#WE LOVE TO SEE IT !!!!!

[wolfeyedwitch]

"A witch, not a mage?" Corva asked. She understood the difference in how they used the terms, but she still wasn't clear on exactly what magic each could do.

Well. She wasn't entirely clear on what anyone's magic here could do, to be fair. It was incredibly strange to be next to fellow shadow magic users, and be told they had entirely different skills than her own.

Previous | Masterlist

'Without creating a public outcry'.

There was a serial killer.

And the police wanted to keep that to themselves.

Corva wished she could say she was surprised. Honestly, that was about what she expected. Why bother trying to keep people safe, when you can just keep them quiet?

She did her best to keep her expression neutral. Aloka and Amaya had no such compunctions. Aloka clenched her fists, taking a step towards the officers. Amaya crossed her arms and raised her brows. The two women began speaking nearly in unison.

"Are you seriously telling me-"

"Do the people not deserve-"

"Especially when this is her second-"

"You know where she is!"

It was difficult to tell who was shouting what as they instantly went from calm to screaming at the officers

[beggars-opera]

[letmebegaytodd]

tragedy enjoyers when even good intentions lead to ruin

[em1i2a3]

i don’t know if you take requests but some yearning or very obvious bob having a crush on reader… like full on fluff and everyone makes fun of him cause he’s just that obvious

Plainclothes Man

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone at the compound knows Bob has a massive crush on you–except you.

Warnings: Semi-Spoiler for Thunderbolts because of Bob’s involvement but other than that…None :)

Author's Note: Hey y’all! I do take requests! Just to make that clear! Nothing is really off limits! :) I love this idea! So I thought I would start with it. I kind of rushed it a bit because I have so many ideas going at once for Bob right now, but I wanted to please y’all so hopefully it’s good :)

Word Count: 1,775

Bob was a neon sign of romantic agony.

Everyone could see it.

He was about as subtle as a firework in a library when it came to you, and everyone–everyone but you–knew that he had very obvious feelings for you.

At first, it was just the little things. He would hold the door open for you, make your coffee in the morning, and sometimes he would walk you to your training sessions carrying all your weapons and gear. God forbid you mentioned needing help with something too, because it was like he teleported into the room instantly just to be your knight in shining armor.

It would’ve been sweet–it was sweet–except for the fact that he looked like he was going to pass out every time you smiled at him, or the fact that the first time you touched him he felt like he was having a heart attack.

Not only that, but at the Thunderbolts compound, privacy was a myth. Everyone noticed the way he put you first, and nobody had the emotional maturity to leave it alone, especially during down times when everyone was home with no missions or jobs to run off to.

Idle hands made for cruel commentary.

They started small. Little side-eyes, snorts, giggles, the occasional cough-covered ‘lover boy’ muttered under someone’s breath when Bob stood the moment you entered a room, like he was always on guard.

Then it escalated.

Yelena turned it into a sport, narrating his reactions like a nature documentary when you weren’t present.

”And here we see Bob Reynolds in his natural habitat–blushing violently, hands wringing in his lap, trying not to pass out because Y/N said his name. Observe how he avoids eye contact while trying to remember how to function.” This would make him even more flustered, and only add to his embarrassment of wearing his feelings on his sleeve.

“Please stop,” He would say, with his face on fire.

Ava took to mimicking Bob’s dreamy stares behind your back when the both of you would talk to one another, making sure there was grotesque exaggeration to every detail. How his eyes would widen, and his lips would part, oftentimes she would clutch her chest dramatically and sway from side to side, which only made his cheeks go a bright red as he was talking to you.

Even Alexei, who should’ve had better things to do, began to offer unsolicited advice.

”You must confess, Bob. Women like confidence. You must say, ‘I am man of strength and softness, let us be passionate together!’” Bob nearly choked on the air he breathed, blinking up at Alexei, who was nodding like he had just offered the secret to eternal happiness, and not a line from a Soviet soap opera.

”I…I’m not saying that,” Bob stammered, voice thin with embarrassment.

“Why not?” Alexei boomed, looking over at Walker and Yelena as if they were going to back him up, “You are soft man! Strong man! Women love this contradiction!” Walker sipped his protein shake without looking up from his phone.

”Honestly Bob…It’s not the worst idea he’s had.” Bob looked like someone had just pulled the emergency brake on his nervous system. He was stunned by the agreement the idea was receiving, then he rubbed his hands over his face, like he could scrub away the humiliation clinging to his skin.

”I can’t say that…I’ll die in the middle of it.” Bob muttered, his hands muffling his voice, before hearing a little chuckle coming from Yelena.

”You’re like watching a candle melt under a heat lamp…Take it easy on yourself Bob.” She said, leaning back in her chair.

”Seriously,” Ava added, leaning against the counter with a yogurt in her hand, “ Just say something. Anything at this point will be better than nothing. And please hurry up, because you’re starting to give us secondhand embarrassment with this mating dance you’re doing.” Bob was about to say something then the door creaked open, causing him to pause mid conversation.

Bucky walked in with a towel draped around his neck, drenched in sweat from the endurance run he had done on the treadmill just moments ago, with a look of vague concern on his face.

”What’s with all the noise? I heard Alexei yelling about passion through the vents.” He said, glancing over at everyone who was crowded in the kitchen.

”We’re trying to get Bob to confess his undying love for Y/N.” Yelena replied, watching as Bucky looked over at Bob who was hunched over the kitchen island and flushing a scarlet red.

”Oh,” He said, like it suddenly made perfect sense, “…Wait, he still hasn’t said anything?” He added, confused.

“Nope,” Walker responded, still scrolling through his phone, not bothering to look up, “Somehow he’s been able to keep the verbal diarrhea to a minimum with her.”

“Barely. Last week she complimented him on how strong he was for carrying six bags of groceries for her in one go and he stammered over a thank you for two whole minutes.” Bucky let out a little laugh.

”Pretty sure you’re describing a stroke, not a crush/“ He started, wiping his face off with his towel, “What exactly are you waiting for, Bob? A written invitation from the president or something?” Before Bob even had a chance to answer, the door creaked open again, and you appeared.

You were still damp from the shower you had taken a few minutes ago, with your hair pinned back, and your skin still flushed from the heat of the water. You had on a soft, oversized t-shirt and…Bob’s sweatpants. He had given them to you last week without prompt, saying that you would be warmer in them, and since then, you managed to forget to give them back–whether it was on purpose or by accident, nobody really knew for sure.

Yelena had caught it immediately though.

”Wow…Y/N, those are some nice sweatpants, where’d you get them from?” She drawled, grinning like a cat that had just spotted a mouse. You glanced down at them and pointed.

”These? They’re Bob’s actually, so I have no clue where they’re from, but they’re super comfy.” Bob made a noise that could only be described as a choked squeak, as everyone glanced over at him in their own small ways. Yelena grinned.

”Oh, Bob’s, huh?” You nodded cheerfully, completely missing the way Bob’s soul was visibly leaving his body.

“Yeah, I was freezing after that mission last week and he just gave them to me. I forgot to return them, but they’re just too good to give up.” You replied, looking down at them fondly, like they were a luxury item of sorts, before adjusting the waistband a little bit, “Hope you’re okay if I keep them a little longer before giving them back to you.” You added, with a little smirk.

Bob–already pink from neck to ears–opened his mouth but only managed a soft, and cracked, “Yeah…Yeah totally fine.”

You smiled at him–kind, and warm, and totally unaware of how he was going to spontaneously combust in a few moments if you didn’t stop looking at him the way you always did, with this admiration and care.

Yelena nudged Ava as you turned to the pantry to grab your tote bag.

”I was about to actually go on a grocery run, I figured it’s a good time to stock up for movie night tomorrow…Bob, do you wanna come?”

He lifted his head almost immediately, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly–or like he was still rebooting from the sight of you wearing his sweatpants again and saying you might want to keep them longer.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised, and everyone else looked at him like a firing squad waiting to shoot.

”I-uh…Grocery run?” Yelena pressed her lips together to hold back a grin, before glancing over at Bucky who was shaking his head, then Walker glanced up from his phone, staring at him with a look that basically screamed ‘don’t you dare blow this.’

“Yeah, “ You said with a casual smile, “I was actually going to go because they finally restocked those kettle chips you like, and that weird sparkling iced tea…The lemon honey one. But I thought I’d just kill two birds with one stone and just take the whole movie night snack order now and get it over with…Y’know what I mean?” Bob felt like his entire chest was going to cave in under your words. The fact you remembered such little details about him killed him, because it gave him those butterflies in his stomach–the ones that gave him hope. Dangerous, reckless hope.

”He’ll go.” Yelena replied, “He’s not doing anything anyways, he’s super available right now, aren’t you Bob?” All eyes turned to him.

“I–uh…”

“He lives for those late night grocery runs,” Ava chimed in, “You’ve made his week.” Bucky crossed his arms, clearly entertained.

”Oh yeah, didn’t you say twenty minutes ago that your dream night would be picking out snacks with a girl you–respect deeply as a teammate?” He piled on, causing Bob to swallow loudly.

“Well that’s perfect then! I’ll meet you in the garage in five minutes!” You said brightly, giving him one last smile that probably shaved three years off his life expectancy before you turned and strolled out of the kitchen, with your tote bag bouncing against your hip. Everyone waited until the front door clicked to interrupt the silence.

”Oh Jesus.” Bob said, sinking his face into his hands, hearing Yelena clap like a coach at halftime.

”Alright, let’s lock in–because if you mess this up, Bob, you’re probably never getting another invite like that again.” Ava pointed her spoon at him like a judge handing down a sentence, before saying.

”And it’s the first time she’s asked you to come with her somewhere instead of you tripping over your shoelaces to offer a hand, so that’s a good sign.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added dryly, “So don’t think yourself into a grave for the love of god, because you’ve done it all backwards. She’s supposed to be wearing your clothes when you’re dating, not before.” Bob groaned louder.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

[ivanttakethis]

I knew that smile looked familiar…

[strawberriexmoon]

[pureworlds]

my bisexual queen i never doubted you

[graciedollie]

Can you do all the major milfs x reader and like we getting pass around like a drink. ☺️😵‍💫

Taker

pair: arcane!milfs x reader

summary: it was your usual day like any other in the brothel, dealing with usual customers and having to deal with their requests, though, that would change when you saw four new faces..

warnings: 18+ content, reader is a prostitute, strap-on usage, fingering, overstimulation, BRIEF shimmer usage (NOT A LOT I PROMISE), reader literally gets passed around…, rough (wo)manhandling, praise, degradation, and probably more.

a/n: hope you enjoy and this lowkey may be long!!! also I recommend listening to Life Of The Party By The Weeknd for this (obsessed with this damn song).

I'm so far gone and you are too

Show me how you go downtown

With the drugs in your body

Take that step, you're the life of the party

Know that step, you're the life of the party

It was a busy day at the brothel. Women and men, who worked there, were bustling with customers left and right—one lea, just for another to enter. It was busy, that’s for sure. With you, you had the same old customers, sometimes new faces appeared before you—other than that, it was just the usuals. It made money, yeah, but it was boring as shit sometimes.

That was until you saw four new faces.

Ambessa Medarda, fearless warlord, known for her power and resilience. Cassandra Kirammin, Piltover’s beloved council member, known to be quite the charming and strong woman. Sheriff Grayson, one of Piltover’s best sheriffs, very known down in Zaun and Sevika, pretty well known down here as well, known to be quiet ‘the scary lady’, but also holds a good loyal to her.

It was an odd arrangement, but you didn’t really complain since you knew that it would be good money—especially if they were from Topside. Though, it did make you wonder why they would all come to you out of everyone else, maybe because you just so happened to catch their eye? Who knew?

You tried not to think much of as you got yourself ready in your little booth. Putting on your mask and applying some lipstick that matched your baby blue lingerie set—leaving nearly nothing to be hidden. Eyeing yourself a couple times and spraying some perfume on before taking a quick breath of shimmer—amping you up a little, you finally made your way to the room where you found the four woman, looking over at you with a darkened gaze as you stepped in.

“So this is the one you’ve suggested, I suppose?” Cassandra would murmured lowly as she gaze you up-and-down look, taking in your stature—feeling quite pleased with the mere sight before her. “Mhm, quite the sight, yeah?” Sevika quipped back with a proud smirk, taking a puff of her cigarillo before stumping it out on the ashtray besides her.

Grayson and Ambessa just silently observed you with a predatory gaze, thinking of all the things that’ll go down this very night. A smirk crept along Ambessa’s lip as she stood up, stalking over to you with slow, heavy footsteps of her boot till she stood in front of you; grasping your chin firmly. “I take it you can handle all of us, child?“ God you nearly felt your knees buck as her peering eyes met yours, looking down at you with a sultry gaze.

You cleared your throat briefly as you nodded, “Of course, I can assure you that I’ll make it worth your time…” You trailed off with a sultry tone, eyeing the other three as you continued. “Each and everyone of you..” The other women shared looks between themselves before nodding in agreement, sharing a nonverbal thought before looking back at you with that same gaze, “Is that right?” Grayson soon spoke up, her husky and raspy voice sending chills up your spine.

Oh this was gonna be fun.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You found yourself seated on Ambessa’s lap while seated on the bed, back pressing against her ample chest as she bullied two fingers into your sopping cunt—earning whimpers and moans from you. For once, you felt embarrassed with how you felt exposed with the other women watching you closely—watching with that hungry glare. “Look at you…takin me all in so nicely. I bet you never did this with any other customer, have you, child? Never made you feel as good as this, hm?” All she was returned with was a whimper and a shake of your head.

She wanted a solid answer.

Her fingers slipped out of you to land a slap to your clit, making you cry out and squirm in her grasp. “I asked you a question. Do not make me ask again.” “N-no! Never felt this way…t-this good!” She hummed in approval and slipped the thick digits back into your welcoming cunt, cringing at the squelching noise.

Sevika eyes stayed stuck on yours, particularly on the way your expression was filled with bliss and ecstasy whenever Ambessa would thrust her finger repeatedly in that spongy spot that made you see stars. She and Ambessa shared a glance before Sevika made her way up to you, suddenly pulling you into a messy, rough kiss—moaning and groaning into the feverish kiss. Your fluttering eyes peered open to glance at the other, Grayson and Cassandra. The mere sight of them made you throb. Both women hands roamed over their bodies as their lips locked—sensing that they definitely had some sort of ‘fling’, but we keep that hush here.

Ambessa eyes watched the two of you share the messy kiss together, watching in pure satisfaction and pleasure as she watched your body jerked when her thumb strummed over your throbbing clit. “Quite responsive…how cute.” Sevika lips pulled from yours, panting heavily before she leaned to attack your neck with feverish bites and kisses—warning whimpers and groans from you. Your hips jerked and thighs twitched as you felt the fiery sensation burn in your stomach, “G-gonna cum…p-please..”

A small hum escaped Ambessa’s lip at your breathless pleads, practically relishing it all in. “Mm, should we let our precious cum or no?” She hummed to the others, all three exchanging glances before giving a knowing glare to her—this wouldn’t be the only you’ll time you’ll be cumming anyway, so she let you have it. Your vision blurred with spots of black and white, feeling your body lock up with a broken moan leaving you; feeling your body shudder with impact of the orgasm. It nearly left you utterly breathless.

Sevika lips finally pulled away from your neck, relishing your heaving chest and marked neck and jaw—the sight made her clit throbbed in her boxers. “Felt good, didn’t it, babydoll?” She murmured lowly, grasping your cheeks and cupping them to make your lips puff. You gave her a small nod, looking at her as if she held everything just with the palm of her hand.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s gonna get even better.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“That’s it…”

Ambessa drawled out with that sultry tone as you licked feverishly at her soaked pussy, holding your head in place with a firm hand as your eyes fluttered up at her—never leaving hers. “Doing so well …” The praise of her felt absolutely heavenly, along with the way Sevika thrust were deep and rough, hitting that spot repeatedly with the faux dick. Your muffled moans vibrated against Ambessa’s soaked flesh, earning low moans and grunts from her. Your eyes teared up as Sevika placed her flesh hand on the small of your lower, pressing you deeper into an arch and allowing her to hit deeper.

“Yeah, there you go….takin it so good. Justttt like that, baby.” The way her voice flowed through your ears made your eyes roll back, whining and moaning to no end. Your lips latched onto the warlord’s clit as you suckled on it with steady licks, feeling her body tense and lock up as you watched her throw her head back—seeing the way her throat bobbed and jaw clenched. Tightly grasping at her toned thighs, you double down on your efforts. Your tongue slipped inside her and slurped messily and nosily, moaning and whining as Sevika’s thrust became more rough. “Don’t you think you’re bein’ a little careless with the girl, no?” That familiar voice rasped out, Grayson, who was nearly breathlessly after the little session between her and Cassandra. Sevika shared her a glance before chuckling lowly, suddenly slapping your ass and making you jolt, but Ambessa held you in place just for her.

“Course not. She’s a big girl.” She leaned down against your ear as her flesh hand snaked between your trembling legs and rubbing your aching clit in time with her thrusts, “I know she’ll take it anyway.” A small whine slipped from you at her whispered words, feeling that fiery sensation build up quickly. Ambessa’s thighs locked around your head as her body tensed up, feeling the taste of her gush into your mouth as her own body reached its limit. You followed shortly after. Your vision blurred with spots of white and black, cumming with a muffled cry as your thighs shook and trembled. Sevika pulled out a little, just to see the white ring coat her strap perfectly. “That’s what I wanted to see..” She groaned lowly before suddenly sinking back in, making you grasp Ambessa’s thighs tighter and body to jerk before she placed a hand on your lower back to keep you steady. “No, no—you can take it.”

You shook your head with protest as she slowly thrusted in and out of you, whining and whimpering as the rigged veins rubbed your sensitive walls and hit that certain spot. “I—oh fuck—I-I can’t…” Ambessa took hold of your chin, gazing into your teary eyes with a lustful glint. She pulled you from her thighs and close to a firm, feverish kiss—muffling your whiny protest. With each thrust, the base of the strap kept hitting Sevika’s clit over and over again; earning groans and low moans from her.

“Now, now, child. You’ll take what we give you.” Ambessa chided with a low tone as she pulled away from the kiss, seeing how your eyes were barely even able to focus on her.

She couldn’t have that.

Her palm came down on your cheek, sending stinging shivers to your cheeks, making you alert once more. “There she is..” Your teary eyes gazed up at the woman like a puppy begging for permission, making her smirk at the mere sight. “Ohhh…is Sevika being too rough with you?” She murmured with a low murmur, brushing her thumb over your tear-struck cheeks and smudged the runny mascara. “M-mhm! Y-yes—oh fuck—please!” Your whines and whimper spurred the women on, feeling how Sevika thrusts became more feverish and uncoordinated; making your head swarm. “S-shit…” Was all the woman behind you could groan out before her hips stuttered as the orgasm hit her, lazily rutting against you before she slowly pulled out—admiring the mess before being interrupted.

“Isn’t it rude to hog, hm?”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Your face was buried deep between Grayson’s thighs as she settled on your face, hungrily licking and sucking at her soaked core as Cassandra’s leg was thrown over yours, holding your leg around her waist as her clit bumped with yours in a rhythmic motion. Your head was swirling with the overwhelming sensation. Moans and groans filled the room of the three of you as the other two watched closely while openly touching themselves—it was definitely quite the sight.

Grayson fingers tugged at your hair as you held onto her thighs tightly, moaning into her cunt as she would grind against the velvety tongue, “That it…there you do, doin so—mgh—good..” Hearing the way her raspy voice filled your eyes made your clit throb against Cassandra’s clit, making her moan at the sensation. “I—oh god—think she likes it, dear…” Cassandra slender fingers trailed up and down your trembling legs, occasionally placing sweet kisses up and down the shaky muscle.

Your ears picked up the faint sounds of low moans and heavy breathing, peeking from Grayson thighs to look over and see the other women enjoying themselves—knuckles deep into their cunt, seeing how arousal coated the curly bush of hair.

The sight nearly made you cum right there and then.

Cassandra’s slender fingers slipped up to your breast, brushing over your hardened nipples with a gentle touch; making your hips jerk. “T-that’s it, lovely…just like that—ah!” Her head fell back as your husk bucked up to her, making your clits bump perfectly together in the perfect motion. A whimper erupted from your mouth at the shrill of electric shooting through your weary body.

Grayson settled further down on your mouth as you stopped briefly, “C’mon, love—there you go—shit…” A shaky breath fell from her lips as you resumed your ravenous pursuit to her clit, feeling the way her body tensed up and breathing became rigged.

Your thighs started to tremble with the way Cassandra started to roll and grind her clit over yours in a steady motion, feeling the slick run down to your ass—making a mess of the sheets once more. “Look at that. Such a dirty—f-fuck—girl, yeah?” Your ears picked up the sound of Sevika low tone, hearing the low moan that threatened to escape her mouth as you knew she was getting closer herself, along with Ambessa. Feeling the way Grayson thighs tensed around your head, you knew she wasn’t far either—nor were you or Cassandra as the pornographic noises became more louder. A low moan—nearly a shuddery breath—fell from Grayson’s mouth as her thighs locked up around your head.

And then it happened.

Hush of liquors spurred from her spasming hole as her thighs trembled alongside your head, weakly grinded against your mouth as she rode the waves of the organs out; breathing heavily as your bleary eyes looked up at her—seeing beads of sweat on her neck and forehead, the way her eyes fluttered with a daze, and how her breathing was shaky. Meanwhile, Cassandra rolled her hips with a quicker, but steady pace as she felt that hand in her stomach tighten—tighten—and tighten till she came crumbling down, letting out a soft moan that became louder as she continued to grind against you—making you whimper loudly as you suddenly felt that tingling sensation in you erupt.

Grayson slowly settled off you as you moaned and whined to no end, body convulsing with the intensity of the orgasm—leaving you feeling practically boneless. Cassandra’s face was flushed as a rose, panting heavily as her own thighs trembled, slowly moving off you before laying down beside you as the three of you panted like an overworked dog. You stared up at the ceiling with a dazed gaze as your ears ringed, slowly tuning back in as you started to slowly started to fall back in. Your eyes flickered over to the Sev and Bessa—seeing the complete between their thighs and pools of liquid dripping onto the floor.

Someone definitely gained some regulars.

hope you enjoyed bbys!!! (sorry ts took so long to publish UGHHH) <3

taglist 🏷️!! @supalcina @abbyslvrrr @zthebean27 @ivorydevil @halle5s @tqlepatia @jhyoos @haruko--bby @madewithsilk

[densewentz]

same

[eightyonefour]

george: i really wanna see you party, i don't think i've ever witnessed such a thing

oscar: so where are we going tonight?

george: i feel horrendous right now so i'm hitting bed... don't join me there

oscar: yeah i'll leave you to that

[toqiuh]

My friend showed me this new au yesterday and I've been possessed ever since

[zhongxia246]

[perotovar]

PEDRO PASCAL at Sundance Film Festival 2024 for @swiftispunk ♥

[holyblanchett]

"But I DO love a harness, I'm not gonna lie, I love a harness" heavy are the hips that wear the strap.

[em1i2a3]

can you do bob x reader where he sees us interacting with a child and it makes him want to be a father so bad?

It’s You I’m Thinking Of

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/ The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Fem!Reader

Summary: Valentina organizes a PR event for the Thunderbolts and during the event Bob realizes that he may want more out of life than just saving the world.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because of Bob’s involvement and because some events are mentioned in passing. Fluff, a hint of Angst and an Established Relationship is at the forefront here.

Author's Note: Surprise, it’s double update day…Because I had this in my drafts and forgot to post it…YIKES. I found this to be so fluffy and cute to write! Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this a lot!

Word Count: 3,805

Valentina had called it a “Visibility Effort,” which–as far as Bob was concerned–was just a polished way of saying: “I need people to stop thinking you guys are monsters, so go smile for the cameras and pretend you guys didn’t almost destroy New York City a year ago.”

The Thunderbolts had only just begun to scrape their way back into the public’s good graces after the Void. If grace could even be applied to a team that, not long ago, had been seen as volatile assets in containment rather than heroes in recovery. But Valentina didn’t care about semantics–she cared about optics. And what better way to scrub down their image than to host a carefully staged, feel-good community day in a public park–complete with banners, press kits, and security briefings disguised as media rundowns.

The day before, you and the rest of the team had been sweating under the sun, assembling the layout from the ground up. Tent poles groaned in the wind, tarps snapped against knuckles, and the oversized bouncy castle–more akin to a pop-up cathedral–took three hours to stabilize. It loomed over the field like a surreal monument to liability.

By sundown, the park had been transformed.

Face-painting booths stretched along the paved path like an art market in miniature, each tent hung with paper lanterns and garlands of plastic ivy. A ring toss area had been set up beside a small prize table, its wares still barcoded and smelling faintly of plastic and lemon cleaner. Further down, a row of food trucks idled along the lot’s edge, the air thick with fried batter and roasted peanuts, preparing for the next day. A banner, bold and hopeful, rippled above the main walkway: THUNDERBOLTS COMMUNITY GIVEBACK DAY!

The park was bustling before noon the next day.

Children darted between booths with faces half-painted and shoes untied. Parents loitered on benches, plastic cups of lemonade in hand, cautiously optimistic about letting their kids near a group of enhanced individuals who, six months ago, were being referred to as national liabilities. Still, smiles came easier than expected. The air smelled like kettle corn, sun-warmed vinyl, and freshly cut grass.

Valentina had positioned her pawns with precision, each member of the team slotted into a role meant to soften their image–familiar, friendly, safe.

Yelena was stationed at the face-painting table. She didn’t argue when she was assigned to it, though she rolled her eyes hard enough that everyone could basically hear it. Now, seated with a paintbrush balanced between her fingers, she looked…Focused. Delicate even. She painted dragons, daisies, and one incredibly accurate depiction of Bucky’s old Winter Soldier face paint layout. She didn’t say much unless spoken to, but the kids flocked to her. Her bluntness came off as hilarious to them. Her gentleness? Earned in silence.

Walker manned the obstacle course–one of the only areas Valentina trusted him not to overcomplicate. With his sleeves rolled up and clipboard tucked under his arm, he barked out encouragements that sounded suspiciously like bootcamp commands. But he was patient. He let kids redo the course as many times as they wanted. And when one boy tripped near the finish line, Walker helped him up without hesitation and whispered something that made the kid’s chest puff with pride.

Ava floated between stations like an unofficial supervisor. She had no designated role, but her presence was felt and it was heavy. She hovered near the cotton candy vendor long enough to be offered a free sample, then spent ten minutes helping a little girl reattach the wheel to her toy stroller. Ava didn’t smile often, but she kept her sunglasses off today. It mattered more than anyone would admit.

Alexei had placed himself right in the center of the park’s open lawn, surrounded by children wielding foam swords. He was absolutely in his element. Towering, loud, enthusiastic. He let them “ambush” him over and over again, dramatically collapsing onto the grass as they tackled him, crying out in mock defeat with every fall. When one kid asked if he was Santa, Alexei laughed so hard he nearly swallowed a whistle. He’d fashioned a red Thunderbolts cap to resemble something almost festive. No one stopped him.

Bucky was at the photo booth. Not because Valentina assigned it to him–but because he asked. Quietly. Just once. And when she raised a brow, he explained:

“Kids like the arm. Makes them feel like they’re meeting a real superhero.”

No one argued with that.

He stood beside the printed backdrop of a Thunderbolts mural, his vibranium arm resting lightly at his side. At first, only a few families came by. Then word got around. By midday, there was a line curling around the booth. Bucky posed with toddlers who clung to his leg, tweens who wanted to see if he could lift them with his arm alone, and teens who just wanted proof they’d stood next to him. He let them. All of them.

And you–you’d been running the craft tent since the gates opened. Low folding tables filled with paper crowns, pipe cleaners, sticker sheets, and markers with their caps long lost to time. You moved between projects with practiced ease, coaxing confidence out of even the shyest children. One girl in a purple tutu had stuck to your side all morning, proudly referring to you as “Miss Thunderbolt” like it was an official title.

Bob on the other hand…Wasn’t assigned a booth.

Valentina had called it a “strategic decision”–which meant don’t scare the kids. She hadn’t said it outright, of course, but Bob understood the subtext. The others had made peace with their reputations, learned how to bend their edges into something palatable. Bob’s problem wasn’t sharpness. It was scale. People didn’t look at him and see a man. They saw The Void. A storm in a body. The thing that turned Manhattan’s sky black almost a year ago. Or they saw him as Golden Boy Sentry, which he rarely presented himself as now because all of that was dormant since the incident, so he was just Bob, and unfortunately nobody was really interested in just Bob.

Except you of course.

You had grown extremely close to him throughout the time he was recovering from the incident. You would stay back from missions just to keep him company, and within those small moments, the two of you grew a bond and became inseparable.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no big declaration, no kiss in the rain, no sweeping hand grab before battle. It was subtle–gentle, even. A shared quiet. The way you waited for him to speak on his own terms. The way you handed him warm drinks without comment and sat beside him on the floor of his room during the worst days, and just held him or smoothed his hair down. The way you always reached for his hand under the table when Valentina debriefed the team about “public image,” like you were grounding yourself in him, not the other way around.

It started with one date. A walk. A drink from the local coffee shop that you used two straws for. A movie you barely paid attention to because Bob had cried halfway through and apologized for it, and you’d told him, “I’d rather watch you feel something than watch the movie anyway.”

Now it had been nearly a year.

A quiet year. A healing one. A year where Bob–somehow–had begun to believe that maybe he wasn’t made just for disaster. Maybe he was allowed to want softness. Warmth. You.

So he stayed near you now, just like he always did. Even in the middle of this pastel-bright circus of a public relations stunt, even with the buzzing press cameras and the thunder of kids’ shoes over packed grass–he stood a few feet behind your tent. Watching quietly like he always did.

You didn’t need him to be part of the event. You didn’t ask him to engage. You just wanted him to be close and hover around you. And every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder and give him a little smile–soft, unhurried, like a tether that reminded him that he was still on your mind.

That’s what he was doing when it happened.

You were helping a child–maybe four, maybe five–cut out the outline of a star from glitter paper. She was sitting in your lap, legs swinging off the edge of the bench, her small fingers clumsy around the safety scissors. You guided her hands with your own, gentle and patient, your chin tucked down as you murmured something too soft for him to hear. The girl giggled. You smiled. And Bob felt something in his chest fracture.

It bloomed sharp and sudden, like a crack in glass that spiderwebbed behind his ribs before he could stop it. A low, aching pressure that pulsed under his skin and settled into his throat. He couldn’t look away from you. From the way the little girl leaned back against your chest, utterly content, while you helped her snip the edges of her glittery star. Your voice was low, your hand steady on hers, and when she got frustrated, you smiled and told her it was perfect just the way it was.

And the little girl–she believed you.

Bob watched her beam like she’d just won a medal, then twist to throw her arms around your neck. You hugged her back instinctively, without missing a beat, without needing to think about it.

And just like that, Bob saw it.

Not as a fantasy. Not as a warm, fuzzy, distant dream.

He saw you. Sitting in a living room. Soft lamplight across your shoulders. A child curled into your lap with a crayon clutched in one hand and a juice box in the other. Your hair a mess from the day, a blanket half-draped over both of you. And him in the doorway. Holding a book in his hand that he’d forgotten to read, too caught up in the simple, breathtaking fact that this was his life. That somehow, impossibly, he’d made it here.

His throat tightened.

The thought came quietly, like breath fogging glass:

He wanted this.

He wanted you. A child. A family. Not someday, not maybe. Just–yes. He wanted tiny shoes in the hallway. A swing set in a yard. A sleepy voice calling him Dad. He wanted your laughter in a kitchen filled with baby wipes and half-assembled toys. He wanted something that was his and yours and no one else’s.

But right on the heels of that beautiful, terrifying longing came something cold and heavy.

Fear.

He swallowed, hard.

His father’s voice echoed somewhere in the dark part of his memory–low, sharp, filled with the kind of disgust that was harder to forget than fists. He could still hear the way the floor creaked before a bad night. The sting of being told he was nothing. How love only showed up with bruises attached.

Bob’s stomach twisted.

What if I turn into him? He thought.

He didn’t think he would. He knew–rationally–that he wasn’t the same. He didn’t drink. He didn’t shout. He couldn’t even raise his voice without wincing at the echo. He loved gently. He loved softly. But fear didn’t care about facts. It sunk into his lungs anyway.

What if something in him broke? What if the Void came back and he couldn’t stop it? What if one day he opened his eyes and the sky was black again, and the only thing he’d ever loved was looking up at him, afraid?

He could never live with that.

Never.

And yet–

You turned slightly, and caught Bob’s eyes across the grass. You smiled at him–something so simple, so safe–and in that moment, the fear didn’t disappear, but it softened.

Because you weren’t afraid of him.

You’d never been.

Even on the days he didn’t like himself, you liked him. Even when he flinched at his own reflection, you reached for his hand and rested your chin on his shoulder. You didn’t see The Void. You didn’t see the Sentry. You just saw Bob–the man who carried your snacks in his hoodie pocket just in case you got hungry when you went out, who still got bashful when you looked at him for too long, who curled into you at night like you were the only thing that had ever made sense in his life.

Bob’s hand gripped the edge of the canopy pole beside him, just to ground himself.

He wanted to go to you right then and there just to say it. To whisper something clumsy like, “I want to build a life with you. A whole one. With glue-stained paper crowns and messy bedrooms and bedtime songs.”

But he stayed still.

Too scared to break the moment.

Too scared it might not be his to want.

—————————

Later, when the event was winding down, and the sky had shifted to gold and mauve and soft watercolor blues, Bob found you sitting on the grass alone near the now-abandoned craft table, peeling dried glue off your fingers and watching a few leftover kids chase bubbles across the park. He moved towards you slowly, and his looming presence immediately got your attention.

You stopped picking at the glue on your fingers and looked up at him instantly.

”Well, hey stranger.” Bob gave a quiet huff of a laugh at the greeting and smiled down at you, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets, “You gonna sit down or are you going to just stand there and stare?” You joked, patting the patch of open grass beside you. He hesitated for a second before lowering himself beside you, knees folding awkwardly in the grass. You watched him for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek–light, and lingering, your lips warm against the wind-chilled skin just below his eye.

“I haven’t been able to do that all day,” You said softly, almost teasing, but the affection behind it was unmistakable.

Before Bob could even respond, you leaned in and pressed another kiss to the corner of his jaw, then to his temple, and then one right between his brows where they had scrunched up, each kiss softer and slower than the last.

By the time you pulled back, Bob’s cheeks were as red as a rose, and they had become warm, and his smile had curled wide and helpless across his face, because to him your affections were always welcome.

”Y-You’re gonna make me explode,” He mumbled, voice thick with love as he turned to hide his burning face against the shoulder of his hoodie, “This is h-how I die.” He stumbled, looking over at you with those big blue eyes you couldn’t help but stare into every night.

“Death by affection sounds like a dream to me.” You laughed, slipping your hand up to cup his cheek, to turn his face towards yours so he was looking at you directly.

“Y-You know I’m a fragile m-man.” You snorted at his comment.

”I know Sentry is dormant but you’re technically the strongest person on Earth.” You said, giving him a knowing look. “I don’t think you’re fragile.” Bob gave a breathy little laugh, his pupils blown out from how close you were.

”Y-Yeah, well…D-Don’t flatter me too much…You’ll make me f-fall in love with you or s-something.” You raised your brows at him, seeing his cheeks go an even deeper red, “I-I mean–more. Like…More in love with you.” You smiled, so warmly it made his breath catch in his throat, you could hear it.

”Almost a year in,” You whispered, brushing your nose gently against his, “And you still get all flustered with me…I love it.”

And you kissed him–gently, fully, your mouth warm and sure on his. Bob melted. His whole body slackened like your kiss had pulled all the tension right out of him. He groaned quietly and let himself fall back into the grass with a helpless thump, hoodie riding up slightly at the hem, his eyes fluttering closed like he was physically overwhelmed. You laughed lightly and laid down beside him, turning your head so you were looking at him and all his glory, feeling his hand find yours, lacing his fingers between yours instantly.

The sky above you was dimming into deeper blues now, streaked with soft brushstrokes of pink and violet. The hum of the event had finally died out completely. You could still hear the occasional giggle of a child somewhere off in the distance, but for the most part, it felt like you two were the last ones left in the park. Like the whole day had been waiting to exhale.

Bob stared up at the clouds for a moment, before letting out a small sigh.

”C-Can I ask you something…Kind of b-big?” Your eyes studied him for a moment, tracing the way his brows furrowed gently, like he was already halfway to apologizing for whatever he was about to say. Like he was bracing himself to ruin something just by saying it.

“Of course,” You replied, your voice just above a whisper, slowly growing more and more concerned with each moment that passed in silence.

Bob just kept looking up at the sky like the words were written somewhere in the clouds and he just had to find them. His thumb rubbed slow circles against your knuckles.

”Have you ever thought about…Us?” He swallowed, “I mean–not just us, b-but more like…A family.” You raised your eyebrows slowly, turning onto your side so you could face him fully, still holding his hand, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I–I watched you today,” He whispered. “With that little girl in your lap. And it didn’t feel far away…It didn’t feel like someone else’s life. It felt like something I could…Want.”

Your heart gave a soft, aching pull at that.

“I want it,” He admitted, voice trembling. “I want it so bad it scares me. You, a kid–us. A home. Not perfect. Not polished. Just ours. Something warm. Something safe.”

You reached up and gently tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, your fingertips trailing along his temple. He leaned into the touch like it soothed something he couldn’t name.

“I want that too,” You said. “Not tomorrow. Not next week. But one day. When things are a little quieter, when the world doesn’t need us to carry it. I want that with you, Bob.” He nodded, like he was trying to let the hope settle in–but his eyes were still stormy at the edges.

“But what if…” He swallowed. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I…Mess it up l–like I always do? What if I hurt them? What if something in me snaps and I—”

“Hey,” You cut in gently, reaching up to cradle his cheek. “Look at me.”

He did, reluctantly, his blue eyes wide and full of unshed fear, tears filling up in the corners threatening to spill at any moment.

“You’re not like your father at all Bob, you’re not him.” You said, your voice steady and firm.

”Y-You don’t know that,” He whispered, his eyes glancing away at you, making you chase his gaze a bit so he could look at you.

”I do know that…Because I know you. Because I’ve watched you fall asleep holding my hand. Because you carry two different granola bar options in your hoodie pocket in case I want a choice. Because you always refill the toothpaste without me asking. Because when I’m upset, you don’t try to fix it–you just stay with me. Quietly. Constantly.” Bob blinked, his lip trembling ever so slightly.

“You don’t lash out, Bob. You lean in,” You said. “You don’t shut down. You open up, even when it scares you. You feel everything so deeply, and you never make anyone pay for it.” His brow furrowed and he looked down, overwhelmed, like he didn’t know what to do with the weight of that truth.

You brought his hand up to your lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then whispered into the space between you:

“You already take care of me in a thousand tiny ways. You love gently. That’s why I trust you with my soul.”

He let out a shaky breath, and the hand that held yours tightened just a little more. He nodded faintly, like he was still catching up to the truth you’d handed him–like he wasn’t sure if he deserved it, but he was holding it anyway.

You reached up, your thumb brushing delicately at the corners of his eyes, wiping away the tears that had gathered without pressure or embarrassment. Just care.

“You cry so pretty, you know that?” You whispered, a little playful, attempting to lift the mood just a bit.

Bob let out a short, breathy laugh–surprised and soft. “Th-That’s not a real thing.”

“It is when you do it,” You smiled, leaning closer, your voice light but laced with everything you meant. “You’re beautiful when you feel things.”

He looked at you like you’d just handed him a future and told him it already belonged to him. Like no one had ever said that to him before–and he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from it.

You leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure, lips pressed to his like you had time. Like you weren’t afraid to show him just how loved he was.

And when you pulled back, your forehead stayed pressed against his, your breath brushing his lips as you whispered:

“You’d be the safest place a little soul could ever grow.”

Bob let out another shaky breath, and this time he smiled–full, unguarded, like something inside him had just settled for the first time.

“Only if it’s with you,” He said quietly.

You nodded, your fingers lacing tighter with his.

“Then we’ll build it,” You whispered. “Slow and messy and ours.”

And beneath a darkening sky painted with stars and leftover laughter, you lay together in the grass, your future unfolding between your palms like something sacred.

Just warm.

Just real.

Just home.