering you his hoodie in that one class you had where the air conditioner was always on a little too high. even junior year, when you should have reasonably broken out of your childish daydreams, you wondered about a boyfriend who might study with you as you prepared for college entrance exams, someone to drape a blanket over your shoulders when you fell asleep on your textbooks.

but prom - prom had a four year lead-up. prom had the gorgeous backdrop, and the glittering decorations, and the lavish dress. prom had the adorable promposals that you watched seniors give their dates every year until you became a senior waiting for one, too. even though you knew it would never come.

still. maybe somebody will catch your eye from across the floor. slow dance with you, twirl you around, place a hand at your back, tip you low, maybe even kiss you at the end of the night. tuck that one, inevitable stray hair behind your ear. stare at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself.

jungkook can’t say he understands, but he’ll let you have it, at least for tonight. the teasing can wait till morning. for some reason, he can’t muster his usual antics right now. something about your dress, the blush across your cheeks, the delicate necklace brushing your collarbones - any number of these things combined, even - makes the words die on his lips every time he tries.

you look so beautiful, it makes him breathless, but he won’t admit that.

finally, you continue in, following the signs to the ballroom for the dance. there’s already crowds of people there - your classmates spread across the dance floor, laughing and singing along and dancing wildly to the music that’s so loud jungkook can feel the bass reverberating in his entire body. you wince a little but it doesn’t stop the delight crossing your features even as you’re lifting your hands to cover your ears on reflex. you wander about the ballroom, jungkook following after you everywhere you go.

“you can go hang out with your friends, you know,” you finally turn to him, though you’re basically shouting it over the music. jungkook considers pretending not to hear, but whether he likes it or not, hell, whether you like it or not, you know him better than that.

“nice try,” he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “you think i don’t know you’re gonna tell jisoo i ditched you at this dance? i’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

you scowl. he so good at fouling your mood. but he loves the way your brows draw in, how your jaw sets stubbornly, every time he gets on your nerves. it stokes a fire inside him that makes him smirk back at you.

“i’m gonna tell her you didn’t ditch me at this dance, and instead spent the whole night annoying me,” you retort back. “then you really won’t hear the end of it. from me.”

it’s supposed to be a threat, but jungkook feels sparks in his bloodstream instead, and he grins back. leans forward, matches your height. “is that a promise?”

you let out an aggravated sound, one hand shoving his shoulder. he barely budges, but he does at least relent a little and straighten back up, hands sliding into his pockets. you’re glaring at him in a way that always makes his heart beat a little fast, something he largely attributes to a feeling of victory. he loves getting you to make that expression at him - nose wrinkled, lower lip jutting out in the smallest of pouts, shoulders raised like you want to hit him.

it’s kind of adorable. in like, a small, angry creature kind of way.

though if you heard him call you a creature, he’s pretty sure you’d start aiming for body parts he’d prefer remain intact.

“come on,” he says instead. “it’s prom. i promised taehyung i’d make sure you’d have a good time.”

“i don’t need your promises,” you mutter back, but jungkook hears it even above the music, mostly because you whip your face away from him to hide your expression, but he sees it anyway, and this one he doesn’t like. he’s all for the cute, annoyed huffing and puffing you do, but not the brief cut of hurt that crosses your features. he crossed the line somehow. he hates crossing the line - because he always does it without meaning to.

“i didn’t - i didn’t mean it like that,” jungkook tries, but you’ve got too much pride to let jungkook apologize, instead lifting your chin high.

“if you’re gonna stick to me, then you better dance, too.”

jungkook swallows down what you don’t want to hear, even if he needs you to know it. maybe he can show you, instead. he’s not keeping you company just because of some silly promise he made taehyung, or because there’s no one else to stick by your side. he’s here because he wants to be. he wouldn’t have even come tonight if not for you.

his eyes light like you’ve issued him a challenge - and jungkook has always been competitive. “better keep up, princess.”

you collapse into a chair, kicking your heels off. jungkook settles into the seat beside you, albeit a little less out of breath. you loll your head towards him, tracing the outline of his neatly combed hair, his shoulders, the way his hands fumble a little with his tie, trying to loosen it. you’re both tired from jumping and dancing and screaming along to well-known songs remixed into one massive run-on song, but true to his word, jungkook did make sure you had a good time. you reach over, smacking his hands out of the way. “i can’t believe you still can’t figure out how to work a tie. shouldn’t it be easier to loosen than it is to put on?”

“you’ve met my mother,” jungkook gripes back. “she ties things like she’s trying to make sure it can never be untied again. i think she might want me to live in this suit forever actually.”

you roll your eyes, managing to hook a finger into the knot and wiggle it a little looser. jungkook inhales a deep breath, dramatic enough that you give into your giggles, and he has to hide his smile behind one hand.

“what now?” he asks, after you’ve both sat in silence - or, as much silence as could be had in a room full of teenagers at a school dance. you hum, one foot nudging at the heel you discarded on the floor earlier.

“well…”

jungkook narrows his eyes. “of course you have something.”

you shoot him a sly smile. “i did a little research before the dance.”

jungkook eyes you warily. “who does research for prom? actually - i don’t think romcoms count as research, y/n.”

you throw him a dirty look. “shut up. i meant about the hotel,” you make a vague gesture towards your surroundings. you bite your lip, and jungkook definitely doesn’t focus on the action. you glance back at him and he snaps his eyes back up to yours.

“there’s supposedly a garden on the sixteenth floor,” you tell him. “it’s usually only for people who, y’know, rented a room or whatever, but it’s not like you need a key or anything to get in, so honestly, once you’re in the hotel, it’s pretty much fair game.” you shrug, but there’s a hopeful shine to your eyes. “the pictures looked really pretty.”

jungkook tries not to sigh. of course. of course even at a school event, you found a perfect, romantic getaway to sneak off to. jungkook thinks you could probably find a romantic setting anywhere you go. or you’d just make one yourself. you could probably dress up a dumpster well enough to make it look like the start to a love story.

jungkook waves a begrudging hand. “lead the way.”

you jump up immediately. he heaves himself out of his chair to follow you, snagging the heels you’d decided to ditch from off the ground. he doesn’t know how you can bear to walk barefoot around the hotel, but he supposes all the carpet feels better than the three-inch heels you’d manages to dance in almost all night. you’ll probably want them later, once you reach the garden.

the two of you sneak past other hotel-goers, and hotel staff, too, slipping into the elevator and thankfully making it up to the sixteenth floor without any stops. you wander down the halls until you spot the glass doors, glancing back at jungkook, giving him only a quick glimpse of the bright, unadulterated joy in your eyes before you’re pushing the doors open, wandering into the garden.

your reaction at the hotel entrance is nothing compared to this. this, you’ve been waiting for since you stumbled upon it a couple days after the prom location was announced. you pause so abruptly that jungkook nearly bumps into you, stabilizing himself against one of the columns that border a walkway that aligns with the wall of the hotel. he’s about to nag you about it, but all that comes out is a quiet exhale, catching the wonder in your eyes as you survey what’s in front of you.

he’ll admit, it is certainly pretty. it’s dark out, but there’s fairy lights strung about, illuminating the open space in a soft glow, just enough that you can see the pretty reds and purples and blues of the flowers, the deep greens of their leaves and the bushes surrounding them. there’s gravel, too, in shades of white and tan, bordering a pathway that cuts through the garden, to a small, white, octagonal pavilion. there’s nothing inside the pavilion but a bench that borders the entirety of it, but there’s vines that climb up the white beams, interspersed with flowers jungkook can’t even begin to name, but he’s sure you must know each and every one, and all the meanings that come attached to them, too.

you begin to take a step out, but jungkook catches you by the arm. the immediate frown you give him makes him snicker, but he sets your heels down at the ground before you. “it’s pretty,” he allows. “but with flowers comes bugs. pretty sure you’re not gonna wanna step on one.”

you make a face, but slip your heels back on, using jungkook to balance yourself. you figure he’s in a good enough mood, loose from the mocktails and the dancing, that he doesn’t say anything about the way your fingers grip onto his elbow.

as soon as the shoes are on, though, you’re off. your fingers brush the petals, touch feather light, and you breathe in the sweet smell, closing your eyes briefly. jungkook trails after you, following you around the garden, walking the tiny pathways. you have a small smile on your face the whole time, like you’re falling a little in love with the flowers. you would, jungkook muses. he’s pretty sure you could fall in love with almost anything.

when you’ve had your fill of the garden itself, you move towards the pavilion. you take a seat on the bench, resting an arm on the ledge as you peer out at all the flowers and greenery and little lights. jungkook joins you, but he doesn’t sit, just observes with you. it’s so quiet up here, a deep contrast to the dance happening sixteen floors down.

his gaze falls to you. you look at peace here, a little sleepy, even, but happy. but for jungkook, that’s not enough. it’s prom night. you’re here, in a dress that sways with your every movement, with your makeup and hair done up nice, and jungkook has no idea what compels him to do it, but he reaches a hand out to you.

you blink at his palm. stare blankly for a half-minute. “yes?”

jungkook clicks his tongue against his teeth, grabbing your hand. “didn’t you want a slow dance?”

he pulls you to your feet. you don’t have to know that his roughness has nothing to do with him pretending to begrudgingly grant you your wishes for prom. that maybe he just wants to hold your hand and feel you stumble into his chest. maybe he thinks you look beautiful in your dress, maybe he adores the way your cheeks turn a little pink with surprise. maybe he wants to feel your palm in his and know that he’s making you happy, because you always wanted to slow dance with someone.

there’s no music here - there’s no one up here at all but the two of you - and that makes it all the more romantic. and he knows it. knows it because he knows you, knows you love this kind of thing, so maybe that’s why he does it. because jimin isn’t here, and taehyung isn’t here, and even yoongi isn’t here, but jungkook is.

jungkook would rather die than say it out loud, but he loves this look on your face too. loves being the one - for once - to put it on you. not your angry, sullen pout, but the stars in your eyes, and how he can practically feel the way your heart races, even if he’s sure he’s not the reason - just the situation, the circumstance. after all, you love romance. you love the twinkling lights, the cool night air, even the clumsy steps the two of you take as you move in circles around the pavilion.

this was what you wanted tonight, even if jungkook isn’t the person you pictured doing it with.

he makes prom magical for you, in this moment. what you don’t know is that you make prom magical for him, too.

breathless.

his heart skips a beat in his chest, as he gazes down at you. you’re not looking at him - still too in love with the setting, the lattice on one side of the pavillion, the short post lanterns, the view over his shoulder from being sixteen floors up. but that’s okay. if you’re not looking at him, that means he can look at you.

it’s circumstance, jungkook thinks. you’re as close to a date as he’s got, and he’s slow dancing with the prettiest girl in school, alone in a garden straight out of a fairy book. if his heart is doing double time, it has nothing to do with you. the same way you’re probably not even thinking about him. only that you’re dancing in a pavilion that could’ve come straight out of a pride and prejudice movie, and when jungkook spins you out and then back to him - that uninhibited, radiant smile isn’t for him. can’t possibly. it’s for that bucket list you keep, of all the things you want to do, of all the ways you want to love and be loved. just like this.

jungkook doesn’t think about that night for years to follow.

except, well, there’s a photo saved on his phone. a couple of them, actually. he never deleted them, and they’re from so far back that no one ever really scrolls that far in his camera roll, so it’s practically hidden.

a little under seven years after the fact, you have your legs thrown over his lap. jungkook is letting you play with his phone, doesn’t really care what you do with it - and you frown. “jungkook.”

he hums. he’s half asleep on the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. he’s pretty comfortable with you here, one hand on your calf, kind of unbelievably pleased with himself that the two of you have moved into a stage where you’re cuddled into his side, head on his shoulder, doing whatever it is you like to do with his phone (usually play mobile animal crossing on his account), while he falls asleep. but you nudge him again. “jungkook,” you insist.

“hmm,” he blinks his eyes open. “what?”

“is this me?”

well, probably. jungkook doesn’t have a lot of photos of people on his phone who aren’t you, or your mutual friends. he doesn’t think twice about it when he peers at his phone, but when he sees the picture, he snatches his phone away from you on pure instinct, so fast that you startle, jerking back a little. “kook?”

it’s not a secret. obviously not, considering he’s never purposefully hidden it on his phone. but he’s kept the pictures for years, refused to delete them, because, okay, yeah, maybe sometimes he likes to scroll back and see them. see you. see that photo of you wandering the gardens, where you’re not even paying the slightest attention to jungkook, but he can spot that lit up smile of yours even in the dim light. or the selfie that he took of the two of you, one that he sends to the group chat later as proof that he stuck by your side all night. jisoo gave him shit on the side for being obsessed with you - at the time, he denied it with fervor. “i’m not,” he’d insisted, but jisoo had clocked him before jungkook had even remotely come close to realizing that hoarding pictures of your prom night in secret meant she was definitively, without a doubt, right.

you’re still staring at him, looking more confused than concerned. he relaxes his shoulders. he has to remember that you like him now. you’ll give him shit for a lot of things but, when it comes to him liking you back, you always get a little shy. like you can’t believe it, either.

he lowers his phone so the two of you can see the screen again. there’s one more photo he kept. the two of you, side by side, with your dress not matching his tie, and not not matching his tie, and you looking breathlessly happy. for once, if not because of, then at least with, jungkook.

he loves this photo. there’s very few photos of just the two of you back when you were teenagers, and even fewer still of you looking so unabashedly happy next to him. you stare, then you stare a little longer, then jungkook watches the flush creep up your neck, to the tips of your ears. just like that, his embarrassment disappears, and he grins, dropping his phone to turn your face towards him.

“i had the best prom date,” he shrugs, relishing in the way you glower back at him.

“you didn’t even ask me to go with you!”

he’s grinning wider as he says, “you wouldn’t have agreed.”

he loves the way this somehow agitates you more. “you don’t know that! maybe, if you promposed well enough, i might’ve considered it.”

he snorts. “there is no promposal i could’ve possibly come up with that could outweigh how much you detested me in high school. please.”

you cross your arms. there’s a glint in your eye that doesn’t match the frown on your face. “skill issue.”

he gapes at you, then tosses his phone to the side altogether, letting it land somewhere on the floor as he flips the two of you until you’re squirming under him on the couch, laughing loudly as he pins you down so you can’t escape. “skill issue? i had half the student population wrapped around my finger-”

“skill issue,” you retort. “i wasn’t one of them.”

“you are now,” he asserts, and you waver, because he’s leaning closer, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of the way he cages you in.

“am not,” you respond, but there’s no weight to your words, and jungkook can’t be bothered to care anymore, because you’re staring at his lips, and he can’t not give you what you want.

you don’t say you want him to kiss you.

you don’t not say it either, and you don’t need to.

jungkook will always love you the way you want to be loved.

the way you deserve to be.

series masterlist ; in love with love (with you)

taglist ; @ahundredtimesover @nadzzzblog @apollukee @codeinebelle @yoongimentita7 @libra04 @welconme-notreally @yeow6n @babyboo22

#jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x yn #fluff #jungkook #series: ilwl #what we're not gonna do is talk about all the other things i haven't finished or updated in literal years btw #anyways thank u for reading!!

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