#all the stuff in the bubbles are types of laughs

[chidorrrita]

・❥・I'm your puppet

You bring up the idea of L using you to distress. He agrees. Absolute filth follows.

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: smut (pretty obvious), heavy degradation, slight praise, breeding, slapping, slight cum eating, being called pretty little thing and slut, reader is a freak for L

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1000+

: ̗̀➛ a/n: two posts in a week, who would have guessed. anyways please enjoy the degenerate activities here. 

L positions you in the way he wants, pulls you up by your throat, long fingers curling around constricting your breaths, until your body is pressed against his, as his hips snap against the fat of your ass causing a “pap pap” sound to echo throughout your room. 

He’s relentless in his search for pleasure, paying you no mind, as his hand begins to squeeze your throat, the other snakes its way to seize your hip in a bruising grip, and hot pants and low grunts escape his chapped lips as they brush against your ear. Your mind turns to mush, no longer able to distinguish pain and pleasure as it creates a sinful mix tricking you into begging for more. All that comes out is a series of babbles, drool dripping down onto your chest, and L smugly laughs at your pathetic self. Too drunk off this moment to say or do anything as he bends you over, forcing your head into a pillow, to hit that sweet spongy spot inside. You let out a scream of delight as if he understood your pleads, and in return clench around his cock deliciously. He lets out another grunt, deep from within his chest, and smacks your ass letting the sting linger before smacking it again with just as much force. It sends your body jolting forward, too much for your broken mind to handle, and you try to squirm from his grasp, but he drags you back to where you belong. Taking his cock like you were made for this, made to be ruined by him. 

Muffled mewls and a feeble excuse of thrusting yourself back on his dick makes his mind lose focus. Normally crippled by the weight of his cases, L kneels taller now, filled with thoughts of fucking you full. He pulls out, just kissing your hole with his flushed tip, until ramming himself back in, setting a brutal pace on your body. You couldn’t be more delighted. 

It was your idea to help him distress. A method, other than eating a concerning amount of sweets, to relax him. 

You picked at the threads on your sweater as you watched him reach for another stack of macarons after downing two boxes. His fingers danced across his keyboard, quickly typing out a report in some language you can’t discern, before he spots you shyly inching over. 

L stuffs a strawberry macaron in his mouth before asking “woul’ ‘o’ ‘ike o’e” offering you a vanilla one. 

“No it’s okay” you say trying to hide a chuckle bubbling its way out. “I was actually wondering how your job is going.”

He continues to violently chew, “ ‘qui’e ‘ell,” he swallows thickly, “why do you ask?”

“Well,” you peer down to your socks, rubbing your toes against the carpet, “I was just worried if you were stressed. You’ve eaten almost three boxes of those.”

“Sugar keeps the brain awake,” he states matter-of-factly as he goes to grab another one.

Your hand stops his, holding it in place, and he looks up to you slightly confused with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. He’s trying to read you.

“Maybe you should rest a while. Let your brain reset, you know?” His gaze shifts to his laptop. The report is nearly finished, and it has been weeks since he could sleep for more than an hour. He can never fully rest on a job like he can when he’s with you. His mind is plagued by images of known friends and nameless faces calling him, but you keep them at bay. Perhaps resting will do him some good. 

His voice softens to barely a whisper, “that would be good,” until he corrects himself “then I can continue working.”

“I’ll help you distress.”

L starts to get ready for bed, gingerly changing into his pj’s which really only consists of taking off his pants, and begins to slip into bed until he notices your apprehensive self still standing at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing, nothing,” but you still remain at the door.

His eyes squint in suspicion, letting silence question you instead of him. You quickly relent. “I mean… Well I feel bad now.”

More silence.

You sigh, frustrated at the fact your will power breaks so easily for him. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have sex to distress, but then you were actually going to sleep and now-”

“I would very much like to have sex with you.” 

“-I feel like an asshole- wait what?”

“I said I would like to have sex.”

The air in the room turns thick with the smell of sweat and sex cut by your pornagraphic moans, and L’s harsh pants, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass. 

The position he has you in makes him hit even deeper than you could imagine, leaving you incapable of moving let alone thinking, but no need to think. A pretty little thing like you doesn’t need to think when you have L as your lover. He knows what you need is to be a good little slut and take his cum.

Your hoarse voice says “‘is too much. Can’t take it.” between moans, legs shaking underneath L’s thighs.

He accentuates each word with a thrust. “Yes.” “You.” “Can.” forcing the bed frame to hit the wall. 

He bends over your hunched frame, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses against your neck until he reaches your neck and he whispers “be good for me,” and you cum.

Stars dance around the corner of your vision as a soundless scream escapes you, and your hole tightens around L’s cock making him hiss. He drops to his elbows, succumbing to only shallow thrusts until it’s all too much and he cums filling your hole and pushing it back in with his cock. He stays until he softens and falls out, and his eyes fall on your thighs. His cum is smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down between your ass and on to the bed. He scoops it back up and pushes it in, not wanting to waste a single drop, and you moan at the intrusion. 

He takes his cum covered fingers to your parted lips, already familiar with routine, and you wrap them around his fingers, tongue swirling to get every last bit. You release them with a ‘pop,’ eyes waiting patiently for your reward, and he obliges, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He gets up to get a towel and begins to get you cleaned up, kissing each bruise he left, and massaging your sore limbs. 

“You did so well for me.”

“Would you say you’re sufficiently relaxed?”

“Yes, very relaxed. Thank you.”

He kisses your head, and tucks you into bed smiling to himself. How he ever got you to be his lover, he will never know, but he is forever grateful you are.

[teddybeartoji]

when co-worker!toji finds a cupcake, a note and a small paper flower on his table when he comes back from his break, he’s more than confused. he hasn’t told anybody about his birthday because he doesn’t even care about it in the first place and he doesn’t really care for the people at the office other than you either, so— 

you. 

his green eyes scan the room but he notices that you’re missing from behind your desk, he slowly slumps down onto his chair. he gnaws on his scarred lip as if he’s a little nervous – he’s used to just spend the new year’s eve with shiu and his family, and while they always gift him something nice, a little too nice even, to toji, his birthday has lost its meaning almost completely. 

he thinks this is too nice, too. 

sure, you’ve been working with each other for a good couple of months now and he gets along with you the best out of everybody here, he really can’t imagine why you’d go out of your way to get him something. hell, he doesn’t even know how you know it’s his birthday in the first place.

he eyes the cupcake and the little note beside it. and the flower. 

did you– did you make that for him? 

no way. 

…right? 

gently, he takes the small thing and places it right under the monitor, right where he can see it at all times. he doesn’t know how to describe the feeling inside him, right behind his ribcage, as he looks at the gift with his furrowed brows but it sure is something new. something he hasn’t felt in a very long time. 

next, he takes the note into his hand and glances around the office to make sure that nobody has noticed what he’s doing. they haven’t, and toji finds himself in a new type of a bubble – one that you’ve crafted just for him. 

it’s definitely your handwriting, he has seen it before. it’s a very simple ‘happy birthday toji’ with a very small heart next to his name and oh, how stupid he feels. what do you mean a doodle is making him feel giddy? 

this is ridiculous; he is a grown man, he doesn’t get giddy, he doesn’t— 

“i hope the flower wasn’t too weird.”

toji isn’t easily scared, it’s almost impossible to catch him off-guard like that, and yet, right now, his eyes are wider than ever. your voice is barely a whisper, most likely just so you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention, but toji hears you loud and clear. 

he swallows the lump in his throat before pushing himself off the chair but since he didn’t realize you were so close behind him and you didn’t realize he’d stand up for you, he ends up grabbing onto your arms, so you wouldn’t fall over. 

“sorry…” you bite your lip and bat your eyelashes at him. he thinks he’s going to die. 

 “how’d you know?” 

he drops his hands to his side but he doesn’t move away and neither do you. 

“what, that today is the big day?”

he squints his eyes at you and you laugh. “okay, the small day.”

a ray of sun peeking in through the blinds. a warm light kissing his cheeks. you make the stupidest jokes. and he will always listen. 

“it’s a secret.” 

toji clicks his tongue.

“why?”

“why is it a secret?” 

“why’d you buy me stuff?” 

to a stranger, it’d probably sound like he’s interrogating you. but you know it’s just because you managed to surprise him. you, too, feel a little giddy now. 

“i didn’t buy you anything.”

his brows furrow again while your smile grows bigger.

“i made them, silly. and ‘why’ you ask?”

you don’t miss the slight flush that now adorns the apples of his cheeks. 

“because i wanted to. simple as that.”

[81pastrys]

Hiiii since you did so good with bad days I have another request.

What about Oscar coming home after a bad race and the flight was also horrible like maybe a baby didn't stop crying or something like that and when he gets home his girlfriend is singing with her music and when she sees him she runs to him and start yapping and he says something mean maybe about her laughing or her voice that is annoying or her hair that looks really bad, He didn't mean it but she starts to cry and he comforts her by telling her how much he loves her and with a hot bath.

Thank you 🦋

Bad Wording

Summary— Oscar had a rough flight and when his girlfriend tried her best to make it better, he isn’t in the mood

Warnings— dismissive Oscar ; overthinking reader ; couples bath

A/N— this is adorable 🥺 thank you 🦋 anon!

Oscar One Shots

Oscar was expected to be home around dinner, his girlfriend eagerly waiting for him, excited to see him after the triple header. She ordered his favorite take out and set it all up on the table near the time of his arrival.

Oscar however, had one of the most grueling flights, not only was he absolutely exhausted from the triple header, but his flight was delayed, cancelled, and rescheduled. She was bummed but he assured her it would all work out.

She waited patiently for the door to unlock, singing while setting the table. She jumped in his arms when he did open the door and he lazily wrapped an arm around her waist. He put all his stuff down and she showed him the table, saying how she set it and readied it for them to indulge in his favorite takeout.

He nodded sheepishly and she frowned. “I thought it would cheer you up, since your flight was rough.” She tried. He kissed her head and went to start unpacking.

“I’m not really hungry and I ate during the delay at the airport.” His voice was monotoned, uninterested as he unpacked and situated himself. “I also have a headache.” Usually that means, ‘stop talking so much it’s annoying.’ In her mind.

She shot him a low, “oh ok.” And went to eat by herself, tears slowly streaming down her face. She cleaned up after, putting his food in the refrigerator for later. When she entered the bedroom and sniffled his head perked to attention and he noticed her.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked. He pulled in for a hug and she lightly pushed him off. “Did I say something to upset you?” His voice was caring, concerning and completely different from earlier when he dismissed her.

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” She blew him off. He sighed and knew only one thing could help her mood: a warm bath with him. He started the faucet and it was her turn to snap her head in his direction.

“Put those salts and bubble bath you like, we can relax together.” He said and kissed her head. She smiled at the thought and added what she does to her baths, relaxing salts and a florally bubble bath.

They undress and sit in the bath together, humming at the warmth of the water. “I’m sorry about earlier, I was excited to see you.” She said quietly, amidst the light steam of the water.

“I should be apologizing, you did nothing wrong baby.” He toyed with her hands, since her hair was neatly put in a bun to avoid water. “I just had a shitty day and took it out on you, I’m sorry.” He said.

She hummed and they enjoyed the quiet time while in the warm bath. When the water turned cold they got out and cuddled to sleep as if nothing happened.

Oscars the type to do this I’m sure

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[rereisstuff]

TAIL !

summary: you’re certainly someone’s dream girl.

pairing: idol! Hoshi x idol! reader

“i’m sure she can show us some cool moves!” the host followed the script as you awkwardly smiled while Hoshi was holding a huge creepy smile.

his dreams came true when the two promotions crossed paths and you and him ended up in the same program.

literally his crush was there, acting like a whole fox and stuff, he could go as a happy man.

you danced with the hosts, making sure to smile and be the most family friendly type, half of Seventeen was there!

“woah so cool! let’s see what’s next!” after fake smiling and weird expressions the cut sounded loud and Hoshi almost jumped in front of you.

you smiled shyly, you loved his job, biased him, and he was just there!

“i wanna wish you good luck, fighting!” he smiled and you could melt right there.

it was the first live performance for your song, Tail, and was mature and criticized causing nervousness bubbling in your stomach.

“thank you” you bowed “would you like to film the challenge later with me?” your heart was beating fast and the words came out of your mouth quickly.

he started to nod almost manically “yes!” he yelled, looking ashamed later “i meant, yes it would be a pleasure to film with a big one in dancing”

you playfully rolled your eyes “im talking with the professional, stop flattering me”

he frowned, looking cute “you’re so good dancing, i really mean it girl!”

“okay, i’m sorry i’m sorry!” you laughed and he smiled, the nervousness was gone, he vanished it, he and his beautiful looking face.

“i can forgive you if you accept doing our dance challenge and grab a coffee with me later” he smiled, he saw the chance and took it, expecting your response.

“i can totally do that!” you reassured as your manager walked towards you “ see you around Hoshi-nim” you winked at him, he almost melted and cried and everything all at once.

he was going crazy over you.

[suempu]

masterlist <3

“hey, laios, right?” a man approaches him, a slight slur to his words with a flushed look on his face. laios barely stammers out a reply before the mysterious man mentions your name. “yeah, that’s you! hey, you’re their party leader, no? are you two close?” 

he raises a brow in concern. “yes? why do you ask?” laios places the drinks he was holding down, eyes unconsciously glancing over at you from across the tavern, smiling while force feeding marcille a peculiar-looking snack. 

he can already see the slight wobble of your movements and laios hopes you won’t feel too sick the day after.

“oh! that’s great, is there anything they’re particularly into? what’s their type? come on, help a guy out!!” the stranger leans close, waving around in exasperation. “surely you must know some stuff, yeah? any spicy secrets??”

laios reels back, putting a few inches of distance between them. “spicy secrets?— like their favorite seasoning?” 

“no, man! are you stupid? i wanna get with them.” 

oh. huh.

laios feels a frown coming to form on his face. “i see. why?”

“huh, why what?”

“why do you want to… get with them?” 

“cute face. not bad looking. easy game, don’t you think?” 

“oh.” his eyebrows furrow. he’s feeling some sort of anger that he’s never felt before. a bubbling feeling in his chest that’s… primal and territorial. possessive. 

“they’re not easy. they’re not a game, even. don’t go near them.” without waiting for a reply, laios snatches the drinks and bunches them up in his hands before waddling carefully towards your parties’ table. 

chilchuck scoffs when he approaches, “finally, i was starting to feel sober.” falin notes jokingly, “i’m sure that 10 minutes without your refill was very hard to endure.” 

they erupt in friendly chuckles that soon die down into confusion once they see the look on laios’ face. he sets down the drinks one by one, jaw tensed with silent fury accompanied by a hardened glare. 

he hears you let out a confused and soft laugh, “did the beer pick a fight with you, laios, honey?”

the man huffs, causing the rest to stare at him in agape. 

he plops down beside you with another huff before suddenly taking your hand into his. you smile in hopes to sooth him, watching as he caresses it with his thumb and placing it on his thigh.

marcille blinks before shrugging, and soon the party continues their usual antics.

your lover calls out your name, averting your attention from senshi’s wild story of wrestling with a human sized crab to focus on him. his heart swells when your eyes meet.

“i don’t want you to leave me.”

you look confused. “laios? where is this coming from? i would never.”

eyes narrowing, the lines on his mouth go further down. “there was a man. who said he wanted you. and i didn’t like that.” he curled his fingers around you tighter, as if you’d fly away from a mere breath. 

“is that why you looked so sour?”

“mostly because of the way he talked about you.” 

“ah.” 

laios scans the place to search for the stranger before he feels you bring up your intertwined hands towards your face to press a soft kiss onto his knuckles. 

you smile, turning to him and pecking his jaw, then his cheek, watching a pink blush bloom all over his face.. 

he feels warm all over, palms already sweating while his chest tightens. a dopey smile graces his features, glowing under your affection. 

“i wouldn’t worry about him.” you reassure him softly, kissing the corner of laios’ mouth. and just the tone of your voice, as if there's nothing in the world that could ever prove you wrong, laios believes you.

[anifever]

Hii, can you make Johnny cade or the gang with reader kinda like Charlotte LA Bouff from princess and the frog because I'm just thinking that it would be so interesting having kind of s/o so spoiled but kind and not a brat too, I love Lottie tho✨😭

Gang w/ a Lottie!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : The Curtis gang with a reader who’s like Charlotte La Bouff from “Princess and the Frog”

A/N : AHHH I’m sorry this took me so long I’ve been busy w other stuff. Anyways, I always wanted to be Lottie when I was younger 🥲 hopefully I got this close enough to her character also sorry these are shorter than normal <\3

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🎀 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ He’s honestly a little jealous of you

୨ He feels like you have everything he doesn’t

୨ That being said, does NOT stop the man from loving you once he sees how sweet and generous you are

୨ Your personalities are super different tho

୨ You’re so bubbly and bright and he thinks it’s endearing

୨ You definitely keep him on his toes

୨ You also keep him young

୨ Whenever he seems to be struggling more than usual with finances, you swoop in and save the day

୨ He’s like “??? Honey, I can’t take this,” and you’re just like “Too late, Dare-Bear, don’t worry about it 😊”

୨ Whenever you sleep over you wear a frilly pink sleep mask he has trouble not smiling over

୨ You love his cooking and are always drooling over it

୨ It’s a habit for you to bring pastries, etc from a bakery on the other side of town whenever you come over

୨ Earlier in the relationship/before you started dating, he knew how spoiled you were and he was like “..how am I supposed to compete with this.”

୨ Luckily you find him extremely muscly, attractive, and sweet so it makes up for his money 😋😋

୨ Either way, he still buys you whatever he can when he has the spare cash

୨ You have him wrapped around your finger

Two-Bit

୨ Couldn’t hold back his laugh when he saw a childhood picture of you dressed as a princess for Halloween

୨ You guys honestly go together so well

୨ If you have the same type of accent Lottie has- even better

୨ The first thing you said when you met his sister was “Well aren’t you as pretty as a peach!”

୨ Safe to say that made him more smitten

୨ You walk him like a dog it’s so funny

୨ He doesn’t spend as much money on beer anymore cuz he saves a lot up for you

୨ Found a stray kitty on the street and you started squealing when he brought it to you

୨ He was cheesing from ear to ear

୨ Has tried to get you to kiss a frog before after you told him you always wanted to when you were younger (mwahaha) and you freaked out

୨ That being said, he picks up random bugs all the time to try and gross you out- which works

୨ You never hurt them though⁉️⁉️ You just run away and start screaming

୨ Whenever he starts insulting people if they’re mean to you or something, you start dying of laughter which spurrs him on more

Steve

୨ He’s torn between thinking you’re a brat to also being extremely attracted to you

୨ He assumes you’re a mean girl who lives off daddy’s money (the second part being lowkey true)

୨ Doesn’t stop him from drooling tho

୨ Contrary to popular belief, you were actually really nice

୨ Like you came into the DX one day, giving him a huge tip while talking super animatedly and he was just like “Ah..”

୨ Whenever he talks about cars you have no clue what he’s talking about

୨ You have a pretty pink ‘62 Ferrari 250 GTO and that’s all you know!!

୨ You buy new clothes constantly and have lil’ fashion shows for him

୨ “Yeahhh, could you jus’ spin around one more time so I can see the back? 😇”

୨ “….Steve.”

୨ Whenever nobody else is around (Soda, etc) at the DX, you give him WAY bigger of a tip than normal lmao

୨ Brags about you to Soda all the time

Dallas

୨ He thought you were so annoying at first I’m sorry 😭

୨ Even with that, he still tried to get in your pants

୨ You slapped him for it which just made him want you more (he’s on that freak timing)

୨ You know what you want and he’s honestly really attracted to it

୨ He ends up spoiling you though, he can’t help it when you give him puppy dog eyes and pout your glossy lips

୨ Hilariously different

୨ Whenever he’s in your room he’s so out of place

୨ He’s surrounded by so much pink, stuffed animals, expensive jewelry and clothes, a big canopy bed, a crystal chandelier, etc

୨ His ego gets boosted when he’s out in public with you

୨ Like he’s with the prettiest and richest girl in town??? Yeahhh he’ll never let this go

୨ You not caring about his/his friends status’ is really important to him and he appreciates it even though he’ll never outright say it

Soda

୨ You guys both have a big line of people who want you

୨ Power couple!!

୨ You’re really ditzy- not necessarily stupid, but not all there

୨ He relates.

୨ You guys just sit there and look pretty

୨ Like you definitely have won various beauty pageants and have kept all the tiaras and sashes

୨ Makes you try the tiaras on every time he comes over

୨ He takes you to a drag race or rodeo and you’re like “Shew- Soda, I’m sweatin’ like a sinner in church,” while fanning yourself

୨ Probably because you’re wearing some expensive dress from a boutique in town made with thick material, but he’ll never smart off to you by saying that 🤍🤍

୨ Has a habit of ruining his DX shirt and you always pay for him to get a new one

୨ He already knew he was attractive, but it was only when you came along and started buttering him up that he started getting giddy about it

୨ He sucks up so hard to your mom and dad; they love him

Johnny

୨ Probably teased you a bit with Pony before you guys officially met

୨ After the initial iffy feeling he had about you wore off, he was head over heels when he knew you better

୨ He genuinely sees you as a princess

୨ You’re always wearing some shade of pink and some form of pearls and he’s mesmerized

୨ He thinks you deserve a lot better since he can’t give you much

୨ You literally couldn’t care less though since he treats you so well

୨ He’ll save up random coins off the street if he had to tho

୨ Your house is huge so you let him stay in a spare room which eventually just becomes his own

୨ Your house also did nothing to help his idea of you being a princess since it was way bigger and more extravagant than anything he could’ve imagined

୨ Your cat(s) love him, he’s a little overwhelmed at first but after that you’ll always find him with one around/on him

୨ You’re so comfortable fawning over him constantly and he gets pretty embarrassed about it LMAO

Pony

୨ He has a thing for pretty rich girls so this is fitting

୨ Once again, he also assumed you were mean and stuck up

୨ When you guys talked for the first time, he was definitely surprised

୨ You were definitely a bit out of touch with reality, but who cares!!!! You were pretty and nice!!!!

୨ Saw you stand up for one of your greaser friends once and felt his heart skip a beat

୨ Heard through the grapevine (he asked around) that you were enamored with some ‘pretty boy’ and couldn’t stop talking about him and he was like “Awww shucks 😞”

୨ He became extremely confused and denied it when Two and Johnny kept saying it was him after they saw you two interact at school

୨ He finally picked up on the heavy flirting one day and was like “…OHHHH”

୨ Whenever you get excited about something, he has a hard time understanding you since you start talking so fast and freaking out, but he just watches with a lovesick grin

୨ Your sass put together is on another level

୨ It scares Darry.

୨ And Steve.

୨ Back to the point I made earlier, you’d stand up for him about his status no matter what

୨ So in love it’s nasty

୨ Everyone in the gang is confused about how he bagged you especially considering he’s the youngest

[greg-montgomery]

I would love a fic about Reid’s friend coming to visit him at work and as soon as Hotch lays eyes on her it’s love at first sight. But she’s like really girlie and bubbly so the rest of the team is so confused as to why Hotch is so whipped for her :)

“She said that to you?”

“Yeah…I mean the audacity of some people,” you said shaking your head. “I’ve had enough of her. And I promise you, next time I’m telling our manager.” As if to prove the harshness of your words you dropped on his desk a stapler you had been playing with to occupy your hands.

Spencer smiled, entertained as always from your stories involving your least favorite coworker.

“Anyway, enough with her. We can go now, right?”

“Yeah, just let me get all my stuff.”

A deep voice coming from behind you right before you opened your mouth stopped you from complaining. “Reid, that last report needs-

The fact that you turned around to search for the owner of that voice seemed to stop him from speaking any further.

You blinked softly at him melting under the man’s gaze. He was tall, handsome, and looked like he could easily kill you: just your type.  

“Hotch?” you heard your friend’s voice.

That was Hotch?

“You’re Hotch?

“Yeah,” he breathed out a laugh. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” Spencer introduced you to him. “Sorry, she’s just picking me up.”

“That’s alright,” Hotch replied to him while still looking into your eyes. “So I take it you’ve heard about me.”

“Only the best,” you giggled.

“Yes, I’m sure Reid has never complained to you about paperwork or having to work on a weekend,” he rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced.

“I haven’t!” Spencer defended himself.

Hotch laughed and a beautiful smile stuck on his face. No way this was the same man Spencer had talked to you about that ‘never smiled’ and ‘never blinked’.

“Um…you wanted to tell me something about a report?” your friend awkwardly positioned himself next to you trying to get Hotch’s attention.

“Right,” he said. “It’s…it’s fine. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.”

--

“Do you see that?” Penelope whispered, grabbing Emily with one hand and JJ with the other.

“What is it?”

“Look,” she said pointing at you from afar.

“Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“And why is Hotch looking at her like he’s about to eat her?” JJ added.

“It’s Y/N, Reid’s best friend.”

“Oh…well good thing she’s not his girlfriend ‘cause…”

“Right?” Garcia said. “Oh my God, do you guys think they’re gonna fall in love? It would be so cute…they will start going on dates and we’re gonna get the weekends off!”

JJ tilted her head observing the pair of you. “You wouldn’t think that’s his type. She looks so…sunshine-y.”

“Well, I think that’s exactly what Hotch needs,” Emily said. “Some sunshine.”

--

“Why didn’t you tell me he was hot?” you asked when you were finally out of everyone’s sight.

“Who?”

“Hotch!”

“Ew…he’s like my dad!”

“To you!” you said opening your car door. “How am I supposed to drive now? My hands are shaking.”

“Because…of my boss?” Spencer asked, sounding confused.

You got into your seat and started giggling, covering your mouth with your hands. “Fuck,” you sighed moving your hands to cup your own cheeks feeling their heat. “This has never happened to me before. I think I just fell in love.”

Spencer gave you a side eye. “We’re still talking about Hotch, right?”

You bit your bottom lip and pulled a little card out of your pocket. “He gave me his number.”

“When did this even happen?”

“When you were putting your stuff in your bag.”

“So he likes you too?”

“I guess,” you smiled.

For a few moments the two of you stared at each other before bursting out in laughter.

“And I always thought Derek would be the one going after you.”

You let out a heavy sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl. “He’s really handsome, Spence.”

“He’s a good man too,” he said.

“So you approve?”

“I would never stand in the way between you and my father figure.”

“Shut up,” you laughed and started your car.

part 2

[httpsdana]

ciaoo!! how about max's girlfriend being the biggest lestappen shipper and makes fun of him and he just plays along with her with all that norris inchindents recently they just purely gossip on their day off. probably like a domestic fluff. cooking and whatnot.

thank you. love your work btw, incredible stuff!!

Rumor Has It~Max Verstappen

・❥・prompt list ・❥・masterlist ・❥・who I write for

y/n leaned over the counter, watching as Max stirs the pasta sauce on the stove, the delicious aroma filling the kitchen. He’s trying to keep his focus on the bubbling sauce, but her relentless teasing has him breaking into a grin every few seconds.

“So… when’s the wedding?” she asked with an exaggeratedly serious tone.

Max side-eyed her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Who’s getting married?”

“Oh, don’t play clueless” she said, folding her arms as she leaned a bit closer. “You and Charles. Obviously. The F1 power couple the world has been waiting for. Come on, Maxie, we all see the way you two look at each other.”

Max snorts, shaking his head. “You’re insane, you know that?”

y/n gasped with mock outrage. “How dare you dismiss my beautiful ship! I’m practically the captain at this point.”

Max laughs, finally giving up on stirring the sauce to turn and face her, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Yeah? Well, if I’m marrying Charles, does that mean you’re left alone to dream about me from afar?”

She rolled her eyes, reaching out to poke his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Verstappen.”

Max caught her hand, tugging her a bit closer until there’s barely any space between them. “Then stop with the Charles jokes. He’d hate you for it, anyway.”

“Oh, he would not,” she insisted, brushing off his comment. “Charles has a sense of humor. You two are just too shy to admit your feelings. Besides, I’m sure he’s off gossiping about us right now. Maybe with Lando. You know how much Lando loves a good rumor.”

Max raises an eyebrow, stifling a chuckle. “You think Charles and Lando gossip about us?”

“Oh, please,” she said, waving her hand. “I bet they’re talking about all the hot drama from the paddock. Anyways, apparently Lando’s ego has gone from medium to extra-large lately?”

Max sighs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t even get me started on Lando’s ego. Sometimes I think he just loves hearing himself talk. I mean, did you hear him the other day? Talking about how he was ‘definitely the best driver’ and that I got lucky in Brazil for going from 17th place to first?”

y/n let out a giggle, covering her mouth. “I know! I’m like, buddy, calm down. He’s sweet, but there’s a lot of ‘me, me, me’ going on lately.”

Max shakes his head, exasperation all over his face. “I swear, he’s like a puppy. One compliment, and he’s bouncing off the walls. And don’t even get me started on him dating Magui, the influencer who used to be with Joao Felix. The same Magui who cheated on him, like, a million times. Lando swears it’s not serious but come on.”

“Oh, he lives for it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s totally wrapped up in her whole ‘cool, edgy, unattainable’ vibe, but she’s just trying to be relevant. You know she’s doing everything she can to become a WAG.”

Max snickers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I thought we were bad at keeping things private.”

“Please, we’re saints in comparison,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. “And speaking of secrets…” she leaned in, voice lowering, “do you know how Alexandra and Charles met?”

Max raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “No, how did he meet her?”

“She was friends with his ex and her sister” y/n said with a sly grin. “Can you believe it?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Guess Charles has a type—and a way of meeting them through friends. Wasn't Charlotte also friends with the girlfriend before her?”

y/n laughed, nodding. “Right? And I swear, Alexandra and Charlotte look exactly the same. It’s like he’s got a specific blueprint for girlfriends or something.”

Max’s arms slid around her waist as he pulled her even closer. “Seems like Charles might have some explaining to do.”

y/n leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth against her. “it's fun knowing everyone’s secrets. Like how Pierre’s girlfriend, Kika, has that whole beef with Magui. She can’t stand her.”

Max raises an eyebrow, a grin forming. “Why am I not surprised? Didn’t Magui basically try to become a WAG overnight?”

“Exactly. Kika can’t stand it. Magui’s been copying her style, her posts, everything since the two stopped being friends. I swear, she’s just trying to outdo Kika at being the ultimate F1 girlfriend.”

Max shakes his head with a chuckle. “Kika’s a sweetheart; she deserves better than that drama.”

She laughed, tightening her arms around his neck as he hugged her close. “You know, we could give Lando a run for his money in the rumor department.”

Max laughed, kissing her once more. “You know what? I’m okay with that.” He leans down, murmuring in her ear, “As long as I’ve got you.”

She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face as she pulled him in for a proper kiss. This was their little slice of paradise—gossiping, cooking, and just being together with Max, in this lovely, imperfect chaos that’s all her own.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

The Lighthouse Vol. 2

Bob Reynolds x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Note: Howdy. Finally finished it. I really love how this one turned out. Very domestic fluff, forced proximity type stuff. Bob is so very dear to me, so I hope you enjoy it. I will also be posting this to my Ao3 for easier navigation; right here.

Summary: After the battle with Thanos, getting dusted for five years followed directly by another battle with Thanos, you were more than content living in your small, small town on the coast of Maine, overlooked by a beautiful lighthouse. Your life was perfect, you thought. Quiet, sure, but perfect. Until Bucky Barnes showed up on your doorstep with Bob Reynolds in tow.

Warnings: canon-typical drug mention (Bob’s former drug use), mental health discussion (but nothing super super serious; Bob has depression and Bipolar), little bit of canon-typical violence as a treat, some swearing.

Word Count: 29k (Split into Two Volumes, Vol. 1 here)

Reader Is: Female (only mentioned a few times, I think, I tried to be vague-ish), late-twenties

The Reject Bin

Several thoughts rolled through your head the next morning as you ate your oatmeal. You watched Bob from across the table, shielded somewhat behind your laptop, your active WIP open on it. You’d scanned over your most recent words, but they felt like alphabet soup. It was clear you were both a little frazzled from the night before. Him moreso than you. And you had work in a few hours, so your mind was already planted behind that counter, more or less.

He was an adult. He’d be fine on his own.

But it was a long shift, and you didn’t want to leave him alone if he wasn’t. The last time he wasn’t, it had ended up on the news.

He yawned, rubbing his face. He looked pitiful. Deep, dark bags under his eyes. That usual kind spark absent as he stared at a bubble in the wallpaper. He blinked a few times. “You say something?”

You repeated your previous suggestion. “I said you should come to work with me.”

“Ha. Funny.” 

“No, I’m serious. It’ll be so dead today. We have a big, comfy couch in the lobby. I can send you into a movie if you want to sleep, and I can pour you free slushees all day.” You pitched. “You don’t look like you’re in the mood to be here all by yourself and it’s too late for me to call in.”

“You don’t have to rearrange your day for me. I’m okay.”

You knew he wasn’t, but you didn’t press. “Really, I…think it would be nice to have you there. But it’s your choice. I’m not going to force you. I can give you the tour, if you want. Show you the projector room and stuff.”

That hooked him a little. He gave himself a sniff. “Yeah, I’ll bite. Let me shower and stuff. You leave soon?”

“Nope, like an hour from now.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He gave a tired grin and padded up the stairs.

You felt a little better, but you could tell he was struggling. You hoped you could turn it around, or at the very least, make it a little easier for him. You may be a healer, but there was no easy fix for the things he was carrying. Maybe you could make them a little lighter, though.

***

You straightened your nametag, leading Bob into the theater through the back entrance. He looked around at the boxes and boxes of soda syrup, the stack of kernel bags and so on. You hung your jacket on one of the hooks, and when you turned, he was standing over a tub full of poster tubes, the triangular boxes that the movie posters were shipped in.

“That’s the reject bin. You can take anything you want. No one called dibs on those.”

He nodded, giving them a gander, but coming to the realization very quickly that they were rejects for a reason. He perked up a bit, pulling one of the posters out of the bin. “I know this guy.”

You laughed, nodding. Bold red letters were etched across the bottom of it that read Vindicating John. “Yeah, John Walker? It’s one of those stupid conservative documentary movies defending him. Funded by people who are, um… mad about Sam being Cap now.”

“Ah. Racists.” He nodded, putting it back. He did end up taking a poster from a nature documentary about sea turtles, though, leaning it against the wall under your jacket.

You led him out behind the counter, motioning him to pass through the little swinging half-door at the edge of it, which he did, wandering further into the lobby. He walked out towards the marquee, eyes scanning along the showtimes.

Your manager, a college kid named Kennedy, perked up at the sight of him. “Oh, hey. Is this the houseguest?”

“Yeah, this is Bob. Bob, this is Kennedy. He’s gonna hang out here today. I figured that would be fine.”

“Oh yeah. Come on in. We’ve got fuck-all going on around here.”

Bob chuckled at that, giving a polite nod and a wave. “Thanks. I won’t be much trouble.”

Kennedy looked him over, eyes narrowing. “I recognize you from somewhere.”

Bob shrugged, Adam’s apple bobbing. He played with his hands, a little more nervous at the prospect of being recognized. You could see it in his eyes. “One of those faces, I guess.”

She chuckled and blew it off, settling behind the manager’s desk while you made sure everything was in order behind the counter. The tubs all stocked, lids and cups and so on. Bob sat on the couch, pulling a paperback out from his back pocket. A little one, Frankenstein. He must have gotten it from the bookstore after all.

With all that handled, you wandered over to the manager’s desk, leaning against it as you so often did when the lobby was devoid of customers.

“He’s cute.” Kennedy murmured, quiet enough that he couldn’t hear it over the sound of the popcorn machine making the first batch of popcorn of the day and the steady hum of the slushee machine.

You giggled, nodding. “He’s nice, too. Quiet, but really funny.”

“And you just met this guy?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend of a friend.” You explained, glancing over at him as he quietly read, turning the page every so often.

He looked exhausted. There were only a handful of customers for the first few hours, so he sat there unbothered for the most part, watching half-interested as people came in to buy gift cards and ask about showtimes. Bob closed his book and sat there, hands folded neatly in his lap, as he nodded off a little. You pouted, watching him doze. There was something so innocent about it. His sleepy little face, the frown that pulled at his lips. It made it very hard to believe he was the shadow man from the news. Almost everything about him did.

And yet, that glimpse you’d gotten last night…maybe it wasn’t completely…out of the question…

You walked over to the concession stand and printed off a ticket for one of the movies in the newer theater, the one with the big recliners, picking a seat for him in the back corner. You plucked the sample blanket from the sale display and poured him a slushee, pushing in the straw with care.

“Hey.” You put a hand on his shoulder, voice soft. The tiniest bit of light and warmth swirled between your palm and the fabric of his sweater, lending him just a morsel of your power.

He blinked awake, giving a bleary smile. “Hmm?”

“Come on. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” You nudged carefully, motioning for him to get up.

He stood, stretching his long limbs. He was always taller than you remembered him to be, the illusion of his smallness held together by the way he hunched when he stood, like his body had grown too fast and he was bigger than he was supposed to be.

Bob trailed behind you, up the hall to Theater 4. It was empty so far, the house lights still up. Maria Menounos welcomed you to Noovie, as she had so many times before. You guided him to the chair in the corner of the room and he plopped down, hands squishing the sizable armrests, measuring their cushiness. You slid the slushee into the cupholder and draped the blanket across his lap, tucking him in.

He frowned, tilting his head up at you. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know. But this is a bad day, huh?” You asked gently, expression empathetic, but not pitying.

He shrugged. Thought about it. Nodded. Frowned.  “Y-Yeah, it’s a bad one. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You shook your head, meeting his eyes.

“That’s why you didn’t want to leave me home today? You were afraid I would…”

“No.” You cut him off before he could spiral. “I wasn’t afraid of anything. I just didn’t want you to be alone all day, feeling like this. I know being lonely makes it worse.”

He stared at you for a long time, seeing something there that he hadn’t before. That you knew. That you’d felt the things he was feeling. Had been inside.

He softened. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be back in two and a half.”

***

You went back, as you’d promised, once the movie was over, broom and dustpan in hand. There had only been a grand total of five people in there, including Bob, so it didn’t take long to sweep up the smattering of popcorn on the floor.

He was snoring, leaned back in the chair, feet kicked up, mouth open. And if there wasn’t a horror movie queued up to play next, you would have left him there. You could tell he needed it. 

It was like he could feel you standing there, and woke with a shake, blinking up at you. Bob smiled a little, stretching like a cat. “Oh, hey. Good movie. What I saw, anyway.”

“Better?”

“Much better.” He agreed, fingers dug into the recliner button, sitting the seat back up.

You studied him, eyes scanning his form out of habit. A doctor’s eyes and a healer’s touch, Bucky used to say, usually followed by a quip of some kind to salve the vulnerability of it. He was bad with that. The sappy stuff. Especially without Steve around.

“I, uh…haven’t been sleeping super well lately, to be honest.” His eyes flitted across your features, measuring your reaction, and cutting it with a, “I’m fine, though, really. I…didn’t want to bother you.”

“Buddy, I have sleep powers.” You said. “I can knock you out, if you need me to. Put you out and go back to my room for the night.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I didn’t realize the extent of it…I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked down at your broom and dustpan. “Well, where to next?”

“You don’t have to come with me. You’re not on the clock.”

“No, but you’re letting me stay with you rent-free.” He shrugged, standing up and gathering the blanket you’d left with him into a clump of blue fleece. “Least I could do is keep you company.”

***

After work, you and Bob hit a drive-thru. He seemed to be in better spirits, singing along to the songs on the radio, the window down, breeze flowing through his hair. You ate dinner together on the couch, watching sitcoms.

Idly, you worked on an embroidered hankie, adding the last few details you’d been putting off before finally adding it to your finished projects pile. You still had a lot of work to do before you’d be ready to move out, but you were getting there. Slowly but surely. Little by little.

Bob sat close to you on the couch that night. Not that you mentioned it, or were sure he was even conscious of doing it. His thigh pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his clothes onto you.

“It’s cute. Looks really good.” He complimented, watching your careful fingers tie the final knots. “More bees.”

“More bees.” You agreed, folding it up and handing it to him. “For your trinkets.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “Hey, uh, would you mind, um…doing your magic trick for me tonight? I could really use it.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

He wanted to say something more. Wanted to rebuttal that you were good for so much more than knocking him out. But he didn’t know how to articulate it without spilling his soul all over your nice clean carpet, so he didn’t. Instead, he went upstairs, changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and then came back down to get you, ignoring the little voice on his shoulder, reminding him just how pathetic he was for needing your help for something as mundane as sleep.

***

You sat at the edge of the bed as Bob laid on his stomach, watching you as you glowed, your aura like the northern lights, stretched across the wall and ceiling. His eyes were soft and sparkling, lips parted as he gazed at you, sharp thoughts dulling slowly as your energy overpowered him.

His breaths slowed. Eyes drooped. Voice gave one last, weary protest before his head lolled onto the pillow, one careful, gentle hand playing with his hair.

And then he was out. Chest rumbling like thunder almost immediately as he crashlanded into what you hoped was a long and restful sleep.

You retreated to your own, walking through your night routine. Pajamas, cleanser, moisturizer, toothpaste, hair care. You pulled the cover aside, laid down, closed your eyes.

When you opened them you were flat on your back, ground hard beneath your head, snow fluttering down onto your face. You groaned, sitting up, pulling at the blanket that was now absent.

Headlights streamed through the trees. You shielded your face with a hand, lighting your palm, but not making more than a spark.

“(Y/N), please! He…He’s losing so much blood…”

You took a sharp breath and opened your eyes, heart pounding. The ground was a mattress again. The trees were gone. You were home, safe, in bed. And it was just a dream.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Dealbreaker

Waves crashed in the distance as you and Bob stood in your small, fenced-in yard. Birds chirped. Sparrows, mostly, but there was one little gray bird you couldn’t quite place, perched at the edge of your bird bath.

You carefully guided the clippers, trimming a branch of your lilac bush, shaking a few dead leaves out of it before handing it to Bob, adding it to the growing purple bouquet in his hands. The bush had been there long before you came to town. Towering, lush, and this time of year, very, very vibrant. You loved taking a little piece of it inside with you, inviting the smell into your home.

Bob watched a bumblebee buzz around the tulips, attention only pulled away when a pair of little girls on bikes rode by, their mother not far behind them.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

You grinned, waving. “Hi, Sadie! Sydney! Careful around that corner!” You looked at Bob once they were out of earshot. “It’s uneven over there. I’ve healed a lot of scraped knees, living here.”

He tilted his head, grinning. “You just heal people out in the open here?”

“Yeah, they all know who I am. I’m just lucky they don’t make a big deal about it. They’re more likely to ask me for a cup of sugar here than they are to beg me for a miracle. But I help out when I can.”

He nodded, glancing down at the flowers. “Lavender?”

“Lilacs. I like the smell more. Little more subtle.”

“Lilacs.” He repeated. “Cool. Are these the ones you put on my hankie?”

“Yep. Those and the bees.”

He laughed, following you up the steps and back into the house. “Who could forget the bees?”

The task at hand today was your odds and ends. Board games, trinkets, toys, collectibles, all of it. Boxes and boxes of junk from your attic.

For obvious reasons, you’d been given a lot of Avengers action figures. You put most of them in the junk box, but Bob dug one out, a figure of you, made shortly after what had been dubbed the Infinity War, in your old uniform. Mostly black with light blue accents, a few rays of what was supposed to be light stretched across your little plastic chest. It was a confused design, to be sure. Shuri had wanted to make a new one for you, but hadn’t found time with all of her other projects.

“Why are you getting rid of this?”

“Because I have like two dozen of them.” You replied, pointing to the stack of figures. Falcon, Cap, Beacon, Beacon, Beacon, Falcon, Cap. The occasional Black Widow. Hulk. You didn’t have a figure of Sam in his Cap suit, but you were sure one would find you eventually. You never bought them; they always came to you.

“Can I have it?”

You laughed. “Yes.”

Bob slipped a few other things into his box. A deck of Uno cards, a Rubik’s cube, a tiny metal lighthouse statuette. He was very selective today, hands careful, eyes moreso, but he seemed to be in decent spirits. You hoped the sleep you’d given him had helped. Even then, you knew it was a Band-Aid on something that ran deeper. You were a healer, but not a therapist. You had a feeling Bob needed both.

You sorted things for a good few hours and offloaded a lot of it. The two of you loaded it into a wagon. The thrift shop was close enough that it would be stupid to haul it all over in the car, so you walked it over, up a block and down the street. It didn’t take long. The guys running the place thanked you, printed you a little slip for your tax write-off, and sent you on your way.

The day was young, so you took Bob to your favorite ice cream place in town for a little afternoon treat, walking home the long way with soft serve cones in hand.

“Nice little shop.” Bob commented, grinning, a dot of vanilla on the tip of his nose as he finished off his cone. Yours was following suit, whittled down to just the nub.

“Oh yeah. I love that place. I’ve been on so many shitty first dates there.”

He looked puzzled by that. “You’re telling me you’ve been dating around and no one’s scooped you up yet? Uhhhh, no pun intended,” he tacked on with an awkward laugh.

“I was on the apps for a while. Joined a few clubs. Bowling league, bar trivia and whatnot. Nothing stuck. The glowing thing is a dealbreaker for most normal people. It’s fine and well and good when I’m doing that stuff on the news, but when I get a little too excited and glow in a bowling alley parking lot…suddenly it loses its charm, I guess.”

“Mmm. Speaking from experience, I’m guessing.”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

“They don’t get it, then. They…want the idea of you, but not the rest of it. You shouldn’t be afraid to shine. And they shouldn’t be afraid of you.” Bob’s words were deliberate. Clear-cut. Like he’d thought about this before.

You shouldn’t be afraid to shine.

It was good advice in general, but he meant it literally, in your case. You were a girl who glowed sometimes. Not always on purpose. Not always in a good and healthy way. More than anything, you needed someone who wasn’t going to dim your light; ideally, someone who didn’t make you feel bad for having it in the first place.

“What about you?” You asked softly. “You…on the dating scene? Before all this, I guess? The New York stuff.”

He huffed, shrugging. That ‘it’s fine’ look settled on his features again, so you braced for impact, ready to catch whatever it was he threw at you. “Actually, uh…I was on meth before all this. And then the…medical trial, then the Vault and now I’m here, so…no, pretty single.”

“Oh.” You nodded. Welp, there it was. That was why he’d had the shakes the week before, the sleep difficulties…he hadn’t been particularly agitated. He had his ups and downs, sure, but you were pretty sure they were from…something else. Again, healer, not therapist. “The Vault?”

“Long story.” He said with a chuckle, eyes scanning you, waiting for something else, some other question or flicker of anything across your face, but it never came. So instead, he asked, “You knew? About the meth?”

“Yeah. Well, no, not specifically. Bucky didn’t tell me anything. He’s got a real communication problem, but that is neither here nor there. That first night, you were shaking. I figured that was why. Didn’t know from what, exactly, but I could tell you were in withdrawal. Healer’s eyes and all that.”

He was quiet for a long moment, letting it sit. Quieter, “The whole time?”

You shrugged, eyes honest. “Yeah.”

You watched it settle in his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He nodded, thinking it over. The whole time you’d known, and it hadn’t made a difference. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You rebuttaled.

“For…not looking at me like I’m a time bomb. For…” He shook his head. “All of it. So much. More than I can…” His eyes got glassy. “Y-Yeah, just for all of it. I…”

You stepped closer, arms wrapping around his frame with ease. Like you’d done it a hundred times. A million. You rested your ear against his heart, forehead anchored against his warm, warm skin. He faltered, standing there stiff, until he finally processed what was happening.

He held on tight, long arms wrapped around your shoulders as he trembled. You felt tears, but you didn’t say anything. Just held him. Traced circles on his back. You knew he’d needed it for far longer than he’d care to admit.

His lips pressed against your hairline. Not a kiss, just…there, as if the feeling would keep him from floating off into the Seaberg sunset. 

***

When you got back to the house, Bob went upstairs to put himself back together. Wipe his tears and change his clothes. The shower kicked on upstairs. Meanwhile, you went through the kitchen cabinets, picking a few things to bring with you. A few cups, your favorite fork. The rest of it could stay at the house, in case you and whatever team Bucky was scraping together needed a place to lay low.

You pulled down a few mugs you’d painted at the pottery place in town. You’d gone with Earlene and the tarot ladies on a handful of occasions. It was always a fun time, even if you never felt like the things you made there were masterpieces.

But the one in your hands was nice. A decently big mug, painted sky blue, big puffy clouds left in the middle, where the glaze had been absent. It was streaky at best. But the showstopper was the lighthouse you’d painted near the handle. White tower with a black top, like the one in town. There was a sailboat on the water, and on the bottom, a secret, hidden crab.

Bob wandered down later, hair damp. He looked around at the glasses you were wrapping for travel. Once he got close to the counter, you slid him the lighthouse mug.

“You want this one?”

“You don’t?”

“You mentioned you like tea, so…We can share custody of it, if you want. At the Tower.” You said, fingers brushing his as he reached for it. “Remember our time here.”

He breathed, eyes as soft as could be, peering down at you through his thick, dark lashes. His stormy blue irises caught in the light of the sun. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He shook his head, staring at his fingertips. “I-I don’t think I could forget if I wanted to.”

You were both being pulled in. You could feel it. Like gravity. But just before you could collide, you heard the visitor at the door.

“Meow.”

You chuckled, cheeks flushed, heart racing. Crossed the kitchen in quick steps and ducked behind the counter, scooping out some feed for him.

He meowed again, more insistent this time.

“I’m coming, old man! Hold your horses!”

“Rrow!”

Bob exhaled in what should have been relief, the loss of that feeling building, building, building in his gut. Instead, he just felt empty. Well, emptier. It was getting harder for him to feel empty when you were around.

It’s cute, you know. That voice rolled in like smoke. Icewater down his spine. That you think she’d ever feel the same. You’re the stray kitten that waits at the door. She’s never going to let you in…

sentry.mp4

Thunder boomed the next morning, loud and abrupt, cutting any plans you had of going back to sleep with a sharp and swift crack of lightning. And another boom, of course. It was about an hour before your alarm. You sighed, groaned, and then sat up, wandering downstairs in your pajamas, laptop tucked under your arm.

You got some cereal and sat down on the couch, opened your word processor and scrolled back down to the end of the document, reading over your last few paragraphs.

Bzzz-Bzzz.

You glanced down at your phone, skimming the text that flashed across the screen. It was Bucky. Three simple little words: Check your email.

Well, who were you to defy those orders?

You opened your email and scrolled through the typical spam, looking for the one from Bucky. You plugged in your headphones, seeing that it was a video file he’d sent you.

<sentry.mp4>

You clicked.

A large, modern space stretched across the screen. A room, you assumed must be in the tower. A clump of people walked out of the elevator, Bucky among them; you couldn’t place the rest. They talked with a woman you recognized as Valentina Allegra DeFontaine, a very annoying and evil-looking congresswoman. You did not like her vibe, never had.

You didn’t actually hear much. The audio was muffled. The video quality left something to be desired as well, the occasional visual glitch obscuring the footage.

You watched as a gilded, golden superhero walked down the stairs, posture stiff and confident, blond hair slicked back. You couldn’t see his face, but you watched as he fought the others. They launched attacks against him and he stood unflinching, throwing them around with ease. People you assumed were literal supersoldiers, assassins, and he threw them around like ragdolls. Telekinesis. Super-speed. Flight.

Your stomach sank as you watched him bend a vibranium shield like it was made of tinfoil, eyes widening as he tore Bucky’s metal arm off, using it to smack Bucky across the room. He got air time. Air time. The two-hundred-something pound supersoldier, swatted away like a toy. Your fingers shook, heart pounding as you watched them all scramble back into the elevator away from the guy in the cape.

The figure turned and you finally got a glimpse at his face. You paused. Zoomed, enhanced, stared. Stared some more. Blinked, even.

It was fucking Bob.

He looked so…so different. His posture, his expressions, his powers, his attitude as he approached Valentina. You watched as he grabbed her by the neck, pinning her against the wall, squeezing. You felt sick.

Finally, it stopped. He went limp. Collapsed on the floor in a heap of gold and blue. Valentina and a young woman you assumed was her assistant, left. Not long after, a deep, impossibly dark shadow bled like ink across his body. And as the darkness spread, the footage corrupted, video stopping.

You’d seen the rest on the news, you were sure.

You sat there for a long time, breaths short but impossibly heavy, ears ringing. That was Bob. Your Bob. Your houseguest. Your…friend. That blond, stoic thing was Bob.

You couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

Thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed, and when the light faded, there was a figure at the top of the stairs. You yelped, slamming the laptop shut.

Your fist shot up out of habit, lit with Level 6 light. Bright. On a scale of household flashlight to LED headlights on a pickup truck driving behind you at night…pretty close to the second one.

“Woah! Woah, hey, it’s just…j-just me.” Bob stammered, hand shielding his face.

You lowered your hand, studying him. The glow faded gradually, the warmth dispersing into the chilly living room.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Y-you never have your headphones on.” He murmured, frowning as he studied you. “Everything…okay?”

“Fine!” You replied too quickly, flinching at your own volume. “Sorry. Fine. My…college friend sent me one of those stupid video game jumpscares. I’m fine.” You set your laptop on the table, getting up to get a glass of water. Or something. You just had to get away from it. “Don’t open that.”

“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, soft brown curls waving like a flag of surrender, hands clasped in front of him, sleeves draped down to cover the skin.

Your eyes lingered, but not in the way they usually did. There was some horror there now. You were sure he could feel it, and you felt bad about it, but you couldn’t help it. He was hiding a weapon under that unassuming sweater.

“Morning,” he said softly, head ducked down as though that would help catch your eyes easier.

You gave a labored smile. “Morning.”

***

Bob went upstairs for a bit to get away from the tension. You took a cold shower to cool off.

It’s just Bob. He doesn’t remember any of that. Bob is…Bob, he’s not gonna hurt you.

It only helped a little.

You pulled out your basket of crochet projects, stared at your stack of granny squares and gave a resigned sigh. Yeah, that would probably help. Focusing on something.

You grabbed the basket and went back down to the living room, settled on the couch again, organizing your yarn balls before setting to work. It was mindless after a while. Three double-crochets. Three double-crochets. Chain one. Three more double-crochets. The movement helped you calm down. Process. You hadn’t even realized you’d been stress-glowing until it dimmed, the storm having passed, thunder rumbling further in the distance.

Bob padded back down the stairs, lips pursed in a tiny, curious little :o

“Woah, you’ve got a whole pile of them! What are you making now?”

You smiled softly, looking him over. The hurricane in your stomach had calmed. He was just Bob again. The blond menace was pushed to the corner of your mind for the moment. This was Bob. Your friend. He would never hurt you. He would barely even touch you. 

“It’s gonna be a cardigan. Granny squares are great, because you just make a bunch and then sew them together when you’re done.”

He nodded, tentatively sitting on the couch, further than he usually did, legs crossed to make himself smaller. “It’s a cool hobby. Crochet. I feel like you can make so much with it.”

“You could make sweaters.” You suggested. “Since you seem to like wearing them so much, I mean.”

He hazarded a smile at that. “Would you teach me?”

You glanced at the clock. The day was shockingly young. You’d gotten up so early that it still wasn’t even noon yet. “Yeah, sure. Come over here.” You motioned him closer, smashing through the glass barrier between you.

Bob softened, looking relieved. You pulled an extra hook from your kit, showing him how to make a slip knot, chain, and then crochet into the chain. He was…very bad at it. But it was endearing. He sat directly beside you, still trying to get a read on you, on what had gone wrong that morning, on the thoughts that were still obviously swirling through your mind.

But as you laughed at his pathetic little noodle-looking crochet attempt, hands brushing against his as you showed him the motions again, those thoughts began to fade. It would be okay. You’d just had a weird morning. It was fine.

It was fine, right?

***

You sat on the floor in the living room that night in your pajamas, knees curled up towards your chest. You were glowing, but just a little. Contemplating everything while Bob took a shower. 

You weren’t afraid of the Winter Soldier. Even when Bucky had looked at you with no sliver of an idea who you were. Even while his vibranium hand was latched around your neck, holding you just far away enough that you couldn’t touch his skin to put him to sleep.

It had been scary. But you weren’t afraid of Bucky. Never had been.

You watched the Sentry video again. It seemed like Bob was talking to the others before the fight. There wasn’t audio, but his mouth was moving. And for a moment there, he still had those soft eyes. Like he was trying to talk them down before violence broke out. That insecure look on his face, like he was waiting for them to be proud of him. He wasn’t just a Bob-shaped shell. Some part of him was Bob. His ego, maybe. Well, not quite. You’d taken Intro to Psychology.

Bob was the Ego, the “true self”. Sentry was the Persona, the mask. And that left Void. Obviously, the Shadow. Not three separate people or three separate personalities, but Bob’s highs and lows magnified to the highest degree.

That made sense. That was what the super soldier serum did. It magnified. People were under the impression it turned people into perfect heroes, but…it had only done that because Steve Rogers was the best humanity had to offer. With someone like Bob—who was by no means bad, but…by no means perfect—well, it did what it did best. Put every problem he had under a microscope and tossed a pile of superpowers on top.

You lit a vanilla candle, got out some self care stuff. Bob padded back down the stairs, hair damp. He was standing small again, trying to shrink into himself, but you patted the floor in front of you and he walked over, plopping right down without hesitation. You pulled your hair our of the way with one of those skincare headbands and he did the same, copying your movements.

You handed him a small, foil package containing a skin mask. It was for hydration, to combat all the salty air. You also felt like he deserved to be pampered. You didn’t need the rest of the details to know things had been rough for him. People didn’t just turn towards the kind of drugs he had done for no reason.

You smoothed the mask across his face with gentle hands, molding it across his forehead, nose, cheeks, chin. After you put on your own, he gazed at you, tilting his head.

“My turn to ask the age-old question,” Bob said, dark blue eyes searching your features as best he could with the hydrated cotton layers between you now. Maybe he’d done it on purpose. A shield of sorts, in case this conversation didn’t unfold the way he expected it to. “Is today a bad one?”

“For me?” You asked.

He nodded, lips pressed together. “You’ve been…glowing a lot today. Does that happen when you’re stressed?”

Ah, so now it was time for him to therapize you. You couldn’t blame him. It was only fair, you supposed, that the healer finally got a taste of her own medicine. “Mmhmm. It, uh…yeah. Strong emotions. Happiness, anger, fear…stress.”

“Did I…do something wrong?” He wondered, so quiet it was like he was asking himself.

“No.” You shook your head quickly, voice certain. “No, you didn’t do anything. We’re good.”

He seemed unconvinced. “Alright.”

You took a breath, letting down a portion of your wall. “I’m serious. I get these…waves of…well, I don’t know what to call it other than anxiety, really. Today is not bad, but sometimes…It gets really bright. Really bright. Like, blinding people bright. Which is why…” You pointed out the window, towards the lighthouse, the guiding ray spinning, spinning, spinning.

“Have you ever had to…go up there?”

“Few times. When I first moved out here. Tony, uh…apparently during the blip, he had it retrofitted for me. Just in case. Barely spoke to the guy, but…he loved a project. I’m sure he got bored during those five years.” You sighed. “Didn’t even get to thank him for it.”

Bob peeled the facemask off so you could get a better look at his face. You took yours off too, rubbing the extra moisture in with your hands.

“That surprises me, I guess. I thought you had a really good handle on it.”

You shrugged. “We all have our flare-ups, you know. Nobody is perfect.”

He seemed comforted by that. Your imperfection. You hoped it made him feel less bad about leaning on you for help. And it must have, because he let you massage some energy into his muscles. Not that he was shaking this time; it seemed his seaside detox had been successful at least that much. But you could tell your energy helped him in other ways. Quieted that wicked little voice in the back of his head.

You could almost see it happen, that sharp edge in his gaze beginning to soften, sitting face to face on the floor, your glow bouncing off his features, a gentle breeze rustling his soft brown curls.

But maybe it wasn’t so much the energy you were loaning him as it was…this was just the way Bob looked at you now…

***

There was someone in the kitchen.

Your eyes opened. The ceiling fan spun idly, shadows swooping across the moonlit expanse.

You listened for a while, letting your eyes drift shut again until you heard a loud thud. Alright, that did it.

Exhausted, you hauled your legs over the side of the bed, sliding until your feet touched the hardwood. You padded down the hall, then down the stairs in your houseslippers, robe hugged around your shivering frame.

The rustling got louder. There was the very distinct sound of shattering glass.

“Bob?”

No answer. You lit your hand, casting shadows of the railing into the living room. One time, a raccoon had gotten in through your screen door when you’d left the back door open. And you were sure you’d closed it—you only make that mistake once—but maybe Bob had forgotten.

You got to the kitchen, and Bob was indeed standing there, hand shaking, outstretched towards the counter, where the shattered glass sat. The force of it…the distance between shards. It hadn’t been dropped. It had exploded. That put a little more urgency in your voice.

“Bob, are you okay?”

Eerily, he stood, unmoving, murmuring something to himself. You stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder, a little energy wafting from your palm to tug him back down.

He whipped around to look at you, gaze softening once he realized who you were. But you didn’t miss the clean, bright ring of gold around his iris before it faded. It sent a chill down your spine. He snapped out of it with a jolt, giving an earnest, if not somewhat frightened smile, looking down at the glass.

“Sorry, I…I just came down for some water and…”

“It’s okay.” You replied, shaking your head.

His eyes widened in something akin to horror when he saw the wreckage. The shards of glass blown across the counter, the floor. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You reassured, voice steady. “It’s from the dollar store. I wasn’t attached to it. I’ve broken three just like that. We’ll sweep up the glass. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, taking stock of himself. You looked him over, too, those healer’s eyes of yours doing one final sweep before deeming him uninjured. But knowing what you did now, he was probably bulletproof anyway. It was why he hadn’t had a mark when he’d burned himself making breakfast.

“I’ll sweep it up. You go back to bed.” He said, resigned. He was definitely coming back now, slipping into himself again the way you’d slid into your slippers upstairs. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just wanted to make sure a raccoon hadn’t broken in here again.”

He gave a slow, tired smile. “Again?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” You promised, touching his sleeve for a moment before turning. “Let me know if you need me to put you to sleep, alright? Goodnight, Bob.”

He took a shaking breath, Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you retreat up the stairs again. Bob waited until you were out of sight to let his face fall, that darkness settling onto his shoulder again like an old friend. “Night.”

Alec

The next morning, when you went down for breakfast, there was a note there that Bob had gone for a walk. You’d kinda felt that coming. He needed space and fresh air. You waited for him to come back before you left for work, but you knew he wouldn’t. That was the point. For one reason or another, he needed a break from you. And he was allowed to do that.

You left him a note in reply, short and sweet.

Text me if you need anything. <3

But the heart felt too…well, it didn’t feel right. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, especially when he was already feeling weird. You crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, trying again.

Text me if you need anything! :)

And you put a 20 dollar bill beside it, so he could get lunch or something.

Work was short, at the very least. Mercifully so. That didn’t save you an interaction with what you were sure must be the dumbest old woman on earth. That lead poisoning was no joke.

“I want half of a small.”

“Oh, so the value-size?”

“Yes, that one.”

You scooped the popcorn and handed it to her.

She frowned. “No, in the small bucket.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Oh. Okay.” You poured it into the small container and handed it over. Half of a small bucket of popcorn, just as she’d asked.

“What, are you not going to fill it up the rest of the way?!”

Obviously something had been lost in translation. But with that aside, you drove back home. Pulled into the parking lot. You were relieved to find Bob’s shoes in the doorway. Even more relieved to find him on the couch, playing Minecraft.

“Hey!” He smiled. “How was work?”

“I have to tell you about the dumbest lady on earth.” You said, kicking your shoes off. There was a little white paper bag sitting beside him on the couch. You recognized it. It was from the candy shop down the street. Well, good, he’d treated himself to something. It was so hard to get him to do that.

“And you have to tell me about that raccoon.”

“Right. That, too.” You chuckled, walking into the room and sitting on the other end of the couch, giving him your attention.

He pushed the bag towards you. “I didn’t know what flavors you liked, so I guessed.”

You reached into the bag, pulling out a sea salt and vanilla flavored one, swirled a rich teal color. “You guessed right.”

Bob gazed at you for a long moment, tilted his head, took a breath. He was standing at the ledge of something, hesitation etched deep into his stormy blue eyes. He paused the game, setting the controller aside.

“I’m sorry. For yesterday. I was in a weird mood and…I don’t want you to think…” He shook his head, swallowing something down. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

You sighed, shaking your head. Guilt tugged at your chest. An anchor. He still didn’t know about the video on your laptop. The one you’d watched half a dozen times now, analyzing, trying to get a handle on this…supposed most dangerous man in the world. With the evidence presented…you were finally starting to believe it.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I was freaked out yesterday because…” There was no way around it. You had to come clean. “Bucky…sent me the footage from the Tower. The Sentry footage. I…was a little freaked out. But I’m over it now. I just…It kinda blindsided me and I needed some time to process it. I shouldn’t have let you see me like that.”

“Oh.” Bob nodded. Swallowed again. “I, uh…don’t really remember that. That day is all kinda…fuzzy still.”

“I know.”

“I just…I know I did it and…I can do that stuff, but…” His gaze fixed on his hands, examining them. Every knuckle, every nailbed, every vein. 

There was something in him that hadn’t been there months prior. Weeks prior, even. OXE had pumped him full of drugs—albeit different drugs than the ones he was already on—deemed him a failure, declared him dead, and left him in a box to rot. Worse, actually. They’d left him in a box to be incinerated. That much, he did remember. Everything after that got a little iffy.

He didn’t know what he was now, most of the time. And it was clear when you looked at him that you didn’t either.

“Bob?” You prodded gently.

“I don’t really have an excuse for it. Or an explanation. They wouldn’t show me the video.”

“You were blond.” You provided unhelpfully.

He chuckled. “I heard.”

“I’ve watched it back a few times. The bits at the beginning, before the fight. You seem like…you, in there. If it helps. Valentina was clearly manipulating you. She’s good at doing that. It…looked like you were just…trying to…” You shook your head. “It’s not my place to diagnose you.”

“No, say it.”

“You were just trying to prove yourself. As a hero.” You said, certain of it. “I’ve been hanging out with superheroes long enough to know that look. I’ve worn it myself. Shoulders straight, chest puffed out. Like it will distract people from how afraid I am. Sometimes it does, to be fair.”

He softened a little at that, like he’d been bracing for you to say worse. Looked down at his hands again. “Still feel like a stranger in my skin sometimes. I’m…clumsy. I used to get hurt a lot. I don’t even bruise anymore. And I…don’t know my strength. And I blew up a glass last night.”

You nodded at the confirmation. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Before all this, I had no one. Which sucked, but…now, I…I guess I’m worried the people I do have are gonna get hurt.” A breath rolled out of him. Like a long, lazy wave, crashing on the shore. “I don’t blame you for being scared of me. I am, too.”

You shook your head. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“I’m not.” Your heart pounded. Veins throbbed. Chest ached. But it wasn’t from fear, you were pretty sure.

“The other guy is worse. That, I did see videos of. It’s…all over the internet.” Bob’s eyes began to wander. “My hair, my body, but just…darkness. Hopelessness. Emptiness.”

The way Bob spoke about Void, you knew he was a little more familiar with him. “I get the feeling you’ve been fighting him for a while.”

Bob heaved a sigh, finger absently poking the joystick of his controller.

“It’s not your fault they gave your depression superpowers.” You murmured, words threaded with more understanding than you could tell him. “I know it’s…heavy. Even with superstrength. I’m not a miracle worker. But I am your friend. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

A bitter chuckle. “People keep telling me that.”

“They mean it.” You were quick with the reply. Firm. You knew he could do this dance with you all day, but you needed him to know you were serious about this. You were serious about helping him.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He cracked a reluctant grin. “You’re wrong, though. You literally are a miracle worker. I’ve seen the edits.”

“There are edits of me???”

“Oh yeah. I’ll send you some later,” He promised with a smirk.

You could tell he was diffusing the tension with humor. Could clock it from a mile away. But you let him. You knew he was taking your words to heart, could see them swirling there behind those ocean eyes, churning like the waters just beyond your back deck.

***

A branch snapped under your foot. Another. You tripped into the snow, palms pressed into the hard, hard dirt. You weren’t sure how you got there. Or when. Or how long you’d been there. But you heard them screaming in the distance. Calling for you. Yelling your name.

You could help them now. You could control it.

You scraped yourself up, kept running, through the trees, toward the crash.

The hazards flashed like a beacon, drawing you in, right back to the scene of it. You’d been there so many times. So many times and none at all. And as soon as you planted your feet, knelt down at the site, you were right back in the woods again, running. Always running. Never getting there in time.

“(Y/N), please! He…he’s losing so much blood!”

You stopped running, arms hugged around the tree at the edge of the crash, breathing heavy. You watched the scene unfold from the outside, as opposed to the nightmare you’d been reliving since you were sixteen.

“I…I can’t! I’m trying, I…” She held out her hand, the younger you, a wisp of something crackling around her palm. It wouldn’t heal a papercut let alone the deep gash in Alec’s side.

Alec.

He was right there. Breathing shallow. Eyes closed. Fluttering, but…no, closed now. He slipped away and all you could do was watch, just like the first time. Powerless, despite the power in your veins.

And it looped. Over and over and over again.

You breathed, shook like the few remaining leaves on the trees. This wasn’t real. Wasn’t real. It had all happened before. It was over. Alec was gone. He…he’d been gone for years. You’d unpacked it over and over with half a dozen therapists. What had happened to Alec was awful…but it wasn’t your fault.

It was an accident. You’d had a panic attack. There was nothing you could have done to save him when you were losing blood, too.

A chill ran down your spine. Vision tracking forward like you were a camera on a dolly. And in the new depth, you spotted him. The Void.

You frowned. Pointed. “We are not doing this. Not tonight.”

And then you woke with a start, sucking in a greedy breath like you had been underwater. You sat up, walking down the hall. You knocked on Bob’s door, but there was no answer. You already knew why. Because Void was driving that ship right now, straight through Bob’s nightmares.

You opened the door, stepping inside. Footsteps impossibly slow and careful. Bob writhed in bed. Muttering softly, tossing over. It wasn’t gentle, so you had to be.

“Bob…”

You sat at the edge of his bed, reaching a hand out. You manifested your glow easily now, despite your racing heart. Gingerly, you rested your hand on his shoulder, using your power to give his subconscious a nudge.

He woke with a start, blinking up at you, a soft, knowing look in his eyes. Guilt laced deep, right to his bones.

“H-Hey.”

“You okay?”

He melted immediately. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I…I…”

“Hey, no.” You shook your head, keeping your voice reassuring. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Bob argued, shaking his head. “My…Void broke into your subconscious. That’s not okay. I…I wasn’t supposed to see that.”

A sigh fell from your lips and you hung your head for a moment. Bob straightened up, pushing himself into a more upright position, back flat against the headboard, knees curling up. He wasn’t curled up all the way, but his arms crested his legs, big hands smoothing the fabric on his shins.

“What…happened? Um…with your friend?” Bob asked softly, pulling his sleeves down. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from you. Your anxious glow. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too private, it just seems like…”

“No, it’s fine. We can talk about it.” You said, shaking your head. “When I, uh…when I was in high school, my friends and I got into a car crash. Bad one. It was winter. There was a deer. I hadn’t had my powers very long. I was having a panic attack and I was bleeding a lot. My friend Alec…I couldn’t heal him, and…” You lit your hand. Effortless. A flickering white flame, iridescent at the edges, like sunlight through glass, even at midnight. Just to prove to yourself that you could.

He stared at the light with the same awe of someone looking at a fishtank.

“If I’d practiced a little more, if I…had gotten to him a little faster, maybe I could have…”

Bob shook his head, reaching out to touch your hand. Just the edge of it, fingers curling around the base of your thumb. He was careful, like one wrong move would shatter you. And with the strength that hid beneath his skin, you could tell why. But you didn’t move. Frozen, like a butterfly had perched on your hand.

“No. That’s not your fault. You…you were just a kid.” He murmured, hand getting a little more comfortable against your own. You let the energy fall away, leaving just the two of you, soaked in moonlight. His hand slid further into yours, palm against palm. He was warm. A lot warmer than you’d expected, due to his choice of clothing. You figured he must be cold. But now that you knew he wasn’t…it would be hard to not just…bury yourself in it. His warmth. “You’re a healer, but you can’t save everyone.”

The words sat for a long moment. Heavy. Your therapist had said the same thing. You knew it was true, and yet, that didn’t quiet the voice on your shoulder. Not entirely. It never had. But it helped. He helped.

“You saved me, though.” He confessed, voice quiet. “I…really needed this trip. I…” He blushed, you were pretty sure, but…it was hard to tell in the dark. “I needed you, I think.”

And you could tell it was real. To him, it was real. A breath floated out of your mouth. “Bob…”

“I didn’t mean to get all deep, but…I meant it. I mean it. I think Void is so desperate to crack you open because he…he’s afraid of you. You’re…you’re the only one that gets him to shut the fuck up.”

You squeezed his hand, slid a little closer, wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His knees dropped, letting you in, arms curling gently around your waist, chin on your shoulder. You let one hand settle on the back of his head, and maybe it was the late hour, but you turned your head and pressed the tiniest kiss to his temple. Pretended not to hear him gasp in your ear when you did.

“I wish I had some explanation for you. I don’t know the exact science of it, but…”

“Doesn’t matter how it works. Just does.” Bob murmured, holding you tighter. His arms slotted easily under yours. Like he’d done it a hundred times. A million. “I don’t really think it’s science. I think it’s just you.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, pulling away to look at him. “You gonna be okay?”

His curls waved as he confirmed that he was, in fact, okay. “Fine. Sorry, again. Goodnight.”

“Night.” You repeated softly, giving his hand one last squeeze. Part of you ached, that last lingering moment, to stay. You wanted to stay, where it was warm. He was so warm. You could count the hugs you’d shared on one hand, but already, they were beginning to feel like home. Maybe more than this old house and its old, old bones. “No more apologies, though.”

Bob gave a shrug, a reluctant chuckle. “No promises.”

Right Here, With You

The main drag of town wasn’t terribly busy early in the morning. It felt lazy. The sun too golden. The air too sweet. Even the birds were in a good mood. Bob took you down the route he’d taken the day before, walking down the sidewalks like it was his town and not yours. Apparently this had been what he’d been up to while you were at work. Exploring. The smile on his face made you feel almost guilty that you’d have to leave in a few days.

There was that, too.

It felt at the same time like Bob had just gotten there, but also that he had been there forever. A staple in your life, and, apparently, the town now, as well. People waved at him as the two of you passed, and he waved back, smiling, asking how people were. One of your neighbors was taking their dog on a walk and Bob stooped down to pet it, the adorable little schnauzer wagging its tail.

It sniffed his hand thoroughly, licking it a few times. Bob smiled, petting it behind the ears, seeming to find the exact right spot. He seemed to be really good with animals. You wondered if having one would help him when you got back to the big city, give him something to take care of. Maybe you’d start with a goldfish or something, though.

You kept walking, pushed open the door of the antique store and guided him inside. Immediately, you were greeted with that beautiful musk of old things. Probably mold, if you were being honest. But there was something so nostalgic about it that you never cared. You weren’t even looking for anything in particular. Just looking. One last time.

It was a big store. Booths and booths of things from decades long gone. Records, porcelain dishes, doilies someone’s grandmother had made, DVDs, VHS tapes, board games that were undoubtedly missing a few pieces. Bob dug through a few tubs of old action figures. You lingered by a glass case of vintage games. In the big city, they would have been marked up as high as it goes, value inflated by the rarity of the cartriges inside. Here, it was fifty dollars for the lot. A blue Gameboy SP, Frogger, and a handful of Pokemon games.

Bob was behind you now, gazing down at it. “Man. I used to have one of those. It looked just like that. That color and everything.”

“Me too. A silver one. Think I still do, somewhere. In my room, maybe. In a drawer.” One of the areas of the house you’d been procrastinating packing up. You knew time with Bob was precious. You didn’t want to waste any of it.

“Sold mine.” He gave a bitter chuckle. A shrug. He was wearing that look on your face that told you exactly why he had sold it. You didn’t press further.

You brought the vendor over, pointed to the case. He got out his key, cut you a deal for $40, since it had been sitting there for a while and no one seemed to want it. Bob watched in something between gratefulness and horror as the transaction happened. Didn’t seem to know what to do with himself when you handed it to him outside the front door of the shop. Just like that. Hadn’t even hesitated.

He kept staring at it. The innocent little blue square. The plastic baggie full of games.

“You can borrow my charger. I’m sure we could order you another one. Or get one at a game store in the city.”

For once, he didn’t stiffen when you mentioned it. Leaving. Instead, he smiled, heart overfilled. You put a hand on his arm, but he decided very quickly that that wasn’t enough, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You reciprocated immediately, head tucked against his sweater. He did kiss your forehead this time, cheek resting there after the fact.

He didn’t protest. Didn’t say he didn’t deserve the affection or you or the Gameboy in the paper bag. He just let it happen. Just let you love him.

***

There were six bags of unused cookie mix in your cupboard. Six. And they expired in two months. Not that that stuff wasn’t good after the fact; it was mostly a dry mix, but still.

Bob was laying on the couch, playing his Gameboy. Pokemon Sapphire. You couldn’t help but smile. He pretty much hadn’t left that spot since you’d gotten home. Eventually, it would need to be charged, but for now, he just played in bliss.

You snatched two bags of chocolate chip, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard. The rest of it, you had. Eggs, butter, water. Bob wandered out to the kitchen not long after you set to work, your hair tied back, your sleeves rolled up. He rubbed at his eyes, looking over the sight curiously.

“Cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“Can I help?” He asked.

You nodded, motioning to the bowl, all the ingredients set beside it. “If you wanna stir that all together, sure.” You pulled the melted butter out of the microwave, pouring it in. He carefully cracked the eggs, and added water, mixing it together. The parts of the mixing where you would struggle a bit, Bob powered through easily. That superstrength at work in the most mundane way.

With that done, you two started balling up the cookies, rolling them between your palms and setting them on the greased pan. Elbow to elbow, side by side. He kept glancing over at you, shoulders hunched a little, but his posture was much straighter than it had been the entire time he’d been there.

“What starter did you pick?”

“Mudkip. Thought about Torchic, but…I like the water types.”

“That’s fair.” You chuckled. “It depends, for me. Bulbasaur in Leaf Green, Chimchar in Diamond, Totodile in Soul Silver…”

“Little bit of everything. Pretty well-rounded.” Bob said with a chuckle, plopping another raw cookie onto the tray. “I like Turtwig a lot, though. Cute little guy. Turtles are cool.”

You remembered the poster he’d snagged from the reject bin. The sea turtles. You wondered if he felt like that. A turtle. Like he could just hide in his shell. The shell in question being those big sweaters that swallowed him whole.

“Turtles are cool.” You repeated. You were getting towards the end of the dough now. You gathered what was left onto two spoons, scraping the edges of the bowl. You handed one to him and then lowered the pans into the warm oven.

Bob nibbled on it curiously. “The dough is the best part. I know you’re not supposed to eat it, but…”

“No, I get it. In college, I used to buy packages of pre-made dough just to eat it. You do have to limit yourself, though. Every time I ate more than three of those little chunks, I’d get sick as hell.”

He laughed at that, holding up his spoon. “This is a safe amount, I take it?”

“Should be.” You grinned, hopping up onto the counter. You cleaned off your spoon before setting it in the sink. Bob grabbed the empty bowl, setting it there as well. He filled it with warm water and soap, setting his spoon right next to yours.

That left him close, aided by the boost the counter gave you. Daylight streamed through the kitchen blinds, making him look so gentle. He looked tired. Always did. But there was something else there, now. Something swirled deep in his gut, or maybe it was yours. His eyes flicked over to you and your heart jumped.

You could see it in your mind’s eye. Bob leaning closer, resting a hand on the counter beside your thigh. His body so warm you’d feel the heat through your clothes. He’d dip his head down, hair falling in his face. You’d reach up, brush it out of the way with the gentlest fingers. The gentlest touch. He was a streetlight and you were a moth. And you were sure he felt the exact opposite way. He looked at you like you were made of starlight and dreams. Something he wasn’t worthy of.

You’d prove it to him somehow. Over and over again, like a wave on the shore outside. Steadfast and unrelenting.

He stood there at the sink, gazing out the window at the lilac bush. Huffed a breath. Looked down at you. Smiled. His gaze flicked away, Adam’s apple bobbing. And for a moment there, you really did think he would lean in and kiss you, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

You could practically see the little voice in the back of his head, harping on him for the feelings swirling around his heart.

He stepped away. That crackling static dissipated. You let out a slow, silent breath as he crossed the room to the calendar, eyes falling on that day, circled in pen. The day Bucky was supposed to come back for the two of you and whatever things you’d packed for the journey.

He stiffened a bit, shoulders falling. It was true, what they said. Nothing lasts forever. But Bob still felt greedy for wanting just a little more time.

***

That night, you slept soundly. No nightmares. For you, anyway. Just the sound of the waves in the distance, the hum of the air conditioner, the occasional buzz of the sump pump in the basement.

Knock-knock-knock.

It wasn’t a downstairs knock, it was an upstairs knock. You opened your eyes, inhaling a long breath, as though the air itself would wake you enough to get up. You pushed the blanket aside, walked over to the door, pulled it open.

Bob was already halfway back down the hall to his room when the hinges creaked. He turned, posture small and sheepish, hands fiddling with each other.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Y-Yeah, I just…” His voice buckled, betraying him. Reconsidered. “No. I…sorry.”

“Hey, come on.” You opened your door a little wider, tilting your head back towards your bed.

He took a shaky breath, thinking about it for a moment before his feet began to move, one in front of the other, carrying him over the threshold of your room. He hadn’t been in there, you were pretty sure, which explained the long sweep he did of the space, eyes exploring every poster, trinket, book.

“It’s kind of a mess in here, sorry.”

He chuckled, shook his head, stood there until you sat, patting the mattress beside you. He sat lightly, like he was afraid of breaking it. He took another breath, letting it roll out. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

You laughed softly, waving it off. “Nonsense. What’s up?”

Another shrug, that ‘it’s fine’ face resurfacing. You braced for impact. “Just can’t…sleep. I…was wondering if I could…sleep in here. With you. But then I realized that was stupid, so I walked back up the hall.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t so bad. “You can stay in here. That’s fine.”

He relaxed. “Okay. I’ll uh, go grab a blanket. I can sleep on the floor.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

It took a moment for the realization to bloom on his features, but once they did, he couldn’t keep that shy little smile off of his face. You pulled the covers back, climbing in first. He slipped one leg in, then the other, pulling the blanket back across the two of you.

You took in a breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you focused, leaning into that inner warmth, your guiding light. Your beacon. You glowed ever so softly, though it was mostly muffled beneath the blanket, motioned him closer, but he was one step ahead of you, climbing right on top, like he’d been waiting for it. Like since he’d gotten a taste of your energy, he’d been aching to feel it all over, all at once.

Bob sighed into your chest, his weight heavy and real and grounding on top of you. And warm. Oh, so warm.

You reached up and played with his hair, your other arm crossing his back, soothing circles into his tired muscles. He melted like a cat, just totally boneless on top of you.

A slow, lazy smile tugged at his lips, eyes half-lidded. “I hoped it would feel like this.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded as much as he could manage. “Yeah. You’re like a heating pad.”

You chuckled. “You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah I…run warm. Sorry.”

“No, it’s nice. This is nice.”

He didn’t reply to that, just thought for a long moment. You stared at the ceiling, your light dancing across the white expanse, casting shadows through the cobweb in the corner. “I, uh…had a nightmare. That’s why…”

You nodded, fingers working his scalp. “I figured. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Well…kind of.” He sighed, feeling heavier suddenly. You cradled him more, pressing a kiss to his temple. That seemed to help, just a little bit. “Sometimes…I feel like the others…sent me here so they could figure out how to get rid of me. Get me out of the way for a while until they could figure it out. Telling me to look at the literal flowers until…”

Your heart sank like a rock. It sank further when he pulled away to look at you, your soft glow glistening in his glassy eyes. “Oh, Bob…”

“I’m indestructible. I know that.” A heavy sigh. “Believe me, I know that. But…”

“They didn’t. I know Bucky. He wouldn’t do that.” You reasoned, but it didn’t seem to help. You tried a different approach. “They…sent you here because I needed you.”

He scoffed.

“I mean it. I’ve…been tucked out here so long, away from it all. I hated it. The city, all the people, the knowing looks, grabbing hands, people who wanted the idea of me. I wanted the quiet. But after a while, that quiet just starts to eat at you from the inside. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until he dropped you off at my doorstep. There are still people I can help; but there are also still people who can help me. I think I lost sight of that.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a tear slipping down his cheek. You reached up and wiped it away with a gentle thumb. His lip trembled as he asked, “You think I’ve helped you?”

Your heart broke. “Of course you have. We’re going back to New York in a few days, but…I think some part of me will always live right here, with you.”

He choked on a sob. You pulled him closer, back down on top of you, combing through his hair with the utmost care and gentleness. Your glow got a little stronger. Not on purpose. Not enough to hurt. It just did that sometimes when you were feeling big feelings.

He buried his face in your neck, tears rolling down between your skin and his. You let him get it all out until he calmed, breathing slowing to normal again. And then slower than normal. He was out. Your invincible boy and his big, giant heart. You wished the world had been kinder to him. Gentler. You wished he wasn’t carrying such sadness behind those ocean eyes. 

Someday, his shadows would shrink and he’d learn to be at home in his skin again, but until then, you’d just have to continue to be his beacon in the storm, guiding him back to shore.

Radiant

It felt like a dream, waking up in his arms. But maybe it was because you had woken up there so many times in yours. This time, it was real. His breaths wafted across your skin, hair falling against the skin of your neck, nose pressed to your collarbone. One strong arm was coiled around your waist, the other was tucked somewhere beneath his broad frame. He took in a long breath, as though he could sense you waking beneath him, gorgeous blue eyes fluttering open in the daylight, framed by those irritatingly thick eyelashes.

His lips curled into a sleepy grin as he looked at you, not moving a muscle. “You glow in your sleep.”

You laughed, giving his side a loving pinch. “And did that impede your rest, Mr. Reynolds?”

“On the contrary, you make kind of a good nightlight.” He punctuated it with a long, impossibly soft kiss to your cheek. “But, uh…if we’re going to do this again, I might need to order a sleep mask.”

The way he said it was so simple. So obvious. Something that had caused you so much grief in your previous dating life was…an Amazon click for him. It put everything into a new perspective. If he wanted to, he would, as they said. Well, Bob absolutely wanted to. It gave the butterflies in your stomach something to gossip about, at the very least.

You cuddled for a while, getting accustomed to the feel of each other. It was clear now, that it very much was not just a healing arrangement anymore. What you were, exactly, hadn’t been articulated, but you couldn’t wait to find out.

He studied you, laid on his side, face to face on the pillows, his legs tangled with yours. “Were you and Bucky ever…uh…you know…?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No. Bucky is great, but he’s way too old for me. I don’t think he’s ever seen me as anything but his kid sister. I was pretty young when Sam roped me into all of this. Early twenties, but still.”

“Hmm.”

“Why? Did you think we were?”

“Not exactly. I just…I mean…” He chuckled, cheeks flushing. He reached a hand out, brushing your hair back with the utmost care, thumb warm as it skimmed your face. “You’re starlight. If I was the Winter Soldier, I would have melted. Especially if you quiet his shadows the way you quiet mine.”

Starlight. That one felt different. But you’d have to unpack that later. Probably when you were unpacking all of the literal boxes piling up around this place.

Eventually, Bob straightened up, lifted his sweatshirt a bit to scratch his stomach, just enough to give you a look at…what lie beneath.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Bob was ripped. This entire time, he’d been hiding the body of a Greek god with those oversized sweaters. He had an eight pack, easy. Granted, that was all you could see from the angle, but you could imagine the rest. You knew he hadn’t been working out since he’d been staying with you. It had been a lot of mac and cheese and fast food and laying on the couch watching movies, sprinkled with the occasional walk or home-cooked pasta dish. That damn supersoldier serum…

Bob’s eyes widened a hair, noticing the look on your face. He smoothed the shirt back down, snapping you back to reality, gave a shy little smile. Blushed. “Oh, uh, those, yeah. They’re new to me, too. I forget they’re there, sometimes.”

“Must be the, uh..supersoldier serum. Gives you killer, um…metabolism, I’ve heard…” You murmured, averting your eyes. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. The Sentry suit had been tight, from the footage you’d seen, but…you had managed to separate that Bob from the one in front of you so effectively that it was almost like a jumpscare. “Anywaysssss, um, I’m gonna go get breakfast started. Pancakes?”

He grinned, tilting his head as he admired your pajamas in the light of day, a cute little two-piece set with seagulls on the pants. “Pancakes sound good. With blueberries?”

“Yeah, I think the ones from the farmer’s market are still good.” You agreed, stretching out your tired limbs. Despite the supersoldier sleeping on top of you, you were…surprisingly well-rested. In fact, you were pretty sure it was the best sleep you’d gotten since Bob had showed up.

You padded down the stairs first, setting to work. Well, after you buried your face in the fridge and let out a strangled groan, directly at the orange juice container. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Bob’s muscles. Even if you weren’t already head over heels for the guy, that surely would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Pancakes. Pancakes. Think about the pancakes. You repeated, a stupid little mantra. That voice in the back of your head quipped that it was a good thing they weren’t waffles.

Once there was a stack of them sitting on the table, a few glasses of orange juice poured, Bob came downstairs, sitting opposite you at the table. He cut into his pancakes, taking a bite. You looked up to see if he liked them, and instead caught him staring at you, eyes sparkling, that shy smile firmly in place. His eyes flicked down to the table, but the smile didn’t go away.

He swallowed, cleared his throat. Smiled again.

You smiled too, which led to him giggling. Just a little. Shoulders shaking with the effort.

He licked the syrup from his lip. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” You replied, something akin to an inside joke bubbling up between you. Bucky would clock it immediately, you were sure, the thick string of affection tying the two of you together now. But maybe that had been part of his plan after all. Or maybe he really had just been truly desperate and deemed you a decent enough babysitter for the most dangerous man in the world.

“I, uh…” He thought for a moment. “I wanna take you to dinner tonight. There’s a little diner in town. It’s…It’s on me. Don’t bring your wallet.”

You smiled bigger, curious how he would make it work, but excited nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I…I’ve kind of never done this before.” He admitted, fork stabbing into the top pancake in the stack, right into a gooey blueberry. “I mean…whatever this is. I just kind of assumed, ’cause we were…kissing eachother…and stuff, so…”

You reached across the table, taking his hand. “I would love to go on a date with you, Bob.”

His fingers curled around yours, squeezing. Warm, warm thumb crested over your knuckles. He repeated the words you’d said last week like he’d been waiting to all along. “It’s a date.”

***

You spent most of the day packing up your clothes, something you’d been putting off since you still needed to wear them. Bob went out for a bit, leaving instructions to be ready by six. You dug out something nice, a suitable pair of shoes, accessorized and did your makeup for probably the first time since he’d gotten there. Maybe the first time in months, if you were being honest.

And when six o’clock rolled around, there was a knock on the door.

You grinned despite yourself, walking over to answer it. Bob was standing there in a blue blazer covered in lighthouses, a periwinkle buttondown, black tie, and slacks. The jacket, you recognized. It had been Earlene’s husband’s before he died. Now, this was starting to make more sense.

In his hand, he gripped a clumsy little bouquet of lilacs and white roses. Perched inside them, an iridescent tarot card. The Knight of Cups. Alright, message received.

“W-wow…you look incredible.” He murmured, those curious eyes taking in every detail before him, committing it all to memory.

“So do you. The blue brings out your eyes.” You breathed, taking him in.

His hair was still done in floofy brown curls, tie knotted carefully at his throat. He peered out from behind them, fidgeting with the flowers. He was nervous.

“Hey, it’s just me.” You murmured softly, taking a step closer, reaching for his other hand.

He chuckled, gazing down at you. “I know, that’s…why I’m nervous. You’re like, the girl of my dreams.”

Your heart did a fucking backflip. You brought his hand to your lips, grazing his knuckles. “Let me get those in water, okay? You all ready?”

“I’m ready.” He nodded, stepping into the doorway while you put the flowers in a tall glass of water. When you turned back, he was reaching for your hand, a giddy look in his eyes. He looked even giddier when you slipped your hand into his.

Once you were in the parking lot of the diner, he ran around the front of the car to open your door for you, offering his hand, which you took immediately, letting him lead you inside one of your favorite spots in town, Marceline’s.

It was an old-fashioned place. Jukebox against the wall, checkered tile floor, hot rod red booths. The menu was all classic: burgers, fries and milkshakes, soda in glass bottles with swirly-striped straws. It was a little busier than you’d expected, all things considered, a good handful of regulars littered around. The hostess led you to a booth by the windows and Bob sat across from you, stars in his eyes.

There was a guy a few booths down in a ballcap, wearing his sunglasses inside. Odd, you thought. But you wrote it off.

You browsed the menu for a bit before placing the order with the waitress when she came around, wearing a vintage pink uniform with an apron and a big, angular collar. She had a cherry embroidered into the corner of it. 

The two of you ordered your entrees, a plate of fries to share, and some milkshakes. And when she left, Bob could not stop grinning at you.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that.” You said with a smirk, watching as his cheeks flushed red.

He huffed, mock defensive. “I know, I just…I can’t remember the last time I was this…happy. In a good way and not…in a manic way, you know? I’m gonna wake up any second now, I’m sure.”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes. “We’re wide awake. But trust me, I can’t believe it, either.”

“I thought about…taking you to that ice cream place again. You know, after this. But you said you’d been on so many shitty dates there…seemed like bad vibes.”

You scrunched your nose. “Good call. Besides, the milkshakes are really good here anyway.”

“Maybe we could go stargazing? On the beach? I didn’t really check the weather, but I threw a blanket in the backseat earlier.”

“I like that idea.”

Dinner was good. Simple, but good. Classic, in a way. Your fingers brushed his when you reached into the fry basket. He savored his milkshake, really cherishing every moment. The two of you talked all the while, like old friends. Like he was your lifelong neighbor boy, not the stray Bucky had dropped off two weeks before.

You remembered the way Earlene talked about her husband, Roy. The man whose jacket Bob was wearing. He’d passed before you ever met her, but you could tell not a moment went by that she didn’t think of him.

“Oh, honey, I made Roy chase me for weeks before I let him take me out. But he was mine the moment I saw him. I think he knew that.”

You tried to pinpoint it. The moment Bob had become yours. But you knew it was when Bucky had stepped out of the way and Bob was standing there on your sidewalk, knuckles white around the handle of his suitcase, like a nervous kid at sleepaway camp.

“You still with me, (Y/N)?” Bob waved a hand in front of your face.

“Hmm? Sorry. Lost in thought.” You murmured, guiding your eyes right back to his. “You say something?”

He shook his head and let out a long sigh, floored. “God, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart raced, cheeks warm. And in the reflection of the window, in the corner of your eye, you watched yourself begin to glow a little. Almost imperceptibly. But you knew Bob picked up on it.

His smile stretched wider. “Love when you do that.”

You quirked an eyebrow, trying to neutralize it to no avail. “It’s a fun party trick, huh?”

He nodded in agreement immediately. “I’ll trade you, if you want. You can have all the strength and stuff and I’ll glow and make people sleepy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, offering your hand, which he playfully shook. “Deal.”

***

The air was crisp when you left the restaurant, joint hands swinging between you on the way back to the car, lovesick smiles on your faces. Bob walked to the driver’s side door with you, reaching to open it, but stopping halfway there, heart both in his throat and on his sleeve.

He was going to kiss you.

Bob wiped his palm on the fabric of his borrowed blazer, taking a step closer. Another. His foot landing between the two of yours. He swallowed, leaning closer, mouth hanging open while he thought, strategizing an approach. One large, warm hand settled on your waist.

“I, uh…I guess this is the part of the night where…” He exhaled nervously.

The guy in the ballcap crossed the parking lot. You paid him a little more attention this time. The way he circled like a shark, muttering into his phone.

“It’s okay if…you don’t want to, I just…” Bob mumbled, losing steam.

“It’s not that.” You shushed him, hands resting on his firm chest, your back up against the car. His arms crested your form out of what he could only describe as instinct. You glanced over Bob’s shoulder to where the guy had been, but he was gone now.

“What? What is it?”

“There was a guy in a baseball cap. I think he was following us.” You uttered, voice quiet and urgent, slipping into Undercover Avenger mode.

“A w-what? What guy?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

You were cut off by a quick and vengeful taser to the neck, debilitating you instantly.

“Get off of her!” Bob yelled. The guy tried to tase him as well, but it didn’t work. Bob stood there, staring at the guy, face twisted in confusion. On instinct, he reached up, using telekinesis to yoink the taser out of the guy’s hand, chucking it halfway across town.

You straightened up, body aglow. You shined a brilliant light directly into the guy’s face. Another one rounded the side of the car, with some powered-up weapon, emiting waves not unlike your own. It felt familiar, in a fucked-up way, sweeping rushes of artificial drowsiness washing over your body. Your knees buckled, and you gritted your teeth as your light was stripped away.

Obviously they were HYDRA and obviously they were there for Bob, but you were sure they’d take you as a consolation prize. Use you as leverage against Bucky or Sam or whoever was left.

Bob waded the space with a little trouble, the waves clearly affecting him, but eventually reached the gun and tore the thing right in half, to the horror of the agent holding it. He knocked him out of the way like he was an action figure.

You got to your feet, breathing heavy. You took stock of Bob, reaching up to touch his hot, hot skin, tilting his face down to get a better look. That gold ring around his irises glowed as he stared down at you, the look on his face somehow soft and threatening. Jaw clenched, muscles strung tight. He looked at you like he was trying to place you, but once he met your eyes, familiarity spread behind his gaze.

A dark van pulled into the lot and more agents filed out of it.

“I need you to stay with me, okay? I need you to control it.” You murmured, voice serious.

Bob nodded, the ring vanishing. He took off the jacket, chucking it into a bush for safety, since it was borrowed. Your light reflected off of his periwinkle buttondown as your glow returned, feet almost involuntarily rising off the pavement, poised like a dancer’s. He couldn’t help but smile. Catlike and enamored as he watched you lock in.

For their credit, the HYDRA agents tried. But they had severely underestimated the two of you. You blinded a guy in nightvision goggles, but that was just due to his own stupidity, really. You hovered, blasting them with bolts of burning energy. Bob stayed grounded, feet planted firmly in the parking lot, but the superstrength and telekinesis were more than enough to fight off any attacker that came his way. He had some natural fighting instincts. Obviously he did, if the Sentry videofile was to be believed. But you hadn’t been sure how much of that was Bob. Now you knew.

A helicopter chopped through the air over the ocean, the octopus-like hate symbol emblazoned on the side of it, shooting a hail of bullets that you blocked in an iridescent forcefield, shielding whatever onlookers hadn’t taken cover yet. Bob caught the strays, dropping them harmlessly to the parking lot with little metal clinks. The locals, bless their hearts, were too curious for their own good. Especially when something otherworldly started unfolding in their tiny little town.

The sight of the helicopter set you off, rage brewing in your belly as you rose higher into the air, trailing light like a comet. You were raising power levels. 8, 9, 10…if you were hooked up to the sensors the Wakandans had monitored you under, you were sure you would have wrecked the scale. The streetlight sparked, then exploded. Bob shielded the onlookers from the glass as he took out the few remaining ground attackers, popping their tires with his telekinesis. The air let out with a vicious hiss.

That’d show those snakes.

You balled your fist, letting the energy around it charge before you punched forward, blasting the helicopter. The tail spun as it fell out of control, crashing down into the ocean with a ginormous splash. An explosion, then silence.

You took a sharp breath, surfacing. You looked down at the parking lot, where the townsfolk that had gathered cheered. Slowly, you sank back down, one foot touching the cement, then the other. Immediately, Bob was there, a hand on your elbow, looking over you with care.

He exhaled a long, shaking breath, stars in his eyes. “You are radiant. That, wow…I’ve never seen anything so…I…you’re amazing. You’re amazing and I think I…well, I really…”

You planted a hand on his cheek, effectively hushing his stammering, the other steadying on his shirt. “This is the part of the night where I kiss you.”

“O-Okay.” He nodded enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut, lips pursing in preparation. You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He melted against you, letting you lead him through a sweet, soft, sentimental kiss. When it was over, he kept chasing it, kissing you again, and again, and then, really, one last time, giggling to himself.

You hugged him tight, arms wound around his broad shoulders, holding him close. 

His cheek moved beneath your lips as he grinned, hugging you back, arms strong and stable. He murmured into your ear, tone carrying a joke right to you, like a leaf on the river. “This isn’t just because of the abs, right?”

You laughed loudly, shaking your head. You pulled back an inch, to meet his eyes. Noses brushed as you went in for one last kiss that he eagerly returned, humming into your mouth, lips a little more confident, albeit still clumsy. But he’d learn. You had all the time in the world for that.

He made sure to grab the lighthouse jacket from the bushes before you left, carefully dusting it off and folding it in his lap on the drive home. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid to go back to the city anymore. 

No matter what happened, he’d have you.

The Lighthouse

Your alarm was shrill the next morning, rousing you quickly and directly. You slapped the nightstand blindly before Bob reached over and used his telekinesis to turn it off. You took a breath, turning to face him. He was already looking at you, eyes soft with admiration.

“Morning, starlight.” He murmured, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Morning, Bob.” You replied, crawling closer to him.

He tugged you to his chest easily, chin resting against your head. He pressed a long, soft kiss there, at the edge of your face, strong arms winding tight around you. “Big day today.”

You gave a wry snort. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

You cuddled for a while longer, bargaining for time, kissing between whispered words before you managed to pry yourself not only from your mattress, but from him. Threw on some clothes, went down the stairs, and whipped together a quick breakfast before there was a knock on the door.

Bob pulled it open, wearing the same sweater he’d been wearing the day he arrived. The blue one that made him look so soft and small. He was standing a little straighter now, eyes a little brighter. His shadows hadn’t been banished completely, but he was shades lighter than you’d found him. The ocean air was good for that.

“Hey, guys!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even with your back turned as you plated up some eggs and panfried hashbrowns. “Come on in! (Y/N)’s just finishing up breakfast.”

Bucky led the group inside, giving a wave, vibranium hand glinting in the sunlight. Behind him was a short young woman with smoky eyes and short blonde hair and a mountain of a guy with a long gray beard. You’d seen them on the news, you were sure. Probably in the same newscast you’d seen Bob’s alter ego. So this was it. This was the team.

“(Y/N), this is Yelena and Alexei. They’re…Nat’s family.”

Your gaze softened immediately, looking them over. You’d heard a bit about Yelena. Not much, just pieces here and there. Natasha had kept her cards pretty close to her chest. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is ours! Beacon! I have seen you on the TV, doing the glowing and the shooting and the flying, it’s great!” Alexei greeted, offering a strong handshake and a hearty pat on the back.

Yelena was cradling Reginald in her arms, bouncing him like a baby, his orange tail flicking with content. She looked up at Bob, smiled softly. “You look good, Bob. How have you been, out here?”

Bob smiled back, eyes flicking to you and then back to her, cheeks flushing. “Great, yeah. I’m doing good. Bucky was right. She’s an expert.”

She looked at you, grinning. “I am keeping this cat, by the way.”

Bob shook his head, mouth falling open in protest, “Oh, that’s not…”

Bucky put a hand on your shoulder, looking proud. “Listen, thirteen days is not bad. I’m surprised you two lasted this long before winding up on the news. So, congrats. You almost made it two weeks.”

“Ha ha. Thank you very much, Congressman. First of all, not our fault HYDRA had boots on the ground out here. Second, no appearances of the other guy whatsoever.”

“Well…” Bob cut in, grimacing.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, eyes darting between the two of you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Right, so…technically, he showed up a little, but it seems like he’s kinda…relegated to Bob’s subconscious at the moment.”

Bucky waved a hand. “In English, please.”

“He only shows up in my dreams. And…other people’s dreams, also…”

“Huh. Makes…sense, I guess. We’ll have to look into that.” Bucky looked around at all the boxes you had piled up in the living room. “Anywho, you all packed up? We can start moving stuff while you two eat breakfast.”

“Yep. Everything in here is coming. Everything else is staying. Figured it would be a good safehouse, down the line.” You said, poking your eggs with a fork.

Bucky grinned, nodding. One of those slow grins that hit his eyes first, crinkling them at the edges. Maybe some part of him had expected you to back out. To decide to stay in this little sea town you called home. Maybe some part of you had, too. But every glance you threw Bob’s way just cemented it more. You needed him. Maybe more than he needed you. And that was worth chasing across the country let alone a few hundred miles to New York.

***

You cleaned and dried the dishes, putting them away. You closed the kitchen curtains, turned and walked back towards the living room. You could hear Yelena and Alexei bickering in the front yard, beyond the open door. All the boxes had been taken aside from Bob’s, filled with his odds and ends. The poster from the reject bin, the records he’d taken, a stack of books and a few DVDs, a Rubik’s Cube, and a little metal lighthouse.

Bob picked it up, holding it on his hip. He caught you reminiscing, soft gray cardigan pulled around yourself as you looked around the living room one last time. It was time.

He offered his hand and you took it, fingers slotting between his easily. He raised it to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, giving a soft, reassuring smile. You’d been coaxing him out of his comfort zone this whole time, now it was his turn.

“You ready?”

You nodded, eyes honest. Your heart ached, but…you were beginning to think it was in a good way. “Ready.”

“Cool.” He looked around the living room one last time, eyes sticking on the painting over the couch. “We’ll be back.”

He sounded so sure of it. You knew he was right. Part of your heart would always live in your sleepy little sea town. And now, part of it would always live with Bob.

“You’re right.”

“We better go quick, before Yelena changes her mind. It took me forever to talk her out of taking Reginald. But that little guy belongs here, exploring.”

The two of you walked outside, set Bob’s box in the back of your car, next to your laptop and other fragile bits.

“I am riding with you two.” Yelena announced, sliding into one of the back seats.

You glanced over to where Bucky and Alexei were climbing into the van they’d brought. Bucky saluted, gave an annoyed-looking expression, and pulled out of the driveway first.

In your own car, you adjusted the air conditioning, let Bob pick the music, and got the navigation going. Yelena poked around the stuff in the back seat, finding the snacks easily.

“Bob, do you want some? She’s got Doritos and stuff in here.” She murmured, the bags crinkling as she ruffled through them.

He chuckled. “Nah, I’m good. Maybe in a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the familiarity, the bond you could already feel there. You hoped you’d be able to slip into the team as well. But all you needed to do to get confirmation of that was glance at the passenger seat, where despite your lack of obvious glow, Bob was still looking at you like you were made of starlight.

And as you rolled down the driveway, past the familiar streets and smalltown faces, getting farther and farther from familiarity, the last thing in view of this place you’d called home for so long…was the lighthouse.

Starlight

It had been two months since you’d arrived at what was now called the Watchtower. A pretentious name for Valentina’s New Avengers lineup, but that was the least of your concern. Her big thing was optics, so she hadn’t even balked when Bucky had presented you as an option for what she dubbed the “Bob Problem.”

You learned very quickly that you didn’t like her and just as quickly that you didn’t trust her, but you were quick to put her in her place when she first uttered that phrase around you.

“He’s not a problem. He needs support. And therapy. And meds. And quite possibly a cat. But you will treat him with respect or he and I are both gone and I know you need us more than we need you.”

She’d been impressed by that. “Well, Beacon, in that case, I’m glad to have you aboard, since you seem to have him all figured out.”

“Actually, let me stop you right there. I…was considering a new codename maybe.”

“A rebrand, I like it. What are you thinking?”

Your eyes wandered to Bob in his reading chair by the window before returning back to her. “How about Starlight?”

She grinned, the wheels turning behind her eyes. She could see the headlines now, you were sure. “How about it…”

The rest of the lineup was just Ava, who went by Ghost, a woman that could walk through walls, which was very cool, and…John Fucking Walker. You’d stared at him for a long time when you first encountered him, frozen in your tracks, frowning while Bucky chuckled across the kitchen.

“No. Are you serious?” You glanced back at him and then up at John again. “Ewww.”

John scoffed, offended immediately. “Hey!”

“No, that’s a valid ‘ew,’ John. She gets at least one of those.” Bucky muttered over his mug of black coffee. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

In your free time, you wrote again, inspiration more than sparked by your time with Bob. Every time you got stuck, all you had to do was let him read what you had so far, and he’d make suggestions. Even if they didn’t always work necessarily, they got the ball rolling again. And the Tower had ample space to do it. There were lots of quiet spots to tuck away in. Today you’d opted to work in one of the common areas, though, Bob sitting at the high-top table with you, fingers fiddling with yours.

Ava opened the dishwasher and groaned loudly before yelling, “Bucky! How many times do we have to tell you not to put it in there with dishes?!” She yanked his vibranium arm out, holding it aloft in the air.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, shaking your head. Bob grinned too, eyes locked on you fondly. He was clumsily crocheting something next to you, stopping and holding it out to you.

“No, so how did this even happen?” He asked, pointing to a very messed-up loop.

“You stuck the hook through the strands of yarn. Just undo that one and try again. It’s tricky to not do that with that kind.” You advised, gently taking his hands in yours and unraveling the previous loop, helping him get back on track. “That’s what’s so nice about crochet. You can just undo it all and start over.”

He smiled, the words striking a bit deeper than he knew you meant to. But that was this whole thing, wasn’t it? You were his fresh start.

Bucky sauntered into the room, grabbing his arm and sticking it back on, rotating it back into place with force. “It just works, alright? It gets clean.”

“Not with the dishes! Run it by itself! Or better yet, buy yourself a dishwasher and put it in your room.”

“Now, now, everybody, I think we all need to take a deep breath.” Alexei said, trying to keep the peace. “Isn’t that nice? Big, deep breath. Ava, I see you are not taking the breath, just breathe in…”

Your phone rang, a goofy picture of Sam flashing across the lockscreen. Your eyebrows furrowed and you picked it up. “Hey, buddy. How have you been? It’s been a while?”

He chuckled, exhaling a sigh. “Yeah, I know it’s been a long time. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch, I’ve just been so busy with…well, all kinds of stuff. But actually, speaking of that, I was wondering if you wanted to come get some coffee? Maybe meet up? I…well, maybe I shouldn’t lead with this, but I’m trying to get the Avengers off of the ground again. I’ve got this great new guy, Joaquin. I think you’d really like him. And we found this guy who has these alien rings, he’s super cool.”

“Sam—” 

“Listen, I know you’ve been out of the loop of all of this for a while. And if you wanna keep it that way, I understand. But my team could really use a healer, so…what do you say?”

You took a breath, pretending to mull it over, but your mind was made up. “Thank you for thinking of me, but…Bucky called me first, and…” You looked at Bob, who was absorbed in his yarn loops again, an earbud stuck in his ear. “They need me here. It’s not personal. I’m sorry. If there’s ever…an emergency, give me a call, but I’m planted here.”

A bitter chuckle. A resigned sigh. “No, I get it. Take care of yourself.”

And then he hung up.

“Who was that?” Bob asked, curious blue eyes peering over at you.

“Sam.” You replied, reaching for his hand, which he gladly turned over, fingers curling around yours.

The worry was imminent on his features already, just a little, in his eyes. Insecurity that you’d slip away as easily as he’d gotten you. “He wants you, huh?”

“I’m staying right here.” You reassured, squeezing his hand again. “I’m not here for Valentina. I’m not even really here for Bucky anymore. I’m here for you. Where you go, I go. Simple as that.”

He smiled softly at that, nodding. “Okay. Cool.”

“Package for Bob?” John walked into the room, chucking the thin little package onto the table in front of the two of you, where it landed with a thwop. “What even is that thing?”

Bob tore it open easily, pulling out what appeared to be a pretty high-quality sleep mask. “Oh, sweet. I was wondering when this would come in.”

“What, you got insomnia or something?” John asked.

“My girlfriend glows,” came his simple explanation, shrugging his shoulders. He had a giddy look on his face. All proud and lovesick in a way that made your heart churn.

You tried to fight the grin that broke out on your features, shaking your head with a flustered laugh.

“I sleep really well now, though. She knocks me right out.”

“Ew, Bob, we don’t need all the details of…whatever this is you two have going on.” John groaned, waving a jealous hand in your direction.

“Oh, shut up, Walker. Bob and (Y/N) are surprisingly tame in the PDA department. They could be like, way worse.” Yelena defended. “And it is very cute by the way, you two.”

“Yelena is right. There is something so…romantic about the boy with the shadow and the girl who glows.” Alexei gushed, very passionate. You’d never seen it that way, but…he wasn’t wrong.

Bob had his Void. Always would, you were sure. And you were the glowing girl. The Beacon, and now…his Starlight.

No matter what form he took, no matter what kind of day he was having, you would always be right there to remind him that there were people who loved him. People who valued him and wanted him around. 

He was the warmth in a cold room. Your Knight of Cups. You’d choose him every time, and you knew in a heartbeat, that he’d choose you, too, like a moth fluttering towards a streetlight. Doomed, maybe, but inevitable nonetheless. In every timeline, it would always be him.

You gave him a tender look, gave his side a loving pinch and settled up against him. A low chuckle floated out of his mouth and he kissed your forehead, large, warm hand smoothing down your back.

The rest of the team devolved into bickering about something else. Like siblings, truly. But you and Bob were just quiet, watching it all from the fringes, soaking in eachother’s warmth.

“I’m so glad you said yes. Still can’t believe this is real, sometimes. That I get to have something as nice as you, but…I’m not complaining.” Bob murmured, hands mapping you out, grounding himself.

“I’m all yours, Bob.” You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, eyes glimmering with a million words, but settling on just two, “Believe it.”

The End.

[postgamevibes]

Part II:

4:25 PM — Locker Room

The chirps started before Jack even stepped inside the locker room.

“Hey, Hughes, how’s it feel to be the internet’s softest boyfriend?” Nico called from across the room, not even looking up from his phone.

Jack froze in the doorway, his face going pale. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Daws waved his phone in Jack’s direction. “Look at this, bro. You’re trending on TikTok and Twitter. #SoftestBoyfriend in the NHL, It’s everywhere.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jack snatched the phone out of Daws’s hand, watching the clip. He cringed as his words played back clear as day.

“She was in my hoodie, hair up, no makeup, and still looked like a damn movie. Like what am I supposed to do? Not fall in love?”

It was framed perfectly a behind-the-scenes shot of Jack skating across the rink, followed by the unexpected confession. It was sweet, it was honest, and it was now plastered across every corner of social media.

“Bro, I told you they were gonna keep it in,” Nico said, snickering.

“Thanks, Nico,” Jack muttered, glaring at his phone as the comments flooded in. “I’m never living this down.”

“Don’t worry, you’re just about to be the NHL’s favorite boyfriend,” Luke called, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he came out of the shower.

Jack scrolled through his mentions, cheeks burning as the comments piled up.

“Anyone else melting or just me?” “Jack Hughes? More like Jack Softies.” “Imagine having a boyfriend who says stuff like this.” “He just called her a movie, I’m in love.” “I want what he’s got.”

Jack dropped the phone with a groan, slumping into his locker. “I swear to God, I’ll never live this down.”

Daws just laughed. “You’ve made it, man, You’re famous.”

Luke popped his head into the locker room, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Just saw the clip on Twitter, you’re adorable, bro. I love it.”

“Please don’t start,” Jack groaned.

“I’m sorry, but ‘hair up, no makeup, still looks like a movie’?” Luke smirked. “This is legendary. You’re soft as hell, and I’m living for it.”

7:18 PM — Team Group Chat

The group chat exploded, of course.

Nico:

Jack just became the internet’s boyfriend 💀

Luke:

Bro, you’re soft as hell, I can’t even.

Daws:

I’m crying, This is what we call content.

Jack:

Can someone delete that video before it’s too late?

Dawson:

Too late bro, it’s everywhere.

Timo:

Bro, I’m sorry, but you’re trending, just embrace it.

Jack:

Everyone shut up. Please.

Dawson:

I’m loving the hashtag #SoftestBoyfriend, though. It’s catchy.

Luke:

100% going to bring this up every time I see you two together now, prepare yourself.

Jack stared at his phone, frustration bubbling under the surface. He was embarrassed, sure but there was also a little part of him that was kind of enjoying the attention. There was something undeniably sweet about the fact that he hadn’t tried to hide how much he cared.

Even if it made him the butt of every locker room joke.

8:10 PM — Your Texts

You’d been quiet all day. Jack wasn’t sure whether you’d seen the clip or not, but he suspected you had. You’d always been supportive of him, but you weren’t one for gushing on social media.

His phone buzzed with a new notification.

You:

Saw the clip. You’re an idiot.

Jack’s heart dropped. He wasn’t sure if you were mad or just amused. He immediately texted back.

Jack:

You saw it, huh?

You:

Only the part where you said I looked like a movie. You’re way too soft.

He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He quickly typed back:

Jack:

I meant it though, you do look like a movie. But now I’m gonna get roasted for it forever, so thanks for that.

You:

You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Don’t worry, I’m not mad  just surprised. I didn’t realize you were that soft. 😘

Jack’s face softened as he read your reply, the tension in his shoulders easing. He couldn’t help but smile.

Jack:

I’m proud of it, honestly. Just wish I didn’t get caught saying it on a mic.

You:

You can’t hide from the internet. Also, I’m not going anywhere no matter how many times the team roasts you.

Jack sat back, staring at his phone. He felt a little stupid, but he couldn’t help it. He was in love with you. And if the entire NHL and now the world knew it, well maybe that was a price worth paying.

Jack:

So, when’s the next date night? I’m still waiting for that playlist you promised me.

You:

I’ll send it over soon. But only if you promise to stop being so adorable.

Jack:

Impossible.

9:45 PM — Home Together

Jack got home later that night, his head still spinning from the constant chirps. The team had kept it up, of course Nico wouldn’t let him forget it. Luke kept sending him memes of “soft boy” Jack Hughes.

But when he stepped through the door and saw you, curled up on the couch in his hoodie, everything melted away.

You looked up and smiled. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, you,” he said softly, dropping his bag by the door and crossing over to sit next to you.

He let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the couch, his head landing in your lap. “I can’t believe I’m that guy now.”

“You are,” you teased, running your fingers through his hair. “But I think it’s cute.”

Jack grinned up at you, his heart swelling. “I meant every word, you know. About you looking like a movie.”

You smirked. “Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything. It’s all in the video.”

You laughed and kissed his forehead. “Yeah, but I’m gonna need a personal reminder later.”

Jack chuckled, the tension finally easing from his body. “I can do that.”

As the evening stretched on, you two simply stayed there. He was the internet’s softest boyfriend and he was okay with that, as long as you were by his side.

After all, who cared what the team thought? He had you.

[eph3merall]

Okay okay hear me out. I soooo badly need a dealer!chris x reader where he gets jealous and/or possessive. It can be smutty if you’d like but I’d think it’s be funny (and hot who said thatttt) to see a reader who doesn’t like parties and she starts talking to some guy, not realizing he’s flirting with her, and Chris is fumingggg (I tried to leave this kinda vague so you could have more creative control, sorry kinda new at the whole tumblr thing too)

anon i love u. i think i maybe wrote something similar to this b4 but i literally dont know

the ice in your cup clinks with each shake of your hand as you laugh at your friends' words. you've abandoned chris for the night to be with your own friends and group of people, and chris had some stuff do with his clients anyways. you'd rather drop dead than sit through more drug deals and boring conversations, so you wandered off to entertain yourself.

the bright, colorful lights are honestly blinding you a little, and you hate the way everything and everyone is so loud. people are yelling and laughing, and the music feels like it's shaking the deepest parts of you inside your body. you have to strain your ears to hear the words people say to you half the time, and the whole party crowd never interested you.

it was always too rowdy, too much. you remember old friends used to coax you to a random house party to try and warm you up to them, only at the end of the night you're found standing anxiously in a corner and said friends are nowhere to be found.

you tolerate these types of environments after meeting the right people and hanging around the right friend group, and after meeting chris it got easier to come to functions like these without groaning or rolling your eyes just at the word 'party'. it doesn't mean you necessarily like them, but it's not like you'd rather burn alive than attend one for the night.

"god, and he was the cutest," your friend is practically gushing, droning on about how her recent hookup was some cute guy interested in photography. he had the "sweetest smile, loudest laugh, and biggest dick ever". you stared blankly at her, because you did not really need to know the last part.

"some things are good to keep to ourselves, y'know?"

"sure.. you just say that cause you dont get dick."

you roll your eyes and punch her arm, feigning offense. really though, a blush creeps up your face and makes you feel hot in the cheeks and all over your body, scorching coals seemingly getting thrown all over you and making you feel burning hot to the touch.

you don't say anything, because you do get dick. just, from the one person she probably wouldn't expect it from.

"okay, sure. you, you know i don't go around... with guys every night like you," what follows is your friends just scoffing and waving her hand at your face.

"oh, please! im not that bad. god, you should see how many men have rochelle hanging off their shoulder in the span of a day."

you don't need to hear it, honestly. rochelle, or, ro, is a frequent buyer from chris as well. you've seen a fair share of her character and personality, and how much cash she carries in her pockets. she's bitchy and rude, but you feel immediately guilty even thinking that way afterwards. using the word 'bitchy' sounds wrong too, she was just.. incredibly confident.

getting pulled from your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder, a cute guy with black curls is grinning at you. your eyebrows raise and confusion overtakes your features, because no one ever really walks up to you like that, no less a guy. if chris isnt scaring them off, there aren't many special, outstanding physical qualities you have.

before you know it, you're roped into a conversation. whether or not you even wanted to talk to this guy in the first place, he didn't give you much of a choice. he insisted on sharing his name, smooth talking his way into your little bubble with a mention of the necklace adorned around your neck, glimmering gently in the lighting.

you don't see your friend eyeing you a little, rolling her eyes around to search out some people to take shots with. and, not long after you start talking, enthusiastic grins are sent the guy's way. you learn that his name is mason, he's studying law and he has great taste in bands and music in general.

you notice the little things immediately, how his hands keep fidgeting, one shoving inside his pocket or scratching at the back of his neck, occasionally running a hand through his long hair—the action subtly reminding you of chris. what you don't notice, is chris eyeing you down like a hawk from across the room. his eyes are peering over the rim of a beer bottle at you, not at you, but at the guy you're talking to.

he knows that social cues aren't exactly your strong suit. it's like if a stranger were to hug you, you would just brush it off and say they were 'being nice'. it's ridiculous, because the guy in front of you was so obviously into you. who wouldn't be? you're a ball of sunshine, sweet and all smiles. hell, he found himself drawn to you the first time he met you. even after repeatedly telling himself he wouldn't be good for you, it was hard to stay away.

your moods were infectious, just like your laughs. sometimes chris doesn't understand why he has the urge to grin at just your giggle. he hates you a little for it, actually.

his fingers tighten around the neck of the glass bottle, rubbing his thumb around the bumps and indents in the glass to try and calm himself down. his jaw was tight, and every loud sound seemed to fade into a calm background hum.

chris knows that going over there wouldn't really be logical. it's not like the guy's doing anything to you worth fighting him for. you two are just talking. you'll lecture him later if he does, all confused and scolding. why'd you do that? are you like, kidding, chris?

he doesn't recognize the surge of possessiveness in him, lighting up his veins and making him feel wound up—like a jack in the box toy ready to burst open. it's not like he had a right to feel this way, because you two weren't anything more than best friends. his eyes scan the two of you up and down, surprisingly finding himself ignoring the bills that are trying to get shoved into his hand.

you're having a good time talking to this guy. mason is nice, and he enjoys the same things you do. he has great arguments, and even better ideas—not afraid to share them with you either. you think he's just being friendly, missing the brief way his eyes looked you up and down for a second and how his fingers twitched to reach out and touch you.

and then he did, a careful graze against your back that had you freezing up, tense. his hand slot behind your back, gentle on your body yet missing the way you seemed uncomfortable.

and, that's when chris was tumbling through people. shoving bodies aside and missing the swears thrown his way, his only goal right now to reach you. make sure you're okay, and then make sure he doesn't ever touch you again, because with the way your body was wound up like a tight coil he was sure you didn't want him to touch you. he felt hot with anger, rage filling him up—practically fuming.

then, chris' knuckles meets the guys face.

—

hai do we like do we hate im trying to write more ( this req was from like. multiple months ago .... )

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis @slut4chris888

©eph3merall 2025

[swightops]

still holding the silence (2) - thunderbolts* (b. reynolds)

summary - you deal with the aftermath of the gala and find an old friend asking for your help. warning(s) - typical thunderbolts warnings (depression, cannon violence, blood, etc.), language a/n - CA 4, thunderbolts, heavy angst as you delve into old avengers stuff, mc is kinda mean at time but hey she's hurting, i promise we'll see our man next chapter LMAO, the plot thickens oooooo

"Sunwraith Salutes New Generation?"

Famously retired Avenger known as Sunwraith made a surprise appearance at the "Meet the Future" gala, and an even more surprising gesture of support. Appearing alongside Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the ex-hero smiled for photos and stood arm-in-arm with the New Avengers leader, prompting speculation that Sunwraith might be quietly endorsing the controversial new team.

Comments:

"Wow, I never thought I'd see Sunwraith at a gala again! This could mean big changes for the New Avengers!" "lol no way Sunwraith actually likes this new team" "The New Avenger literally don't compare to the old ones" "I'm skeptical. Sunwraith was a pure Avenger and she's not a part of this new team?" "I think Sunwraith just wants to support the new heroes. Change is always scary but we need to give them a chance!" "I'm so excited for this new team omgggg"

You groan as you toss the tablet to the side, not wanting to remember anything about last night. Your PR team had already given you an earful about the event earlier today, since your name started trending on social media, and the world wondered whether you truly supported the New Avengers. A buzz distracts your attention from the internet storm as you look down at your phone.

Sam Wilson

[Really?] [Attached: 1 link]

[She set me up] [Bitch]

[You okay?]

[Thinking about it]

Your fingers hover over the keyboard momentarily, deciding if you should send your next text. Fuck it.

[Saw Bucky]

The following minutes drag on as the typing bubbles appear and disappear on the screen.

[Have a mission. Got to go. We'll talk later.]

"Ughhh," you groan, throwing your phone away and dragging your hands down your face. The headline still burns in your head like an unwanted tattoo.

"Sunwraith Salutes New Generation?"

Your head falls back against the couch as you glance around the big, sterile, expensive apartment. It's not home, never quite home. You try to make it feel like home by hanging up pictures of your family, adding little knick-knacks around the place, and adding pops of color to bring life to the apartment, but it doesn't help.

The silence returns, settling over your shoulders like fog.

There never used to be silence, not after the Avengers.

You get up, not because you have anywhere to go, but because sitting still feels like drowning. You wander to your office, where work waits. Stark Relief documents. New Light proposals. A sticky note from Pepper in her neat, decisive handwriting:

"Board meeting resched. Monday. Don't forget to breathe."

You laugh, humorless and low. Breathing feels like the hardest part lately. You sink into your chair and stare at the spreadsheet open on the monitor. Profit margins. Logistics. Some initiative sent over by the GRC.

No one trained you for this. You were trained to throw punches, to induce fear in those whom Hydra told you to, to let the shadows consume all. You weren't trained to run a company. And no matter how many zeroes are in your bank account or how many buildings bear your name (or Tony's), it still doesn't fill the space they left behind.

You push back from the desk, suddenly too restless, too full. You walk to the window and press your hand against the glass. The city blurs beneath you, all movement and meaning, and none of it belonging to you.

You're a statue in a world that keeps moving.

You flex your fingers. That soft golden glow flickers to life—your power, your legacy, but it flickers.

Dims.

And then fades.

Your stomach growls. Glancing at the desk, you know you won't get any work done. Might as well make dinner.

It’s almost muscle memory now—this recipe, this dish. The kitchen smells before you even start chopping. You pull out different ingredients: chicken thighs, onions, paprika (the Hungarian kind Wanda used to swear by), chicken stock, and sour cream. You line them up like puzzle pieces and smile faintly when you catch yourself muttering the steps under your breath.

You chop slower than usual tonight. There's no rush. No alarms. No missions. You sauté the onions in oil until they're golden, then add the chicken and let the kitchen fill with sizzle and scent. The paprika goes in next, painting the pan in warm red, and something in your chest settles.

You aren’t making this for anyone.

You let the dish simmer before setting a plate. Just one. But beside it, without thinking, you place a second and third. You don’t sit right away. You stare at the plates and wonder if you're crazy.

Then again, crazy might be the only thing keeping you human.

You finish the dish with a spoonful of sour cream, stirring gently until the sauce is velvety-soft. You taste it. It's still good, still rich, still theirs.

“Ms. L/N,” a voice says from above you. FRIDAY. “You have a guest.”

You blink. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“It's,” FRIDAY pauses. Although she's AI, a program designed by code, her voice has always been very human and compassionate. "Mr. Barnes is here."

You sigh, dusting imaginary dust from your hands. “Send him up.”

As you stand, you stare at the empty plates, hoping that magically it eases your racing heart. It doesn't.

A soft ding sounds throughout the apartment as the elevator doors open. Footsteps follow—slow, steady, too familiar. Your breath catches in your chest as you turn to look at Bucky. He stands in all black, his coat damp from the drizzle outside. Hair tied back. Eyes unreadable.

“Hey.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. There’s a buzzing in your head.

He shifts, hands still buried deep in his pockets. His eyes shift to the plates on the table. “Were you expecting people?”

You don’t say yes. Just shake your head no. “Why did you come, Bucky?” you ask, folding your arms. “You were perfectly fine with ignoring me before.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s funny,” you snap. 

“I wasn’t ready to talk.”

“Well, I’m not ready either,” you say, stepping back. “So maybe you can go.”

“Wait-” He takes a step forward, and the tension snaps, pulling tight around your chest.

“You don’t get to wait, Bucky,” you say, voice trembling. “You completely ghosted. You let me think that you were done with me. That we don't mean anything to each other anymore."

His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

You scoff bitterly. “No clever line? No excuse? What, no backup from your flashy new team?”

“It's not what you think,” Bucky mutters.

You roll your eyes. "Spare me, Buck."

He sighs, his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lower lip before biting it. “I didn't come here to fight,” Bucky says quietly. “I came because I need your help.”

That makes you laugh, bitter and small. His words sting. It's not about you, it's about what you can do. “Of course you do.”

“I know you met Bob.”

You blink. “What does he have to do with this?”

Bucky steps closer, his hand pulling out a small flash drive from his coat pocket. He places it on the kitchen island before slowly sliding it to you, almost scared that you might run off. "Short story, he can't control his abilities. Powers, memories, it’s all bleeding together. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt someone. And honestly…so am I.”

You close your eyes for a moment. The buzzing intensifies. 

“I don’t know how to help him, and truthfully, there aren't many people I can trust to help him,” he says, and your heart aches. Trust. "He needs someone who understands him in the way the rest of us can't," he pauses. "And...I think you do too...Please, Sunny-"

“Don't,” you say sharply.

He flinches. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” you say again, pointing a finger at him now. “Don’t say it like I’m still her. Like I’m still that version of me. I don’t even know what I’m doing most days, Bucky. I wake up, I read headlines that praise me or, worse, pity me. I go to meetings for a company I don't think I can run. I sit in boardrooms with people who talk about Tony like he was a brand. And then I come home. And I sit. And I wonder if any of it mattered. And then I wonder if I did."

He swallows hard. “You did. You do."

"And then sometimes I wonder...I wonder if we did the right thing...bringing everyone back. That if maybe we didn't, then they would be here. Misreable, but here!" you admit, and it feels good. To finally say the salty thought out loud.

Silence.

Your watery eyes meet with Bucky's, and you then turn away. "Sorry, that was a lot. Um, if you wanna leav-"

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he cuts in. “y/n, believe me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Just...help Bob. Please. If you want me gone after that, I’ll go. I'll make sure none of this "New Avenger" stuff gets near you again."

You don’t say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, you speak, barely audible.

“He’s staying at the Tower?”

“Yeah.”

You nod slowly. “I’ll come tomorrow.”

Bucky exhales through his nose, maybe the closest thing he’s come to relief since he arrived. He moves to leave, and you're letting out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"I know you think you're not who you used to be. But to me, you're still Sunny. You're still you, y/n."

You don’t respond.

The elevator dings and the doors open before they close again, and you’re alone again.

You stand motionless. The air feels different now—thinner, lighter. Bucky took something with him when he left. You're not sure how long you stand there, hands curled into fists at your sides.

You're still Sunny. You're still you, Y/N.

You exhale sharply. A broken sound.

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper to the empty room. Your eyes fall to the flash drive, and your fingers grab hold of it before you can really think. They dig into the sides of it as if it’s the only thing keeping you connected to Bucky. Maybe it is. 

The smell of the paprikash hits you, and you’re reminded of your dinner. Almost robotically, you’re serving yourself, and you sit at your dinner table. Just sit and look at the empty table before you. And then, your fingers dig into the flash drive, and with a flick of your wrist, shadows move from the corners of the room, and your laptop is placed in front of you. 

The blob of shadows straightens out before you, and it just stares at you like it’s trying to get deep into your mind and roll your eyes. Deciding it’s better to ignore “it”, you plug the drive in and immediately files pop up. 

SUBJECT: REYNOLDS, ROBERT. aka “The Sentry”

You scroll. Your eyes flick over O.X.E. logs, therapist reports, and medical scans. O.X.E. It rang a bell in your head. Shit, where did you hear about it?

“Extreme power mismatch. Emotional destabilization suspected. Cognitive dissonance under pressure catalyzes the emergence of what is to be described as “The Void.”

There’s a photo of a lab room. There’s a table in the middle of it, but what draws your attention are the two human-shaped shadows imprinted into the wall. Both with their hands up, almost like they were running from something or someone. Another report catches your eye.

“Patient describes the entity as a shadow of the self. A voice. A second presence. Distinct yet intimately fused. The more power he uses, the more it surfaces.”

You swallow.

Your chest tightens. Not because of what’s on the screen. But because of how familiar it feels. You open a video file.

Bob’s there. He’s in big, oversized scrubs, sitting in a doctor's room on some sort of bed. He’s curled up into him just like that night you two met. “It isn’t always cruel,” Bob says. “Sometimes it sounds like the only one who understands me. Sometimes it sounds like…me.”

A long, thin silence follows.

“He came to you because he sees it in you too.”

You jerk your head up. The voice isn’t real. You know that. But you haven’t heard it in a long time. 

“He sees that brokenness in you. Everyone can.”

“Shut up,” you whisper. Your palms burn faintly, powers curling at the edge of your control. The lights in the apartment flicker for a moment. Just a heartbeat.

You clench your fists tighter. “Shut. Up.”

But the voice only sighs—fond, tired. “Don’t you miss how good it feels?”

You slam your laptop shut. Panic clings to your skin, cold and slippery. You rise too quickly and pace around the kitchen, hands trembling. There’s nothing to fight, but your muscles are coiled like you're bracing for impact.

You grip the edge of the sink.

Breathe in.

Out.

The shadows on the floor move with you. They always do. You’ve tried to pretend you’re in control of them. But some nights, you’re not sure who’s following who.

When you catch your reflection in the microwave door, your eyes glow faintly golden, not bright, but unmistakable. A quiet reminder of what lives under your skin. What lives deep down in your core. What calls to you when no one’s around. 

You avert your gaze. You’ve spent so long keeping it in and keeping in control, and yet, it’s slipping out so easily right now. How could you possibly help Bob when you can’t even help yourself?

Another tired breath escapes you before you sit back down at the table and open your laptop. You read more files, watch more videos, and skim over medical reports before a more recent report catches your eye. 

Subject: “Nightfall” Location: New York Casualties: Proximately 4000 people affected, minor injuries reported, no deaths reported Symptoms: Rapid psychological collapse, extreme hallucination, physical shadow assimilation Origin: Unknown energy pulse originating from R. Reynolds, later confirmed to be "The Void" entity. Field Notes: Victims reported being trapped inside 'memories,' often their worst or most shameful. Reports of time dilation, possession, and an unidentifiable psychic broadcast frequency mimicking grief cycles.

You stop there.

You remember that day. You and Pepper had watched from your tablet screen in France, arguing about whether you should take off for New York to stop the madness. At the time, you didn’t know what had caused it, over just as soon as it began, only that it reminded you too much of your own power when it slips, when it pulls too hard.

You keep reading. 

Post-Incident Recovery: Public story reframed as a biological weapon scare. Following the successful suppression of the Void, Director de Fontaine initiated Phase 2 of the Avenger Initiative Reformation. Results: "The New Avengers."

Your jaw clenches.

That’s what this was. Not a victory. Not some earned rebranding. Just a cover-up. A PR move. They turned a tragedy into a stage.

You exhale sharply and look back at your screen. Unable to stop, you keep reading before another file catches your eye. It’s encrypted. “FRIDAY, unlock this one.”

“Right away, boss.”

PROJECT: SENTRY / Source Documentation Archive Authorization: LEVEL BLACK Link Chain: O.X.E. // Archive Root: (REDACTED) Initiative

You freeze.

There’s no explanation. No subject name. No reference. Just:

—secondary prototype derived from archived data. Subject parallels stable. Cognitive divergence unstable. Full severance from original subject history approved. PROJECT CONTINUED UNDER CODE: SENTRY.

You sit back slowly, like any movement might disturb what you’ve just read. O.X.E., no Valentia Allerga de Fontaine, gave Bob his powers.

They built The Sentry. Created The Void. 

You stare blankly at your reflection in the dark screen. Your golden eyes catch faintly again, just for a second, before fading. Deep inside you, the pit stirs again, quiet and knowing, feeding off your unease. 

Bob Reynolds had a darkness within him. Something that matched the one deep within you. And tomorrow, you were going to see it up close.

[runningincircl3s]

Untitled Bestfriend!Noah x Reader Series

Part 2 (and i gave up thinking of a title)

yeah so i'm going to HELL!!!!! part one is here and you can join the taglist here :)

warnings: NSFW!! porn with little plot- each chapter is basically a oneshot, masturbation (f), fingering, guided masturbation, noah being a meanie, talking about oral (f), uh..?

You hadn’t meant to break down crying over a microwaveable mac and cheese.

But here you were, slumped on the kitchen floor, tears sliding down your cheeks as the timer beeped, and you realised you had left it in too long.

Your head was pounding, your phone was buzzing on the counter with another “can you take an extra shift?” text from work, your group chat still a mess of passive-aggressive messages, and the stress of an upcoming exam clinging to your chest like a weight. 

You wiped your cheeks with the sleeve of Noah’s hoodie, the one he’d let you leave with after that night to cover the hickeys he left on your skin, and now they were gone. And so was he.

You hated when he was away on tour. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, and god, you missed him.

Your fingers reached for your phone on the counter, hesitating over his name in your contacts. It was late. He’d probably just finished a show. He was probably with the band, or even worse- groupies. Either way, you didn’t want to interrupt anything.

But before your mind could spiral any further, your thumb moved on its own.

You: Hey, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the typing bubble to appear.

Noah: Nah, just back in the van. You okay?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, crawling up onto the couch and curling up into a ball.

You: Not really..

Noah: Wanna talk about it?

You didn’t even know where to start. But you tried.

You: Family stuff. My friends are arguing. School’s stressful. Works even worse. I'm so stressed, I feel like I can’t breathe.

There was a pause, long enough that you thought maybe he was busy after all. Then your phone buzzed again.

Noah: I’m so sorry. That’s a lot. I hate being away when I know you're struggling, I wish I could be there to hug you right now.

Your heart clenched, and the tears came faster.

You: I wish you were here.

Noah: Me too. 

Noah: You want me to distract you? Or just want me to listen?

You: Maybe both.

You could almost picture him smiling gently on the other end of the country, shoes kicked off, head resting back against the van window.

Noah: Alright. So first, breathe. Then go get some water. I’ll wait.

You smiled faintly, dragging yourself up from the couch and back into the kitchen, following his instructions. When you came back, your phone was vibrating again.

Noah: Back yet?

You: Yep. Water acquired. 

Noah: Good. Now, honest question… 

Noah: When's the last time you had an orgasm?

Your jaw dropped. You stared at the message in disbelief, and then burst out laughing through the tears.

You: NOAH??

Noah: What? I’m serious! Stress release, babe. Helps me every time!

You: You’re so gross.

Noah: Hey, nothing gross about it at all, it’s scientifically proven!! But seriously. Have you?

Your fingers hovered.

You: I’ve tried a couple times since we… y’know… but it never works. I can never cum like you made me do before.

The typing bubble paused. Then came back.

Noah: Jesus. You can’t say shit like that when I’m in a van full of dudes.

You giggled, nose still stuffy, and wiped your face again.

You: Sorry.

Noah: Don’t be. Just… try again. Think about something that turns you on. Read something horny. Watch something dirty?

You hesitated.

You: I’ll try. But if it doesn’t work, I’m blaming you.

Noah: Deal. And if it doesn’t, I’ll help you when I get back. Promise.

Your heart fluttered, and you felt your cheeks heat up. It was oddly comforting. 

You: I miss you, Noah.

Noah: Miss you too, sweetheart. More than you know.

…

And so you tried.

Every night that week, you’d go to bed, slipping your hand into your underwear, trying to do everything you had found out about online- circles, the alphabet, up and down, side to side, but to no avail. You even thought about him, about the way his cock felt nestled inside you, how his lips had felt against yours, the rasp of his voice against your ear, the heat of his hands, but it just wasn’t the same.

You watched videos, even though most of them were disturbing, it made you feel weird or gross or like you’d clicked on the wrong side of the internet. You tried reading stories, playing scenes over in your mind, even listening to audios and imagining it was him guiding you. Still, nothing. Frustration built and built until you slammed your phone face-down on your mattress and gave up.

Finally, the next day you caved and texted Sophia. She’d always been so open about the topic of sex, self love and pleasure, so you hoped she’d be able to help. 

You: Hey so this is embarrassing. But like… I need some help.

It only took a minute before her response lit up your screen.

Sophia: You’re talking to the right girl. What’s up?

She showed up the next day with a small pink paper bag and a smirk like she was handing over a sacred relic.

“Your knight in shining silicone,” she said, dropping the bag in your lap. “If this doesn’t help then I don’t know what will.”

You waited until the house was asleep that night. Locked your door. Slipped into bed with nervous fingers. The toy was quiet, surprisingly sleek in your palm, if you didn't know what it was you could've mistaken it for a dogs chew toy. You took a breath and let your thoughts drift… And to no surprise you instantly found yourself thinking about Noah.

Noah’s voice, Noah’s hands, Noah’s mouth, Noah's d-

And then, something happened.

Your body trembled slightly, your breath hitched…

Did it happen?

Was that it?

You laid there, staring at your ceiling fan in confusion. You didn't feel like you just came, but your body was too sensitive to continue.

It didn’t exactly feel bad, it just wasn’t good either. You didn’t feel relaxed. You didn’t even feel satisfied. 

You didn’t feel much. 

It wasn’t what it had been with him. There was no delicious build up, no warmth in your chest, no fire lingering in your belly. No laughter after. No soft kisses. No cuddles.

No Noah.

Just you and the silicone.

With a huff, you threw the vibrator across the room- making a mental note to clean it and hide it away tomorrow- and curled up under the sheets, wondering what was wrong with you. 

…

A few days passed. You didn’t bring it up again, to Sophia, to yourself, or to Noah. 

You were embarrassed, you were certain you had done it, that you came, but there was nothing to it?

You wondered if you were broken.

How could Noah make you feel so good, how did he know what your body liked, but you didn’t?

Then, on a quiet Thursday afternoon, your phone lit up with his name.

Noah: Hey, thought you’d like to know I’m home tomorrow night. You around?

Your breath caught. The reply was instant.

You: Yes. Please come over!!!

And so he did.

It was raining when he showed up. He looked tired, his hood up, bag slung over his shoulder, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead. But when you opened the door and he saw you standing there in his hoodie and sleep shorts, his whole face softened.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping inside. “You okay?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t. He saw right through it.

“I brought you a little something,” he said, tugging his hoodie off and pulling a tiny bag from the front pocket of his backpack.

You felt your heart warm, no matter where he was, or how long the tour was, he would always bring you something home. You were always on his mind.

“What is that?”

“A silly little cat plush I bought at a gas station. It reminded me of you.” He tossed it into your hands. “Weirdly cute.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest for the first time in days. 

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You missed me though.” He smirked. 

You didn’t answer, not with words. You threw your arms around him instead, burying your face into his chest. His arms wrapped tight around you in return, one hand pressing to the small of your back like he was trying to hold you together.

“I’m here now,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

“Hey, is that Noah? He’s back already?” You heard your dad call from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, it’s me!” Noah called back, still holding you close. “Sorry, I didn’t want to get in the way of dinner or anything.”

“Nonsense, there’s plenty to go around,” your dad replied, voice trailing off as he returned to whatever he was doing. “You’re always welcome here, son.”

…

Later, after dinner and half a movie you didn’t really pay attention to, you ended up in your room together, something that never felt weird before, but felt a little different now. 

Noah lay stretched out on your bed, his hand resting lazily on your thigh as your head found its place on his chest. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his heartbeat under your ear. You’ve been in this position many times before, when you’ve just needed to feel close, when you’ve been upset or stressed, and he’d run his fingers through your hair and reassure you, telling you everything will be okay.

“You wanna tell me what’s been going on?” He asked quietly.

“Everything’s just been getting too much,” you told him, then you hesitated. “And uh… I tried what we talked about.”

He didn’t need clarification. 

“Did it help?”

You shook your head against him, not looking up so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. 

“It worked. Technically. But it felt… empty, I don’t know to explain it. It’s like my body went through the motions, but I didn’t feel it. I just laid there after, I almost didn’t realise it happened. It didn't feel good, I didn't feel any better after. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Noah tilted his head to look at you. 

“Can I say something without sounding like a dick?”

You rolled your eyes. 

“You always say that before being a dick.”

“Baby, I’m being serious.” His hand slid up your thigh. “Maybe the problem is you’re trying to replace something that isn’t just physical…”

You stiffened slightly but didn’t move away. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He sighed, fingers idly tracing patterns just above your knee. “When you’re with someone you trust, someone who knows you, and who wants you, it’s more than just release. It's a connection... It’s intimacy. All those cheesy things I pretend I don’t care about.”

You let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly. 

“So, what, I can’t enjoy it on my own anymore unless it’s with someone I’m in love with or whatever?”

“No, no not at all,” he said gently. “I just think maybe right now, your brain’s kind of overrun. With stress. With everything. It’s hard to give yourself that pleasure when you’re barely hanging on.”

You swallowed. 

“That makes sense, I guess.”

Noah shifted slightly beneath you, his hand sliding to your waist, grounding you. 

“Also… can I say something without it being weird?”

“That depends.” You raised a brow.

He smiled, eyes soft. 

“Sometimes I think about you too. When I’m… y’know. Doing that.”

“Noah!” Your cheeks flamed. 

“What?” he grinned. “I do. It’s not weird... you’re hot.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re literally the worst.”

“But you’re smiling,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s a win.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you looked up at him, a soft smile on your face.

“Thank you, Noah. You’ve helped me feel better already.” You said quietly.

He looked down at you. 

“I have?”

“Yeah. Just by being here. I feel like I can breathe again.”

Noah’s voice dropped, low and sincere. 

“I hate being away when you’re like this. You know I’d drop everything and come back for you if I could.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding in your chest. 

“I know. That’s why it means so much when you’re here.”

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, Noah leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your temple. Then your cheek.

You turned toward him, breath catching.

Your noses brushed. And then… your lips.

It wasn’t rushed or hungry. It was soft, and intimate.

You kissed him back, your fingers tightening in his shirt, grounding yourself in the feeling you’d been chasing for weeks, what you've waiting to feel since the last time he kissed you.

And suddenly, the world didn’t feel so heavy. Everything that has been bothering you for weeks was suddenly forgotten about. 

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Still feel stressed?”

You shook your head, eyes glassy. 

“No. Not anymore.”

He smiled, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“Good.”

He studied you for a moment, his thumb still ghosting over your lip like he wasn’t ready to stop touching you yet. Like he was memorising the way you looked when you finally started to feel okay again.

Then he spoke, quiet but steady. 

“I can help you, y'know?”

Your breath caught. 

“Help with what?”

“Teach you how to do it,” he said, like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing he’d ever said in your bedroom. “How to make yourself feel good. Really good.”

You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Noah-”

“I know,” he said quickly, his palm still warm against your waist. “It sounds… I don’t know, forward. But only if you want that. I’d never…” he exhaled, like the thought of pushing you too far made him physically sick. “I just know you've been having a hard time with it and I want to help.”

The room was silent except for the low hum of the TV still playing in the background. You stared at him, at your best friend, the one who knew the darkest parts of your life and always stood by you. The one who made you laugh when you never thought you would again. The one who you’d been aching for recently in ways you hadn’t dared to name out loud.

You nodded slowly, your voice barely audible. 

“Okay. Teach me.”

His eyes searched yours like he needed to make absolutely sure. 

“You’re sure?”

“I trust you, you’ve made me feel good before,” you whispered. “I want to feel it again.”

Noah exhaled, something easing in his shoulders. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, soft and reverent. 

“Then lie back for me, sweetheart.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, butterflies in your stomach fluttering with anticipation and a strange, sweet warmth. You sank back onto the pillows as he moved beside you, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Just breathe,” he murmured, his hand brushing your arm. “And listen to me.”

You nodded, taking a breath, your eyes locked on his.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, intimate.

“Yeah," You nodded. "Just… don’t laugh at me.”

“Never,” he said seriously. “Not about this. Not about you.”

You took a breath, shifting a little on the sheets, almost embarrassed to start.

“Here,” he said softly, guiding your hand down over the front of your shorts. “Let me show you…”

Still holding your hand, he gently pulled the waistband down, your shorts sliding lower, followed by your underwear, letting you kick them off. The cool air hit your skin, but you didn’t feel exposed. Not with him looking at you like that, soft and reverent, like you were something sacred.

He brought your hand lower, his long tattooed fingers resting over yours, guiding them between your thighs.

“Right here,” he murmured, pressing lightly. “That’s where it starts.”

You gasped quietly at the sensation, warm and faintly electric, but different. Not quite enough.

He moved your fingers in slow, careful circles, mimicking the motion he would use himself.

“Gentle pressure on your clit, baby. Like this. You don’t have to go fast. Just focus on how it feels.”

You nodded, heart hammering in your chest as you tried to follow his rhythm.

Noah pulled back slightly, letting you move your hand yourself.

“There you go,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on your face. “You’re doing good.”

You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but it still wasn't right. You could feel something… warmth, tension building faintly… but it never built the way it did when he touched you.

You furrowed your brow, frustrated.

He noticed instantly.

“Hey,” he whispered, brushing hair away from your forehead. “Don’t overthink it. That’s the fastest way to kill it.”

“I know,” you breathed, fingers still moving. “It’s just...it's not the same.”

“I know,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re learning.”

You nodded in agreement, and kept trying.

“Think about how it felt when I kissed your neck,” he whispered. “When I pressed you into my mattress. When I made you cum on my cock...”

You moaned quietly, lips parting as you thought back to that feeling. Your fingers moved a little faster now, guided by instinct and the memory of him.

“That’s it,” he said, voice thick. “Let it build. Let it drive you a little crazy. Let it feel good.”

And you tried. You really did.

For exactly 15 minutes.

Noah gave you your space, letting you explore yourself beneath the sheets whilst he put a show on, not wanting you to feel like he was watching in case it put you off.

You followed every step Noah gave you, slow touches, more pressure. You kept your eyes closed, tried to remember the feel of his hands, the way he kissed you last time. You imagined his mouth on your neck, his breath against your skin… but after a few more minutes, nothing was happening. Nothing was building anymore.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your fingers stilling, your shoulders tense.

Noah shifted beside you, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight as he sat back up on one elbow.

“Still nothing?” He asked gently.

You opened your eyes, moving your hand away, blinking up at the ceiling with a hint of defeat.

“I can’t do it.” You shook your head.

“You can. You just haven’t yet.”

“It’s like…” You glanced at him, a little embarrassed. “It’s not even the pressure. It’s not the angle. It’s that… it doesn’t feel good without you.”

His eyes softened, and then something darker lit up within them. Something almost possessive.

“You’re telling me your pussy only listens to me?” He said, almost teasing, but there was hunger in his voice too.

You flushed.

“Apparently... I think I'm just broken.”

He gave you a look that was all fond exasperation. 

“You're not broken, babe.”

You blinked up at him, lips parting to protest, but he stopped you.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Would you like some help?”

Your breath caught. 

“What kind of help?”

“The kind where I use my hands instead of giving a TED Talk from over here.” His smirk was lazy but not unkind. “Only if you want me to.”

You hesitated for a second, before nodding.

“Okay," you whispered, "Yes please."

“Okay." He echoed, his voice softer now. 

He gently tugged the covers down,

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He said softly, and shifted to kneel between them.

His hands brushed over your thighs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours like he was asking for permission one more time.

You gave him a nod, which he returned with a smile before his eyes met your heat.

His fingers brushes against your folds, and you saw how his eyes grew darker when he parted your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered. “She definitely listens to me.”

You felt your face heat up again, and he just smirked, placing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“I’m gonna start slow,” he murmured. “Just here, on your clit.” He pressed his thumb gently against it, just enough pressure to make you twitch. “Feel that?”

You nodded, your breath catching.

“This is where all your nerves gather. That's why it's so sensitive...”

His fingers moved in soft circles, slow and hypnotic.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not,” you breathed. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, clearly pleased. “I’ll stay here a little longer, let you settle into it. Don’t chase anything yet, okay? Just feel it.”

You did. You let yourself melt under his touch, under his voice.

“Now,” he said, lowering his head again just slightly to kiss your thigh, “I’m gonna slide a finger in, just one. I’ll still focus on the outside, but the inside helps build that pressure. That fullness. You trust me?”

You nodded. 

“Always.”

His finger slid in slowly, carefully. The angle was just right, his other hand still moving in slow, patient circles on your clit.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice low. “That little spot inside, just… there…”

 He curled his finger just slightly and you gasped.

“There she is,” he smiled. “That’s your spot, sweetheart. Right there.”

Your hips tilted, chasing the feeling before you even realised it.

Everything was slow. Steady and intimate, like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured. “You feel incredible. I wish you could feel what I feel, how warm you are, how soft.”

You whimpered, your fingers gripping the sheets as his finger curled inside you again. 

“That feel good?” He murmured, watching your face closely.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Good,” he said, voice darker now, heavier. “Now I want you to listen to me. I’m gonna keep my finger inside you, right here-” he said, curling it again to prove his point, and your whole body flinched, “but I want you to play with your clit for me. The way I showed you.”

You hesitated, but his voice dropped even lower, coaxing.

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You reached down slowly, breath catching as your fingers brushed against yourself. You were already soaked, his touch alone had done that.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Feel how wet you are for me? That’s all for us, baby. Now rub it. Gentle circles, just like I did. Not too hard.”

You whimpered as you obeyed, copying his rhythm, your fingers shaky.

“Good girl,” he praised, and the words made your stomach flip. “Just like that. Keep going.”

His finger curled inside you again, slow and deep, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped.

“You feel that?” He growled. “That spot, right there. That’s mine now. You let me have it.”

Your hips bucked, your breath ragged as your fingers moved faster.

“Eyes on me,” he said. “I want to see your face when you come.”

You looked at him, wide-eyed, desperate. 

“I don’t think I can-”

“You can, just stop getting in your head,” he said firmly, leaning over you. “You’re already so close. I can feel it, the way you’re tightening around my finger. Keep rubbing that sweet little clit. Picture me between your legs if it helps.”

You gasped again, your thighs shaking.

“Yeah, that’s it. You like thinking about me eating you out, huh?” His voice was sinfully soft. “Tongue right here,” he dragged his thumb over your clit slowly, “Sucking you till you cry.”

Your breath hitched, and you moved your hand back down/

“I’d spend hours with my face buried between your thighs, baby. Lick you until your legs are shaking... Want you to know how fucking good it feels to fall apart.”

Your fingers sped up, desperation growing, but your rhythm faltered.

“No,” he murmured, catching your hand with his free one. “You don’t stop now. Here..." he guided your fingers back into motion, showing you the right pressure, the right speed, “Just like this.”

You whimpered, everything tightening inside.

“I’ve got you,” he said, curling his finger again. “Come on, sweetheart. I want you to come for me. Right now.”

And you did. It hit like a crash, hot and fast, your whole body seizing up as you moaned his name, thighs clamping around his wrist. He didn’t stop, he helped work you through it, watching you unravel with dark, hungry eyes

When you finally opened your eyes, your vision a little blurry, Noah was watching you like you’d just handed him the stars.

“Hi,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. “You okay?”

You nodded, still breathless. 

“I… yeah. That was….”

He chuckled, settling beside you and pulling the blankets up over both of you. 

“Told you you weren’t broken.”

You curled into his chest, your face buried in his neck. 

“That was amazing, Noah... Thank you."

He smiled against your hair. 

“Glad I could be of service.”

You slapped his chest weakly.

“Shut up.”

He just laughed and kissed the top of your head.

“You ever need a refresher course,” he murmured, “I offer hands-on lessons. Free of charge.”

“Shut up." You chuckled.

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. 

“You gotta admit it… that was hot.”

You groaned into his skin. 

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Y/n, I took your virginity, and you literally just came with my finger inside you. I think we’re past weird.”

You swatted him, and he just kissed the top of your head, smug and soft and so pleased with himself.

"Will you stay tonight?" You asked softly.

"Well, I wasn't exactly planning on going home just yet."

…

It wasn’t until later, after you'd both gone quiet, after the teasing had faded into comfortable silence, that the shift truly settled in. You weren’t tangled in limbs out of habit anymore. You weren’t just cuddling because that’s what you’ve always done.

Noah's fingers were still brushing slow, lazy lines along your spine. Your legs were half-draped over his, your head tucked beneath his chin. He hadn’t let go of your hand once.

There was something new in the quiet. Not tension, exactly. More like awareness.

You were aware of how his skin felt under your fingertips. Of how your body responded to his, even now, just being close. Of how safe, and kind of addictive, it felt to be this near to him.

He shifted a little beneath you and murmured, 

“You still awake?”

You nodded against his chest. 

“You?”

“Barely. But I didn’t wanna sleep without saying something.”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on him again so you could see his face. He looked sleepy and warm and totally, devastatingly fond of you.

“I liked this,” he said. “All of it. Not just what we did. But… this. Us.”

You smiled. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

There was a long pause before either of you spoke again, like the next words needed to mean something.

“I think I wanna do this again,” he said softly, fingers brushing through your hair. “Not just once. Not just to ‘help’ you.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. 

“You mean like… regularly?”

“I mean like whenever we feel like it. Whenever it feels good. Which it does. I think we’re… kinda good at this.”

You laughed quietly, and it melted into a smile. 

“Yeah. Surprisingly.”

He tilted his head, nudging his nose against yours. 

“Still wanna be best friends?”

“Always.”

You always knew there was more to your relationship than just friendship, but it exceeded romance too. You could never imagine actually dating your best friend, because that felt wrong... But somehow this felt just right.

"I want to have to define whatever this is." you said, not wanting to put your friendship at stake.

“I don’t want to either,” he said. “I just want to keep doing what feels good. What feels right.”

You smiled again, a softer one this time, and tilted your face to look up at him.

“So you’re saying we’re gonna keep having insanely good sex and act totally normal about it?”

His lips quirked up, eyes glinting.

“Exactly. Just two best friends. Totally normal. Totally casual.” He kissed your forehead, then grinned wider. “Totally obsessed with how good your pussy feels.”

"Noah!" You shoved at his chest with a breathless laugh.

He caught your wrist mid-shove and pulled you close, chest vibrating with laughter.

"Sorry." He smirked, "C'mon, we better get some sleep, it's pretty late."

You nodded and kissed his cheek before settling back down on his chest, your entire body feeling light and calm and settled for the first time in weeks.

This didn’t feel like a mistake. It didn’t feel wrong, or like you were crossing a line. It felt like opening a door to something that had been waiting there the whole time.

And just when Noah thought you had gone quiet, ready to sleep, you spoke up again. 

“Noah?”

“Hm?”

“...Will you eat me out next time? Just, since you mentioned it earlier… I’ve always wondered if it feels as good as people say… And I’ve heard stories about what you can do with that mouth.” You giggled. 

Noah froze for half a second, then let out a breathless laugh, his chest shaking beneath your cheek.

“You tryna kill me?” he murmured, grinning like he’d just been handed a gift.

You lifted your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, still half-lidded with sleep but already darker again.

“I’m serious.” You whispered, voice warm with want.

He smirked, brushing your hair back from your face. 

“Baby… I’ve been dreaming about that.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it.

“You have?”

“Since the first night I moved into my place, we had a party, we got drunk together and you sat on the kitchen counter in those tiny-ass shorts.” His fingers trailed lazily up your bare thigh. “I wanted to drop to my knees right then and taste you.”

You gasped softly.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice slowing, growing darker with lust, “I’m gonna lay you out on the bed, spread your pretty legs, throw ‘em over my shoulders...”

You swallowed, thighs already tightening.

“I wanna make a mess of you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “Have your thighs all slick, ruin my sheets, have your pretty little pussy swollen and desperate because I won’t stop licking. I want you crying my name, grinding on my face, so, so desperate to cum.”

A soft whimper escaped you, and he smirked, but kissed beneath your ear, hot and slow. 

“And you will cum, baby. Over and over, as much as you want, until you don’t even remember your own name.”

You were panting now, aching, practically squirming against him.

“Noah…”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, eyes locked on yours.

“I’m gonna have you sit on my face, baby. Let you ride it as looong as you want. Rub that sweet cunt all over my tongue. Fuck- I want you to cum so hard-”

You cut him off with a weak shove to his chest. 

“Okay, okay! Enough! Shut up.”

He blinked, then laughed again, smug as hell. 

“Oh? Getting a little worked up?”

“You’re doing it on purpose,” you groaned, cheeks hot. “And it’s mean.”

He grinned, the worst kind of teasing. 

“You started it.”

“I was being honest,” you muttered, wiggling a little closer to him. “You’re the one now turning it into torture.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, kissed your temple again, then infuriatingly let out a content sigh and rolled over.

“Well,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself, “goodnight, y/n.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“What?”

He smirked at the ceiling. 

“You heard me.”

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

He stretched a little, getting cozy. 

“Yup.”

“You’re evil.”

“I know,” he murmured, eyes slipping shut. “Sleep tight.”

You stared at him, equal parts furious and turned on. 

And the worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing. You huffed, flopping back down, facing away from him and pulling the blanket over yourself with a growl.

Noah chuckled quietly and reached over to tug you against his side again.

“C’mon, you’ll survive,” he whispered, mouth against your hair. “Besides… now you’ve got something to dream about.”

You muttered something unintelligible into his shoulder, and he just smiled wider.

Smug bastard.

--------------------------------

yeah so ovulation got the better of me this month

@dominuslunae @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @theasowle @renegadebirch @super-btstrash-posts @skulla-rxcks

[hanniescookie]

i like you, i'm sorry - ljh

pairing - ljh x f!reader

genre - fluff, alternate au

warnings - kissing, fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint but happy ending

summary - jihoon is your classmate and crush since freshman year at music school, but when you get to know what he really thinks about you, you can't help sinking in a heartbreak.

author's note - MY FIRST EVER FIC THAT I'M ONLY A LITTLE PROUD OF??? @jjjjeonww // my love, my wifey, my precious faith, here's my first piece of writing on tumblr for you!! you're the first person who made me feel welcomed on tumblr without even trying, and you know exactly why you're so dear to me, so take this appreciation token and have fun w it 🤍 don't let any XY chromosome dull your spark when uji is here <3

-------------------------**~~**--------------------------

You type away the last bit of your lyrics on your laptop, and then sigh out loud. It's been a hectic day — one that has made you cry. Many assignments were piled up that you barely got done at the last minute, and if that frustration wasn't enough, you were belittled by your very own crush.

Lee Jihoon.

The guy you've liked since freshman year. It never helped that he was never mean to you so like the simple girl you were, you always glorified the bare minimum he provided you with.

If he sat beside you in class because there was no other seat available, you'd take it as a sign. How dumb.

He never really shattered these delusions of yours anyway. He took the ice cream you gave him as an excuse just to speak to him. He answered all your questions about the lessons that you had understood well enough and taught you a little bit of piano too when you asked. He even texted first so many times and responded to your texts really well.

So you had no reason not to feed in your bubble of delusion. Well, not until today.

It was a routine music theory class early in the morning when he sat beside you. You felt butterflies flutter in your belly the longer you stared at him (you tried not to). You were determined to try and talk a little more to him today — at least more than the hi, good morning, how was your day, is this seat available kinda stuff.

However, right after class ended, some of your classmates surrounded him, asking him questions about the lesson. It was a known fact that Jihoon was a genius, and was always praised by the teachers. It felt like he was born to make music. Hence, often times, like today, people came up to him for help.

He wasn't entirely pleased with being cornered like that, but he was still kind enough to help. You sat in your place, watching and listening as the conversations slowly shifted from one topic to another. Jihoon's focus was on the many people in front of him, and his back was facing you now. That should have made you feel ignored, or at least insulted, but it didn't. Not at that time. You were busy listening to his voice as he talked to everyone.

Then those words left his mouth — the ones that have now bled in your lyrics, the ones that made you cry and the ones that made you resent him.

"What do you think about Y/N?"

Somebody had asked him — you can't recall who it was, but definitely one of the girls who never seemed to like you.

Jihoon's response had come with a little laugh — like he was joking. "Oh, she's just an annoying classmate."

You didn't wait to notice if he'd notice you leaving after that. You just left, carrying your bag over your shoulder as tears pricked your otherwise soft eyes.

And now here you are, four hours later, sitting in an empty classroom and staring at the lyrics you penned out of your heartbreak. Well, this will pass too, you tell yourself, pressing save on your document.

"Why are you sorry for liking someone?"

You yelp when you hear a voice directly behind you, turning your head instantly to see Jihoon bent over your shoulder. He stands back with a little smile, pointing towards your screen with his chin. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. The words looked interesting."

Baffled, you turn back to see your now saved document still displayed on the screen. The bold title says, "I like you, I'm sorry."

Your face feels warm suddenly, and the tears you had successfully hidden threaten to come out. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your composure when he sits beside you. "You can't just peek in my work. It can be personal."

He looks at you, a little alarmed at your tone — something he's not used to hearing. His expression turns only a little concerned, almost guilty. You can't catch the emotion exactly. "Is everything alright?"

You try not to, but you snap anyway. "Yeah, no. Nothing is quite alright. You don't get to call me just an annoying classmate and then sit here looking all concerned like I mean something to you."

You watch a flicker of uncertainty cross his features, and he looks surprised if you can gauge correctly. For several seconds, he tries to find words and you wait — really wait like you always have. Maybe it's because you're frustrated, but your patience runs out.

You shut your laptop, and stuff it in your bag, preparing to leave. If leaving is what you do best, so be it.

But Jihoon decides he doesn't want to watch you leave. At least not before he even tries his luck. His fingers close around your wrist, pulling you to sit back beside him. You land a little too close to his face, your knee brushing against his.

It's the closest you've ever been to him, and even though you're genuinely very hurt, your heart betrays you. It beats faster, finding comfort in his beautiful eyes that you fell for.

"Y/N," he speaks, soft and slow, and you feel like melting on the spot. He continues, "I didn't mean it."

"Huh?"

He breathes, closing his eyes for a second before looking back in your confused ones. "I didn't mean what I said. It was just– oh god, I'm stupid. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to say that."

You wait for him to finish explaining, but he's quiet again, just looking at you through his lashes as if he's confused himself. He shakes his head a little, sighing, before he speaks again.

This time, it's a question. "Do I mean something to you?"

Your breath hitches a little, tongue darting out to swipe across your dry lips in nervousness. Any hurt you'd felt in the morning flies out of the window, and you can only focus on Jihoon and his soft voice, asking you a question so intimate.

You can't help it — your head nods itself once, and you're so glad it does because the way Jihoon smiles is priceless. You'd do anything to keep seeing the sight.

"I'm honoured," he says, smile softening. "And so very guilty for hurting you. I always assumed you probably find me annoying because I deliberately come late just to sit beside you, and I text you and I'm always looking at you. I kind of projected my problem on you. I thought that saying that would make me believe it and you'll hate me anyway."

You stare at him in complete disbelief, blinking owlishly for longer than you should. He's starting to chuckle at his own absurdity. "I didn't know how to deal with how much I like you. I also didn't know you felt the same."

You swallow, feeling warmth flood your face the longer you look at him. Slowly, you move a little away, your eyes traveling back to the desk in an attempt to not be any more flustered. Your heart runs a marathon and you genuinely don't know how to wrap your senses around your current situation.

"Jihoon I—" you begin to speak, but he holds your hand softly, smiling. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

If the sky were to fall on you right now, you'd gladly be buried underneath with a smile on your face. Your lips tilt up, curling into the smile that Jihoon absolutely adores.

And you nod again, this time with more firmness than before. His smile widens, but only enough to keep it soft. His eyes flicker to your lips for a second before he asks, "Can I kiss you then?"

This time, you don't nod. You're way too flustered to do that. You simply lean forward, and capture his lips in a sweet kiss.

Just like that, an empty document in your laptop awaits your new lyrics about your newfound experience — one that's too surreal to feel real.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

That’s My Seat.

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Karina as the cheerleader captain who stole your usual spot at your go to cafe.

Word Count: 1,993

Karina X Male Reader

You enter the usual café you always hit before your games—it’s like a ritual now. Spanish latte, extra syrup, non-fat milk. That drink’s practically your lucky charm at this point. The moment you walk in, the familiar scent of roasted beans and vanilla syrup hits you, calming your nerves like clockwork.

Jihoon, the barista, spots you and waves. “Yo, wassup MVP? Saw your game last week—you were on fire. The usual, eh?”

“Yeah,” you reply, slinging your duffel bag off your shoulder. “Extra syrup and non-fat milk.”

“Gotcha!”

You nod and walk toward your seat. Your spot. The one by the window, where the sun warms the table just right and you can zone out watching cars go by. But then—you freeze.

Someone’s there.

A girl, hoodie pulled halfway over her head, but the edge of her cheerleading skirt peeks out underneath. She’s from your school. You know it immediately.

You step up to the table.

“Hey. That’s my seat.”

She doesn’t look up. “I don’t see your name on it, though.”

“That’s beside the point. Can you move?”

“No. I’m not moving.”

You pause. Then shrug. “Then don’t.”

You sit across from her instead, dropping your bag to the side. She glances up at you now—takes in your face, your build. Probably recognizing you.

“Ugh,” she mutters. “You’re really persistent, huh?”

“Like I said—it’s my seat.”

You take a sip of your coffee as Jihoon places it down with a smirk and walks off.

“Suit yourself then.”

The tension lingers, a quiet static between you both. She tries to focus on her phone but keeps glancing up, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Staring much?” you say without looking up from your own screen.

“Shut up.” No denial.

“You play for the school?” she asks after a beat.

“Yeah. And I’m guessing you lead the cheer squad?”

She smirks. “How’d you guess?”

You nod at the edge of her hoodie. “I can see the color under your hoodie.”

She rolls her eyes—but there’s the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t shift in her seat. “So what, you just sit here every day like some kind of turf owner?”

You lean back in your chair, sipping your latte. “Pretty much. Before every game. Helps me focus.”

“Right. Because coffee and window views are the key to winning.”

“Hey, it works. We’re undefeated this season, aren’t we?”

She snorts lightly, not disagreeing. “Maybe I should start sitting here more often then. Might rub off on me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You planning to steal my seat and my luck now?”

She grins, playful but with an edge. “You don’t strike me as the superstitious type.”

“I’m not. But some routines are just… comforting.” You glance out the window, the late sun brushing your jawline. “This spot’s been mine since freshman year.”

That quiets her a bit. Not out of guilt—more like curiosity.

“So you’ve been here longer than me,” she says. “Big deal. Doesn’t mean you own it.”

“Didn’t say I did. Just didn’t expect to see someone sitting in my space.”

There’s a moment of silence. Not awkward now—just settled. The kind that happens when two people are trying to figure each other out.

She looks up at you again. This time, really looks.

“You know… I heard stuff. About you.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance back, amused. “What kind of stuff?”

“That you’re cocky. Quiet. Some kind of golden boy with a chip on his shoulder.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head. “That all?”

“That’s just the short version.”

You lean forward slightly, elbows on the table. “And you? Cheer captain with no real experience but all the right connections. Is that true?”

She freezes for a second. Just long enough for you to catch it.

Then she smirks. “Touché.

Jihoon calls out another order behind the bar. The café starts to fill with soft chatter and clinking mugs, but your little table? It feels like a bubble.

“You gonna keep sitting here?” you ask, breaking the quiet again.

“Maybe. Depends.”

“On what?”

She locks eyes with you.

“Whether you give me a reason not to.”

You left the café after that, latte in hand, heart a little more alert than usual. Something about her lingered in your mind—but you shook it off. Game time.

The gym buzzed with energy when you stepped in. Warm-up drills, squeaks of sneakers on the polished floor, the echo of bouncing balls. But your eyes scanned the crowd—and found her.

She was off to the side with her squad, trying to rally them into formation. Some weren’t listening, too busy gossiping or adjusting their uniforms. She looked frustrated, arms crossed, lips tight. No one respected her command yet. It was clear.

You strapped up, tightened your laces, and by tip-off, you were in the zone.

Fast breaks. Clean steals. Stepbacks that sliced through air and snapped the net. You were on fire.

But even in that focused blaze, you’d glance her way—between plays, on the bench, while catching your breath.

She wasn’t cheering much. More like watching. Eyes tracking you. Maybe with judgment. Maybe not. But she was definitely watching.

And somehow, you didn’t mind.

You didn’t like her. Not like that.

But something about her pulled at your head when it should’ve been in the game. That look. That smug confidence at the café. The way she stared like she was trying to read your thoughts.

It gave you something—fuel. Euphoria in the oddest way. A strange thrill you couldn’t name.

Final buzzer. You won. Crowd roared. Teammates slapped your back, coaches smiled.

But all you did was scan the bleachers.

She was gone.

You walked home alone that night. No noise in your ears, no music in your head. Just the quiet crunch of gravel under your shoes and a thought running circles in your brain.

What was her name, anyway?

It’s been a few days since the game. Since her.

You walked into the café like usual. Same time, same mood, same order.

Jihoon’s already halfway through prepping it when he sees you. “Extra syrup, non-fat milk?”

You nod. “You know it.”

But this time, you don’t rush to the window seat. You glance first.

And yeah—she’s there.

Same hoodie. Same skirt peeking out. But this time, she’s early. She’s sipping something with her lips barely touching the straw, eyes flicking toward the door the second the bell rang.

She was waiting.

You walk over, drop your bag beside the table, and slide into the seat across from her like it’s always been yours.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you over the rim of her drink. Her voice is calm, but that little smirk’s still there.

“You won.”

“You were watching?”

“Hard not to.” She leans forward a bit, resting her chin on her hand. “You were… decent.”

You scoff. “Decent? I dropped twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight and still humble. Impressive.”

Jihoon places your drink down. You nod a thanks and take a sip. The sweetness hits the back of your throat like it always does—only now it’s laced with something else. This unspoken… buzz.

She eyes you, then speaks softer this time. “You looked focused. Like, really focused.”

“That’s the whole point of this spot,” you say. “It locks me in.”

“Maybe I should stop sitting here then. Don’t want to break the magic.”

You glance at her, eyes narrowing a little. “Who says you’re breaking it?”

That makes her pause.

“You’re not as much of a jerk as I thought,” she finally says.

“You’re not as annoying as I expected.”

She smiles at that—just barely.

The silence that follows isn’t heavy anymore. It’s charged. Curious. Two people slowly peeling away each other’s edges without even realizing it.

She stirs her drink, avoiding your eyes now.

“I’m Karina, by the way.”

You blink. “Finally. I was gonna start calling you Hoodie Girl.”

She laughs, real and quick. “That’s so lame.”

You lean back in your chair. “Still would’ve fit you.”

[sipthegossip-if]

THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S SKIN. Arlo Kent is warm, lively, bright, cheery, bubbly. Every other word in the dictionary that would make anyone in their presence feel comfortable, maybe even safe. Because they ask the right questions at the right time, laugh in a way that makes you feel relaxed. The sort of person who remembers your pet's name, your favourite drink and the off-hand comment you made some six months ago at lunch.

To the crew, they are background noise. To the rest of the world, they don't exist. To you? Arlo doesn't know what they are to you. Yet. But they know what they want to be. And they know what you are to them.

Arlo likes to think of you like this parasite that lives under their skin and feeds off them. The only difference is that this host likes it. Isn't the highest form of love just complete devotion? There's a sick of kind of pleasure in willingly submitting themself to you. Yes, you breathe in my veins. Yes, I will gladly cut myself open if you were to ask. Would you stitch me back up, baby? Yes, i would bleed on the bathroom tiles for you because how I could I not? You asked. You.

You. You. You. You.

How do you do this?

You will grow out of it, most people say but you see, Arlo is not the type of person who ever grows out of things. They still order the same ice cream flavour they did when they were nine, even though their friends think it's basic. Because Arlo Kent never learned to fall out of love like that.

*ROMANCING ARLO KENT : Arlo believes that their hands have no other purpose than to hold yours against them. There are 206 bones in the human body and all of Arlo's crave the feeling of your frame against them. 365 days and not a day goes by where you don't invade their thoughts. You are Arlo's only home. Is that bad? Arlo hopes you don't find that pathetic.

All Arlo desperately, tremendously, murderously, wants is you. Is that too much to ask for? There is just so much of you living inside Arlo without their permission. Why won't you let them in too? You know. To make it equal.

Arlo doesn't believe in a God but they pray for you anyway. Every night before they go to bed, they hope there will come a morning where they will not wake up alone but with the feeling for your warm body beside them.

But it's alright. It really is. Arlo will take their time. Not because they are patient, but because they are certain.

You two are inevitable. Arlo will take as long as you need. The sea kisses the shore until it forgets what it was like to exist without them. Until the jagged edges soften.

Until surrender feels like choice.

Because when you will have nobody, you will come to no one but them. Arlo will make sure your eyes begin searching for theirs, when they aren't around. You will begin to laugh more when they are near. You will start calling it fate, as if it was some divine intervention and they didn't weave the threads of fate themself. But despite that, they will not correct you.

Arlo will never not chase you. In every universe they will find you. Over and over and over and over— until there is no version of you that doesn't love them back.

PERSONALITY : Arlo is an amicable person. The kind that always pssts at a cat, that passes by, feeds the strays in their area and helps an elderly woman cross the street. They are helpful, thoughtful, observant, endlessly polite and a great listener. Has a huge friend group. Chatty and loves social media.

APPEARANCE : m!short dyed blonde hair in surfer waves. f!medium dyed blonde hair with curtain bangs. They have a fake tan. m!5'6. f!5'3. Likes to dress casually, stuff like a white tee and sweatpants but has no qualms dressing up for you.

*romance progresses slightly differently for naive and skeptical mcs.