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amyzworldds · 23 days ago

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Title: Unseen Version

Masterlist

For a decade, Seventeen’s Y/N has been the bubbly maknae, but her 10th anniversary solo track “Unseen” reveals a deeper, raw side, yearning to break free from her playful persona. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Angst, fluff WC: 3.2k

Ten years had flown by for Seventeen, a whirlwind of stages, tours, and memories etched into their 10th anniversary album preparations. The group buzzed with excitement, each member pouring their heart into a full album featuring solo tracks—a milestone to celebrate their journey. Y/N, now 25, had grown into a more mature version of herself—or so she insisted, despite still pranking her members and dragging Dino into her chaos. Her trinket obsession remained, her bag jangling like a wind chime, and her bunny slippers still squeaked through the studio. Yet, beneath her playful exterior, a quiet shift was brewing.

The dorm days were long gone—replaced by sleek apartments, each member carving out their own space. Y/N’s place was a shrine to her past: pink decor, trinket-covered bags, and a fridge stocked with gummies. But the media and fans still saw her as the “past Y/N”—the mischievous maknae, forever childish, forever energetic. She loved her role as Carats’ mood-lifter, but with the 10th anniversary looming, she craved something new—a chance to show a side of herself the world hadn’t seen.

Today, Y/N sat in a meeting with Woozi and the producers, discussing her solo track for the album. The room hummed with ideas—playful melodies, upbeat tempos, lyrics dripping with her signature quirky charm. “We’re thinking a fun, colorful vibe,” one producer said, flipping through notes. “Something that screams Y/N—energetic, maybe a dance track with cute hooks.”

Y/N nodded, her smile polite but strained, fingers twisting a glittery keychain under the table. Woozi, across from her, caught the flicker in her eyes—a hesitation she didn’t voice. He tilted his head, studying her, but didn’t push. “Sounds good,” she said softly, though her heart wasn’t in it. For ten years, she’d delivered bubbly anthems, and while she adored them, they felt like a costume she’d outgrown.

After the meeting, Woozi caught her in the hallway, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N-ie, you hungry? Wanna hit that new café outside? My treat.”

Her face lit up, trinkets jangling as she bounced on her toes. “Ooh, yes! I heard they have glittery lattes—let’s go!”

They strolled to the café, a cozy spot with pastel walls and fairy lights. Y/N ordered a sparkly matcha latte, Woozi a plain black coffee, and they settled at a corner table. She was quieter than usual, scrolling her phone, her usual chatter replaced by a pensive frown. Woozi sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim. “You okay, kid? You’re weirdly silent—not planning to sticker my studio, are you?”

Y/N puffed her cheeks, setting her phone down with a dramatic sigh. “I’m fine, oppa… mostly.” She poked at her latte foam, then blurted, “It’s the solo track. I love their ideas—really, I do! But… it’s the same. Playful, energetic, ‘cute Y/N.’ I’ve been doing that for ten years, and I’m tired of it. People still see me as the kid I was at 15, and I’m 25 now—an adult! I want something new.”

Woozi chuckled, leaning back. “An adult? You? The girl with a glittery bunny backpack?”

“Rude!” she huffed, rolling her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m serious, oppa. Don’t get me wrong—I love cheering up Carats, making them smile. But I’m not just that. I want to rebrand, show a different side. Something… real.”

He sobered, nodding slowly. “I hear you. You want to grow up in their eyes—show you’re more than the chaos gremlin. I’ll talk to the producers, see what we can do for your solo. Maybe something deeper, raw.”

Her eyes sparkled, relief washing over her. “Really? You’d do that? Oppa, you’re the best!” She rummaged in her trinket-laden bag, pulling out a glittery pink notebook that screamed “Y/N.” “Hold on—I’ve got ideas!”

Woozi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What’s that? Your secret diary? Is this your ‘mature’ side?”

“Shut up!” she pouted, flipping it open with a flourish. “It’s my lyric book—been writing for years. You guys never asked, so I kept it secret.”

His jaw dropped as she revealed pages of handwritten lyrics—some scrawled in glitter pen, others in smudged ink. “You write lyrics? Since when? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you all wanted me to do cheerful stuff!” she said, half-laughing, half-sad. “Look at this one—it’s different.” She slid the notebook over, pointing to a page titled “Shadows of Me.” The lyrics were raw, heavy—verses about feeling trapped by her past self, the weight of being seen as “just” the bubbly maknae, the quiet struggles no one noticed. Lines spoke of rough paths, self-doubt, and yearning to be understood as a whole person, not a caricature.

Woozi read in stunned silence, his coffee forgotten. The words were beautiful, poignant, cutting deeper than he’d expected. “Y/N… this is good. Really good.” His voice softened, eyes tracing her handwriting. “You’ve been feeling this way all along? For ten years, and we didn’t know?”

She shrugged, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “I’m good at hiding it. I love being the happy one, but… sometimes I’m not. I just want people to see me—the real me.”

He leaned forward, shock giving way to awe. Her lyrics peeled back a layer he’d never glimpsed, revealing a Y/N who’d grown quietly, carrying burdens behind her glittery facade. For ten years, they’d missed this—her depth, her heart, her unspoken truths.

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The café conversation lingered in Woozi’s mind, Y/N’s glittery notebook a quiet revelation. As they parted ways that day, she’d pressed it into his hands, her eyes earnest but nervous. “Oppa, read it all,” she said, trinkets jangling as she adjusted her bag. “Maybe you’ll find something for my solo track. I trust you.”

Woozi nodded, tucking the notebook under his arm. “I’ll look through it, Y/N-ie. No promises, but… I’m curious.” Her shy smile stuck with him, a glimpse of a Y/N he hadn’t fully seen before—not the chaos gremlin, but a woman wrestling with her own identity.

In his studio that night, Woozi flipped through the notebook under the glow of his desk lamp, its pages a mosaic of glitter ink and raw emotion. Lyrics spilled across them—some hopeful, some aching, all deeply personal. Songs about feeling caged by her “bubbly” image, about nights spent doubting herself, about wanting to be seen as more than a smile. One line hit hard: “I’m more than the laughter, more than the spark—I’m a shadow that’s learning to shine in the dark.” “Damn, Y/N,” he muttered, awestruck. “How’d you hide this?”

He called Bumzu the next day, notebook in hand. “You gotta see this—Y/N’s been writing lyrics. They’re… something else.” In the studio, Bumzu skimmed the pages, his jaw dropping. “She wrote this? Our Y/N? The trinket tornado?” He laughed, shaking his head. “This is a secret talent—she’s got a poet’s soul. We’ve been sleeping on her all this time!”

“Right?” Woozi said, tapping a page. “Her solo needs to be one of these—something real, not another candy-coated bop. She’s ready to show a new side.”

They zeroed in on a track Y/N had titled “Unseen”—a soft, haunting melody she’d scribbled chords for, its lyrics weaving her feelings of being trapped by expectations and yearning to reveal her true self. “This one,” Woozi said, circling it. “It’s her heart on paper. Let’s make it hers.”

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Y/N joined them in the studio the next week, her usual bounce subdued as she clutched a glittery pen, nervous but eager. “You really liked it?” she asked, eyeing the notebook on Woozi’s desk. “It’s not… too different?”

“It’s perfect,” Bumzu said, grinning. “You’ve got a gift, Y/N-ie. This song’s gonna hit hard—trust us.”

“Yeah, kid,” Woozi added, tweaking the soundboard. “It’s you—raw, real. Let’s record it.”

The process was intense but intimate. Y/N poured her soul into the booth, her voice soft yet steady, carrying the weight of “Unseen.” The melody was gentle, a piano-driven ballad with strings that swelled like a heartbeat, a far cry from her usual upbeat anthems. Lines like “I’m not just the light you see, there’s a storm inside of me” flowed with quiet power, each note a step toward shedding her old skin. Woozi and Bumzu exchanged glances, floored by her depth, her trinkets glinting under the studio lights like a reminder of the Y/N they knew—and the one they were meeting now.

After the final take, Y/N stepped out, breathless, “Was that okay? I didn’t mess it up, did I?”

“Mess it up?” Woozi laughed, pulling off his headphones. “You killed it. This is your best work yet—Carats won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Bumzu nodded, clapping. “It’s beautiful, Y/N. You should be proud.”

She smiled, small but genuine, clutching her notebook like a lifeline. “Thanks, oppa. It feels… right. Like I’m finally saying what I’ve wanted to.”

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After Bumzu left, Woozi lingered, motioning Y/N to sit on the studio couch. She plopped down, her bag jangling, and he leaned forward, his usual teasing edge replaced by sincerity. “Listen, Y/N-ie. I read every word in that notebook, and… I’m sorry we didn’t see this side of you sooner. You don’t have to pretend to be the ‘happy maknae’ if it’s not you—not with us, not with Carats.”

Her eyes widened, fingers twisting her keychain. “But… what if they don’t like the real me? What if they want the old Y/N—the one who’s always smiling?”

“Then they’re not real fans,” he said firmly, meeting her gaze. “The ones who matter will love you for you—storms and all. And if anyone hates it? Screw ‘em. You’ve got thirteen brothers who’ll stand by you, no judgment. We’ve got your back, always.”

Her lip trembled, and she looked away, blinking fast. “You mean it? Even if I’m not… fun all the time?”

“Especially then,” he said, softening. “You’re not just our chaos queen—you’re Y/N. The one who writes lyrics that hit like a truck, who drags Dino into pranks, who makes us laugh and keeps us grounded. You don’t have to hide any of it.”

She sniffled, a shaky laugh escaping. “You’re gonna make me cry, oppa. Stop being so nice—it’s weird!”

“Deal with it,” he teased, tossing her a tissue. “Now go rest—you’ve got a masterpiece to share with the others soon. They’re gonna lose it when they hear ‘Unseen.’”

She grinned, hugging her notebook, the weight of ten years lifting slightly. “Thanks, Woozi oppa. I’m… ready for this. I think.”

“You are,” he said, smiling. “And we’re with you—glittery notebook and all.”

The other members hadn’t heard “Unseen” yet, but Y/N’s solo was shaping into something transformative—a mirror of her heart, a bold step for their 10th anniversary. Woozi, carrying her notebook’s secrets, felt a new respect for her, knowing her lyrics had unveiled a truth they’d overlooked. Y/N was ready to redefine herself, and the world would soon meet the real her—shadows, storms, and all.

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With Seventeen’s 10th anniversary album nearing release, the studio was a hive of anticipation, but Y/N carried a quiet weight no one else saw. She felt the pressure of a decade in the spotlight, her role as the youngest—and only girl—pushing her to match the group’s relentless energy. Lately, though, she felt like a stranger in her own skin, as if her bubbly persona was a mask she’d worn too long. Was it exhaustion from the industry’s demands? Fear of showing her darker side? Or was she simply outgrowing the Y/N everyone expected? She hid her unease behind smiles, but the doubt gnawed at her—especially as her solo track, “Unseen,” loomed.

Tonight, the group crammed into Woozi’s studio for a listening session, their laughter bouncing off the walls as they prepared to hear each member’s solo track. The footage would go up on their YouTube channel post-release. Couches were packed, snacks littered the table, and Dino sprawled on the floor, tossing gummy worms at Hoshi. Y/N sat tucked between Seungcheol and Minghao, her trinket-laden bag at her feet, forcing a grin as the chaos unfolded.

One by one, they played the solos, heads bobbing to the beats. Seungcheol’s “Jungle” roared with fierce determination, earning cheers and Mingyu’s dramatic, “Hyung, you’re a beast!” Wonwoo’s “99.9” was introspective, its smooth flow prompting Vernon to nod, “That’s my vibe—deep, man.” Mingyu’s “Shake It Off” had everyone dancing in their seats, Hoshi yelling, “Puppy, you’re stealing my spotlight!” Vernon’s “Shining Star” brought soft smiles, Joshua teasing, “So you’re a romantic now, huh?”

Dino’s “Trigger” followed, a high-energy banger that had Seungkwan hyping, “Maknae energy! You snapped, Dino-yah!” As it ended, Woozi leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye, pausing before the next track—Y/N’s. The group hadn’t heard it; she and Woozi had kept it a secret, wanting to surprise them. “Alright, guess time,” Woozi said, smirking. “What’s Y/N’s solo gonna be? Genre, vibe—go.”

Hoshi grinned, leaning back. “Easy—bubblegum pop! Something hyper, with glittery beats!”

“Yeah, like a cheerleader anthem!” Mingyu added, mimicking a dance. “Y/N’s always got that happy energy!”

Seungkwan nodded. “Gotta be fun—maybe a cute rap part, like her old tracks!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, slumping into the couch, her heart sinking. “Wow, so predictable, huh?” she muttered, half-joking, but the words stung. They saw her as the same old Y/N—cheerful, chaotic, unchanging.

Woozi laughed, shaking his head. “You’re all so wrong. Ready for a shock?” He glanced at Y/N, who gave a small nod, her fingers twisting a trinket nervously. “This is ‘Unseen’—let’s go.”

Hoshi leaned forward, joking, “What, is it sexy? Bold? Mature? Spill, Jihoon-ah!”

“Just listen,” Woozi said, hitting play.

The room fell silent as a soft piano melody unfurled, delicate yet heavy, strings weaving in like a quiet ache. Y/N’s voice followed—raw, vulnerable, unlike her usual bright tone. “I’m not just the light you see, there’s a storm inside of me…” The lyrics poured out, painting her struggle—feeling trapped by her “happy” image, yearning to be seen as human, flawed, real. “I’m more than the laughter, more than the spark—I’m a shadow that’s learning to shine in the dark.”

The members’ smiles faded, brows furrowing as they leaned in, eyes flicking to Y/N. She stared at her lap, heart pounding, afraid to meet their gazes. The song swelled, her voice breaking on “Ten years of smiles, but who sees my tears?” and the studio felt like it held its breath. When the final note faded, a heavy silence hung, the kind that pressed on your chest.

Seungcheol broke it, voice soft, “Oh, Y/N-ie… that’s different, huh?” He leaned forward, eyes searching hers, a mix of awe and sadness.

“Who wrote this?” Vernon asked, his usual teasing gone, replaced by quiet intensity.

Woozi pointed at Y/N, a proud smile tugging his lips. “She did. Every word, every note—her heart.”

The room erupted—not in chaos, but in a rush of stunned admiration. “You wrote that?!” Mingyu gaped, scooting closer. “Y/N, that’s… insane. It’s beautiful.”

“I’m shook,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “It’s so raw—like, you’re letting us in. I love it.”

Hoshi, usually loud, was quiet, eyes glistening. “I didn’t know you felt like that, Y/N-ie. It’s… it hurts, but it’s amazing.”

Y/N’s lip trembled, her hands gripping her trinkets to steady herself. “I was scared you wouldn’t like it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “It’s not fun or happy—it’s… me. The parts I hide. I thought… maybe you’d want the old Y/N.” Tears spilled over, and she swiped at them, embarrassed.

Seungcheol slid closer, pulling her into a side hug. “Kid, we love it. And we love you—every part, happy or not. You don’t have to hide this from us.”

“Yeah,” Joshua added, voice gentle. “You’re our sister—bubbly, sad, whatever. We’re here for all of it. This song? It’s you, and it’s perfect.”

Dino, eyes wide, leaned over. “I’ve seen you cry, but this… it’s different. You’ve been carrying this alone? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” she admitted, tears flowing freely now. “As the only girl, I got so much hate—people saying I didn’t fit, that I was too loud, too girly. So I played up the bubbly side, to vibe with you guys, to prove I belonged. But… I’m tired. I’m 25, and I’m not that kid anymore. I’m scared to show the real me.”

Seungkwan reached for her hand, squeezing it. “You belong—always have, always will. You don’t need to prove anything. If you’re hurting, tell us. We’re not just a group—we’re family.”

“And screw the haters,” Seungkwan said fiercely, wiping his own eyes. “Your song’s gonna shut them up. This is Y/N—real, strong, ours.”

One by one, the twelve showered her with words—Wonwoo’s quiet “It’s poetic, Y/N-ie—you’ve got soul,” Mingyu’s earnest “I’m so proud of you,” Vernon’s simple “You killed it.” Even Woozi, usually reserved, said, “You showed your heart, kid. That’s braver than any of us.”

Y/N sobbed, overwhelmed, her usual spark drowned in vulnerability. “I thought… I had to be happy for you guys, for Carats. I didn’t want to let anyone down.”

Seungcheol hugged her tighter, his voice thick. “You could never let us down. If you’re struggling, we want to know—we’ll carry it with you. You’re not alone in the dark, Y/N-ie.”

The others piled in, a messy group hug that toppled snacks and sent trinkets jingling. Hoshi sniffled loudly, “Stop making me cry, you gremlin!” earning a watery laugh from Y/N. For the first time, she felt seen—not as the maknae, the girl, the clown, but as herself, shadows and all.

The session revealed a Y/N they’d missed—her tears weren’t new, but her quiet pain was. As the only girl, she’d fought to fit their rhythm, absorbing hate to shield her place, crafting a persona to belong. Her bubbly side had been armor, and “Unseen” cracked it open, leaving the thirteen raw. They felt the sting of neglect—not intentional, but real—knowing their laughter had sometimes drowned out her silent struggles.

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dameronspector · 23 days ago

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Willow (chapter 3)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Fem!ExAvenger!Reader

Chapter Summary: One minute you were in the vault, the next you are living your worst nightmare. Bob is not who he seems and you’re becoming more and more intrigued by him. Bob comes up with a brilliant idea to escape the vault. John is acting weird. And are you seriously considering these people to be your team?

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Bob’s Bipolar is vaguely mentioned, Graphic Description of a car crash, Loss of a parent, Blood, Dead Body, Injuries, Fight scenes, Canon-typical violence, Void scenes, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, Found Family, Reader is mentioned to be short, Reader psychoanalyses for a tiny second, John Walker Hate- click off if you don't want to read that, light soulmate AU vibes, Reader has magical abilities of the goddess Hecate (eg: necromancy, pyrokinesis, hypnokinesis, dark magic, etc. you can find the rest on rioridanwiki!), that’s all i think!

PS: this is a work of fiction. I don't own any of these characters and I have made some changes to fit the storyline better and because it's an AU. I have taken all the information from google and riordanwiki. Incase I have gotten anything wrong, please let me know!

You came to with a gasp, eyes snapping open as if you had experienced one of those dreams where you feel like you're falling. Your neck was bent at an odd angle, legs tucked closely to your chest and the smell of leather tickling your nose.

There was constant movement underneath your body, your bleary eyes adjusting to your surroundings before coming face to face with the back of a black leather seat. You rubbed your eyes in confusion. Weren't you inside the vault right now?

As you sat up, you realised that you were inside a car. A moving car at that. The windows were rolled down, cool evening air soothing the bruises on your face, stray pieces of hair flying around freely. You felt at peace, oddly, even through the brain fog.

"Just an ordinary girl!

Sometimes I'm lazy, I get bored, I get scared, I feel ignored!-"

A high pitched voice broke you out of the stupor. Your spine straightened up.

You have been here before.

"I get happy, I get silly!", a strong male voice.

There's no way.

"Daddy?", you whispered in shock as you noticed your father's happy face in the rearview mirror, face split up with a smile, making his wrinkles prominent, his hair blowing in the wind and left hand snapping along to the song.

Next to him was a little girl, no older than 10, wearing a white t-shirt and overalls, hair pulled up in a ponytail, her voice screaming out the lyrics of the Hannah Montana song, your favorite show.

You let out a loud gasp of realisation.

That was you.

"No. No no no-", you panicked as you realised what was going to happen in the next 10 minutes.

You lunged out of the seat and put a hand on your dad's shoulder, shaking him violently to get his attention.

"D-Dad. Stop. Please. Pull over- Daddy, please-", you let out in between choked gasps, your chest closing in itself.

He didn't listen. The car went along the highway, other cars zooming past, the sky painted in warm orange and pink shades of the sunset. Such a beautiful sunset and yet, it was the worst day of your life.

"Dad, stop-", you shook him once again, his shoulder shaking you off and looking at kid-you fondly, screaming the lyrics with her.

You let out a sob and tried to open the door, eyebrows scrunched together painfully. "Help! please. What is happening-please-", you begged to thin air, completely clueless as to who or what did this.

The door wouldn't budge, you tried slamming your body into it, making the whole car move. You casted a protection spell, tears blurring your vision and making the task difficult as you stumbled over your words.

Your hands glowed a bright purple, the pain and sorrow bleeding into your powers as it pulsed and formed a bubble against you. As soon as it reached the front seats, black tendrils popped out from behind you, wrapping around you tightly and restraining your arms. Your eyes widened as you thrashed against them.

"No! Leave me! Please, what-what the fuck is happening-Dad!", you were spewing gibberish at this point, your brain lagging between focusing on your incantation and releasing yourself from this invisible force. Your dad and kid-you still singing, him commenting about some idiot behind the car who wouldn't keep honking and flashing the headlights.

You couldn't help but think that this was one of the gods, or Hecate herself, testing you. For betraying the camp, for leaving behind your duties as a demi god. But you were snapped out of your thoughts when the honking got louder, your dad turned the music down and slowed the car, letting the asshole behind you pass.

"What's wrong, dad?", kid-you asked him.

"Don't know, honey. Some people have no manners", his face turned concerned as he took in the car's increasing speed and excessive honking.

"No! Stop this, please, please! Hecate, Hades, whoever it is-Please-", you begged as you sobbed harder, your face heating up and eyes swollen, legs and arms thrashing wildly against the force.

And then, it happened in a blink.

A Bright light blinded you.

Your dad swerved the car. Kid-you grabbed the door handle and your dad's sleeve tightly, lips tugged in a frown and fear stricken across your face.

Your dad leaned over to protect you.

And a loud slam shook the car before it skidded across the road violently and hit head first into the truck in front of your car.

The last thing you saw was your dad's bloody form draped over your lap, something had impaled his stomach, his blood transferring onto your overalls and white t shirt.

You sat there in the backseat, staring at your father's lifeless body, your small body trapped behind his heavy form, you and the kid version of you had the same expression, face wet with tears that you didn't feel and and mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

And then, a purple glow, a hand reaching out to pull you out of the car and-

You opened your eyes.

They first fell on Bob's unconscious form, his brown curls curtaining around his eyes. You blinked against the dizziness and then noticed that your hand was tightly clasped into Bob's warmer one.

He opened his delirious eyes, a sheen of spit coating his mouth and he looked at you guiltily. Blue eyes fell on your joined hands and he hastily left your hand, sitting up quickly before looking away from you in nervousness and shame, his shoulders hunched in.

You sat up with a wince, the back of your head throbbing incessantly along with a sharp pain shooting across your sides and back. You couldn't help but be perplexed with Bob's behavior. The confused eyes, the jittery hands, the drooling--something was off. But you were even more shocked and horrified at the hyper realistic dream you just had. You felt like you were living that car crash again. Your face was wet with all the crying and your chest felt like it was going to collapse, the ache in your lungs almost choking you, your hands a shaking mess.

"You okay?", You looked up and saw that Yelena had extended her hand in front of you, her face twisted in concern.

You swallowed thickly against the lump in your throat and nodded, before gingerly taking her hand and letting her pull you up. You let out a wince and Yelena supported your back, once again checking if you're okay and propped you against the wall when you affirmed yes.

You cast a healing spell on your body, your eyes closed in concentration and gentle waves of magic wrapping around you, soothing the injuries. Letting out a huge sigh after it was over, you leaned your head back against the wall in relief.

You didn't notice Bob's worried eyes drift over to your exhausted body, his heart aching with guilt and sorrow for you.

You had spent the last 10 minutes watching Ava and John bicker, Yelena consoling Bob and breaking the fight between Ava and John meanwhile Bob was muttering things to himself and pacing back and forth.

In the past few hours that you spent around him, you quickly realised that he carried that on-edge and jittery behaviour with him like a second skin. His hands and fingers were constantly fidgeting with each other and his eyes were always blown wide in alarm, like a new born foal taking in their surroundings.

Now, you didn't mean to psychoanalyse anyone but you wracked your brain for all the material that you had studied as a psychology student, trying to understand Bob's body language. You quickly shut the window off because you didn't want to label him as something he probably wasn't and kicked yourself mentally, chiding for thinking in such an unethical and grossly invasive way.

You shifted your attention away from him, not wanting to embarrass him (and yourself) when John had to ruin it with his big mouth.

"-Everyone has a reason to be here, except for this guy", he said out loud as he pointed at Bob. Bob kept pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself, and you glared Walker down.

"Hey, Bobby, less talking to yourself and more taking to us. Tell me how you got here right, goddamnit, now”, Walker kept aggressively poking Bob, who was slowly getting irritated by his tactics.

You narrowed your eyes at John, Yelena looking between the two men with interest and Ava staring Bob down.

“I swear, man, I just woke up in this place. One minute I was, you know, getting... my blood drawn for this medical study, And the next I'm here in my pajamas. I don't know what's going on”, Bob confessed, his arms spread out helplessly.

“Okay, then show me where you woke up. Go on”, John challenged and you made a face. Was he dense on purpose?

Bob looked around before pointing behind him, “In there..”

“Like it wasn’t already obvious, John, are you stupid on purpose?”, you seethed and Bob chuckled under his breath. Your lips twitched.

John clenched his hands into fists, jaw ticking in anger, “Where everything’s on fire. That’s really convenient.”

“You don't remember anything? A bag over your head and a needle in your neck?”, Ava asked in confusion, her gray eyes appearing paler in the low yellow light.

You looked at Bob in curiosity. Ava had a point.

Bob simply shrugged, “No.”

“Chokehold, nerve pinch?”, John pressed further.

“No”, Bob shrugged again.

“Okay, that’s enough”, you urged Ava and John. Yelena seemed to agree with you.

“Yeah, I think he's just a civilian.”

John scoffed, “If he's a civilian, he also knows too much. If he's an agent, he's useless. Either way, I say we throw him back into the fire.”

Bob bristled with annoyance, his face set into a grimace and you glared at John, your eyes turning purple. Yelena grabbed your hand, grounding you instantly.

Then suddenly, Bob laughed. A quiet yet raspy laugh, his loose body shaking with it.

“You said you're Captain America..”, he pointed at John.

John quirked an eyebrow, “Why are you laughing?”

“Just because you're an asshole, you know. It's just funny”, Bob laughed and shrugged in response.

Your eyes widened and you let out a loud cackle, Bob’s smile widening at that.

So, he did have some bite in him after all. You liked him even more now.

But John didn’t like that and he suddenly charged at Bob, hand going around his neck and slamming him into the wall, eyes wide with anger.

You and Yelena ran towards them, one of your hand tightly holding John’s wrist and the other one on Bob’s chest, Yelena stepping in between them to push John away from Bob.

Three things happened at once— your hand that was resting on Bob’s chest was turning unnaturally warm, John suddenly froze and stared at Bob with a shocked expression, and Bob had not moved much since John strangled him. It was then you decided to turn around to check on him and—

You almost thought you were staring at Apollo himself.

Bob’s gorgeous blue irises were now swirling with a golden ring, right in the middle, making them look like a solar eclipse of sorts. He wasn’t phased by John’s super strength, either.

Infact, Bob seemed to revel in the way he had riled the other man up, a satisfied smile stretched across his lips.

You had gone still. The hands on Bob’s chest and John’s wrist loosening, your body frozen on the spot and eyes fixated upon Bob’s enchanted ones. You had already suspected that there was something different about this man, right from the moment you set your eyes on him. That he wasn’t as unassuming as he presented himself to be.

His power was magnetic, you could feel it oozing off of him like the sun’s rays dispersing around the star. You were transfixed, staring at his beautiful golden-blue orbs before Yelena’s voice brought you back to the present.

“Hey, wait, okay, okay, wait, wait, wait. We've swing our tiny dicks around. It was very amusing. You go over there. Bob, come with me”, she instructed as she pushed John away and dragged Bob along with her, taking him to the opposite corner of the room and checking on him.

You just watched them go silently, your mind stuck at the image of Bob’s eyes.

“You saw that too, right?”, John’s voice murmured over your shoulder, his eyes following Bob’s movements too.

You glanced at John and swallowed, unsure of what to respond to his question. Because you knew John had seen what you had, too.

“Yeah. Let’s just…keep it between us for sometime, yeah?”, you replied lowly, eyes looking into John’s deeply, and to your surprise, that man agreed with you. He nodded his head hesitantly before pursing his lips and walking away.

You stood back, watching Bob converse with Yelena, his distressed face and irritation towards John rolling off of him in waves.

Bob’s POV

“No, I'm fine. I'm okay”, he reassured Yelena once again, his eyes flickering to where John and you were standing.

You see, the moment your eyes met across the room, he felt a tug in his chest. It was so strong, that he couldn’t help but be fixated on you, the purple glow of your powers drawing him in. Bob knew this was something special. He wasn’t on drugs anymore, so the chances of it being hallucinations and delusions were far. Yes, he did have those…phases, that he didn’t know what to call, but this wasn’t any of that. There was a connection. Like you had met before. Like you were meant to know each other.

He knew you had seen the way his eyes had changed. How the god hiding inside him was getting off of ridiculing John. Bob was still riding that high, the urge to land a punch on John was so strong, but he was just Regular Bob right now, and Regular Bob didn’t do combat. His hand would be destroyed if he tried to touch Walker’s super soldier body.

He’d also noticed the way his heart had lurched when you pressed your soft and tender hand on his chest. He had felt like he was lit up from inside, the feeling of your hand bleeding through the paper thin fabric of the scrubs he was wearing.

Nobody had touched him like that in a long, long time. So carefully and gently, like he deserved that softness.

But then came the soul crushing guilt of what he saw in the Void with you. Your father’s lifeless body draped across your 10 year old self like a protective blanket, his blood sprayed on you, both of your versions staring at the scene with horror and and shock, the way you'd screamed and begged for someone to help you.

He’d never forget that. And he’d never forgive himself for making you relive that.

He wouldn’t deny that he wasn’t in awe of your resilience, courage, and endurance. He didn’t know anything about you, yet he could feel that you had shouldered some of the worst battles like a warrior and emerged from it a better and bigger person. And inspite of all that, you chose kindness. You didn’t look at him with disgust or pity, you defended him against John, you checked on him when he was being attacked—Bob paused with a realisation.

He was already gone for you. And he didn’t know how to handle that. But he’d do anything to keep you away from him, to protect you and to make sure you never visit your shame rooms.

“You don't look okay”, Yelena snapped him out of his thoughts and observed him closely.

He shuffled in discomfort under her sharp gaze, “Yeah, well. We just met. This is just how I am.”

Yelena paused before continuing, “Oh? You…talking to yourself…?”

Bob shrugged, “Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “You're being more aggressive.”

Bob sighed and pointed at John, “I mean, that guy's been a dick to me from the start”, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation.

“Ah, I get it. He sucks. But we have to work together to get out of here, so...”

He shrugged helplessly, as if he had already given up, “Well, you guys should just ditch me. It'll be easier.”

“Oh no, you’ll die down here”, Yelena chuckled, trying to dissipate the tense moment.

“Well, whatever. I think it's better for everyone if I...Just stay here”, Bob replied softly.

You were passing Bob and Yelena and abruptly stopped when you heard him say—

“Well, whatever. I think it's better for everyone if I...Just stay here.”

A sharp pain struck you from inside, his dejected and small voice piercing your heart, his words heavy with the signs of someone who was knee deep into a depressive episode.

God knows how many times you’ve had those. That one year where you had isolated, was basically you immersing yourself in practice and training so that you didn’t do something intrusive. The 5 years spent at camp were another version of that where you willingly entered in battles, in hopes to have something useful to do or to leave this world as a hero.

Hearing it from Bob, who’d tried nothing but to make himself as small as possible, who’d done everything to not be a hindrance, who’d looked at you like you were something magical—it hurt. You could feel the pain emanating off him. A pain that was so profound and deep, that crushed him under the weight of it. You didn’t know him, but it was like you had always known each other.

You clenched your hands into fists to stop yourself from interrupting their conversation, from giving him a stupid, corny and hypocritical speech about how he mattered, but you pulled yourself together.

This was the only time you’d be thankful for John’s interruption as he called out, “Ugh! Are you two done with therapy? I think I found a way out.”

You swallowed thickly against the lump in your throat, walking over to check out the exit that Walker had miraculously found.

The way out was an elevator shaft. That wasn’t working. Which means all of you were stuck in a cylindrical, enclosed space with no means of getting out of there.

“So, none of us can fly? Or do we just punch and shoot?”, Yelena asked from your right as all of you looked up, the shaft spreading in a never ending darkness.

“I mean, (Name), can you—?”, Bob asked you from your left, his blue eyes looking at you with hope.

You grimaced, “Uh-I can only do that for myself. If I did that for everyone, and for a long time, I’d pass out for days so, yeah.”

Bob winced. Ava rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I got this”, Walker announced smugly and jumped, his super strength launching him above and-

SLAM.

He landed by your feet, groaning in pain.

All of you snickered.

“You should try again”, Ava teased him with a grin on her face.

“We're pretty far down here”, Walker let out in between groans and stood up straight, heaving out a sigh.

“Hey, okay, why don't you just go through the walls or whatever and then throw us down a rope?”, he suggested Ava.

She made a face and sassily put her hands on her hips, “Yeah, well, first of all, someone else would have to ask me. And second, I have to know where I'm going because I've never been able to hold it for longer than a minute. So I'd just get lost in an ocean of earth and then I'd be crushed to death. Okay?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Walker quipped, “Just a minute?”

You pursed your lips.

“Oh, shut up”, Ava spit at him.

“God, we suck”, Yelena groaned and put her hands on her face.

Bob suddenly perked up next to you, “Oh. I have an idea”, a shy smile tugging at his lips. The rest of you stared at him with raised eyebrows.

Bob’s idea consisted of the five of you standing back to back, arms linked together and climbing the whole way up. Just like that. Without using your hands. Only by shuffling your feet from side to side on the walls.

And boy, was that the most annoying and difficult shit to do when you had four grown adults yapping away by your ear.

“Right, left, right-”

“Ugh! Which one of you is wet?!”

“I run hot, I’m sorry…”

“Someone has a weird hard butt..”

“That's not my butt, it's my suit.”

“Well, you need to get a new suit-”

“Oh, excuse me for the inconvenience. I mean, I only spent my entire life in it. Hooked up to machines so I could...create this physical cage to keep my body from disintegrating at all times!”, Ava said breathlessly.

You let out a low whistle, “Yeah, I'm really sorry about that.”

Your back, legs and arms were properly tired now. And your head was pounding from all the nonsense chatter around you. And if that wasn’t enough, you could feel a cramp crawling up your shin from putting too much pressure on your legs, your face twisted in pain.

“Are you okay…?”, Bob’s deep voice asked you in concern, his neck slightly turned to the side to look at you. He must’ve heard the slight winces that were leaving your mouth.

“Yep. Just—twisted my leg in the wrong way”, you said with gritted teeth.

“—Well, you were just a kid, so...”

“Oh, so that's a good thing?”

You groaned, “Please shut them up.”

Bob let out a quiet chuckle. Your stomach flipped at that.

In between all the chaos and talking, none of you actually took into consideration about how high up you were.

“This is crazy, I can't even see the floor”, John said.

“We're not talking about how high we are”, came up Bob’s strained voice.

You looked up, “You scared of heights?”

Bob nodded vehemently.

“Hey, I think I see the door”, John announced and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, all right. Now what?”, Yelena asked.

“I guess one of us should go first.”

“Then the other three will fall.”

“Sorry, I don't think I really thought that far ahead…”, Bob sulked.

“Great plan, Bobby”, John chastised him.

Bob let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Always making things worse…”, his voice coming out small and vulnerable, like a child that was being scolded for breaking a pot.

Your face fell, hating the way he was making himself smaller again, your chest burning with the same ache.

“Hey, Bob”, you called him softly.

His head lifted up before slightly turning it to the side to let you know that he heard you.

“It’s a great idea. We’ve come so far. We’ll figure something out, don’t worry, yeah?”, you murmured so that only he could hear you.

A small smile tugged at his lips, which were once again coated with a sheen of spit. You had to fight the urge to wipe it off.

“You’re-you’re too kind, (Name)”, he replied in a shy manner, his voice catching at your name. Your heart beating faster at the way it rolled off his tongue.

You opened your mouth to speak, when John interrupted you once again.

“Hand me your staff, I can reach it”, he referred to Yelena’s batons.

“What? No way. You're just going to leave us.”

“Okay, spin us around and then I'll…catch you guys”, he offered hesitantly.

“I'm not spinning anybody around.”

“We’re gonna fall if we do that as well, genius”, you quipped.

“Okay, someone has to go first—”

“Cucumber! Cucumber, Cucumber”, Bob suddenly chanted next to you and you jumped at the sudden disturbance.

“What the hell is happening?!”, Yelena asked in confusion.

“Growing up, someone told me that you could stop a sneeze if you confused your brain. I always yelled "cucumber””, he confessed.

“Oh, that’s good”, you complimented him.

Bob shook his head side to side, “I need to sneeze.”

Your eyes widened.

“What-”

“But if I sneeze, you know, then I'm going to lose control-”, he let out between loud breaths.

“This is insane”, Ava groaned, shifting in discomfort.

“Okay, I can get us all out of here. I just need to go first”, John spoke next to you, his eyes trained at the door above your heads.

“No, no, no, no, no, no—”, Bob exclaimed and you were stressing out.

“It's gonna be like this-”

“Oh, no-”, Bob said and closed his eyes, as if preparing to sneeze.

All of you panicked and yelled a chorus of, “Cucumber, cucumber, cucumber, cucumber, Cucumber, cucumber, cucumber—”

“Just give it to me”, John told Yelena as he yanked her baton off her back and threw it at the door, causing the rest of you to lose balance and fall.

“FUCK!”, you yelled as you dropped, your stomach tensing with the shift in gravity and the others screamed in unison.

You managed to cast a safety spell just as you were falling, your magic encasing you in a sparkling bubble and you breathlessly hovered in the air. Meanwhile, Yelena hung off a chord, Ava inserted a hook in the metal walls and steadied herself against them, her boots skidding across, and Bob was hanging upside down from Yelena’s wrist chords.

He let out a tiny sneeze then, his body folding before straightening and you had to bite your lip to stop the dumb smile from spreading.

He was too cute.

Finally, John did manage to climb up and open the door for you all. He had secured his body with a long water hose, the huge fabric tied around his waist tightly and he slowly began pulling the others up, you making your way first as you had an advantage of flying.

“Yeah you’re all safe now.”

“Selfish prick”, Ava spit at John as he pulled her up, quickly dropping his hand and walking away from him.

You stayed by the opening of the shaft with your arms crossed by your chest.

“I made a tactical decision to secure my own safety and then ensure all of yours”, he quipped and pulled Yelena up.

“Pretty ungrateful if you ask me. But you’ll make it, right, Bobby?”, he called out for Bob who slowly pulled himself up, a hand bracing against the floor and staring at Walker in doubt before grasping his hand tightly.

“Looks like you might have missed leg, arm and chest day”, John teased.

You caught the expression on Bob’s face and furrowed your brows.

He had the same expression when he was holding your hand back there, outside the vault.

John pulled Bob up and he nervously made his way over to you, his fingers fiddling with each other. You gave him a smile and walked over to where Yelena and Ava were standing, ready to get the hell out of this place.

You turned around to see that John was standing dangerously close to the shaft, his feet touching the edge, head bowed slightly, his expression blank.

You froze.

“What is he doing?”, you sputtered, the others quickly turning around and looking at John in confusion.

“Walker. Are you okay?”, Yelena asked him.

He snapped out of his daze, eyes looking around the area in slight surprise and confusion before he schooled his face back into that laid back expression of his.

“I’m fine”, he smirked and gave you all a shrug.

You looked at him doubtfully, his pale eyes meeting yours before he averted them away in shame.

And in all this confusion, you didn’t notice how Bob was staring at him in fear and sadness, his body folded in itself like a shell, tension coiled tight around his shoulders.

“We need to come up with a plan. This is what we're going to do—”

“Oh now you’re the boss. Cute!”, Ava sassed.

“Well, yeah. It's your only chance to get out of here, so”, John shrugged.

“Why should you be in charge?”, you quirked an eyebrow.

“You almost got us all killed, didn't you?”, Ava backed you.

John paused before clicking his tongue, “Well, let's see. I've been in the trenches of every war torn country on this planet, rescued God knows how many hostages, and shook the hands of two U.S. Presidents. What else? Uh, oh. High school state football champions. Back to back to back. Go Bears!”, he finished his little monologue with jazz hands.

You snorted, “That's supposed to impress us? The hell are we going to do with your stupid football championship?”

“Oh, wow. When I was five, I was on a little league soccer team called West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Shane's Tire Shop. We didn't win a single game the entire time. This girl, Mindy, made a poo on the field. Anyone else have any pointless childhood stories to tell me?”, Yelena said in irritation.

“I grew up in a lab prison”, Ava added.

“Meth-addicted sign twirling chicken, Summer job”, Bob spoke up. You looked at him in surprise before adding,

“I can see and talk to gods and goddesses”, with a shrug.

If you’re gonna die here, you’d at least like to die with the gods knowing where you were and it’s not like anybody here is interested in pursuing that. You couldn’t sense any sort of malicious intent on any of them yet.

They were just a bunch of shooting and punching losers.

Except Bob. He was special.

Everyone in the room turned to look at you in shocked before Yelena brought everyone’s attention back to the problem at hand.

“Right. Well, here's the plan. We set off an explosion to bring them in-”

“I don’t know. Too many variables with an explosion”, John interrupted. You hummed in agreement.

“They turn on their night vision. You handle the first wave, but you wait for me after I've blinded the remaining troops”, she continued like the unofficial leader.

“Everyone's gonna wait for you?”

“It'll only work if you wait.”

“It's a terrible plan.”

Yelena ignored that and continued with her instructions, “Ava, find us an escape vehicle. (Name) you stick with John, protect and deflect if the number of soldiers is high.”

You nodded solemnly.

“What about me?”, Bob spoke up hopefully.

“You…Stay behind me, Bob”, Yelena replied and checked her weapons.

Bob frowned, his face taut with the agitation at not being allowed to help. Why did he even need to take permission?, he asked himself.

You looked at him for a second before standing next to him, a hand resting on his shoulder gently.

He jumped and snapped his head up, relaxing when he saw that it was you, his eyes softening up.

“It’s okay. We just wanna protect you. I know you can probably hold on your own. Maybe you can help us out next time?”, you offered in a friendly tone, your head tilted to the side like a puppy.

He seemed to mull it over, his eyes fluttering across your face to look for any ulterior motives, fingers picking at the skin around his nails before he gave you a slight smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Maybe”, he replied and you gave him a sweet smile, his heart beating out of his chest at that.

He mourned the warmth as you removed your hand from his shoulder, and watched you walk away from him longingly.

The five of you peeked out of the large doorway, the darkness of the lobby shielding your faces but were immediately blinded by the bright halogens trained in front of the entrance, huge trucks and an alarming amount of soldiers standing defensively. Ready to fire at anyone, anytime.

“She’s a fucking psycho”, you murmured and John scoffed, Ava shaking her head in disbelief.

Yelena and Bob silently observing the situation. Yelena with a calculating approach, Bob with confusion and dread.

You just prayed that all of you got out of here safely.

Cursing inwardly as you unknowingly included the safety of everyone. You weren’t about to get attached. Not when these people were a lost cause and probably didn’t even give a fuck about you or anybody else. Not when John Walker was a member of this….team. Not when Yelena reminded you too much of Natasha. Not when Ava was blissfully unaware of how funny she was.

Not when you had no idea of who or what Bob was.

And yet, you cared. You worried for all of them. And you hoped they’d all make it out of here safely.

Chapter 4

AN: FINALLY CHAPTER 3 IS OUT WOOHOOOO!! Also I am definitely breaching the soulmate AU territory but it’s not fully that. I just like to make them tethered cus their powers are kind of similar!

Please like and reblog, I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3

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hargreeves-duncan · 2 months ago

Text

⎯⎯ BAKING DISASTER

a/n: a little, fluffy luca piece which is entirely self indulgent of the fact i messed up my baking yesterday - enjoy!

summary: you try to bake a surprise for your boyfriend. it doesn’t go as well as you’d hoped

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.6k

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

It was gone ten in the evening and your boyfriend, Luca, still wasn’t home yet from work.

He had recently been appointed head pastry chef at work, and that meant that between your 9-5 and his 5-till-whenever schedule you hardly ever saw one another.

You knew this arrangement was only temporary, whilst your boyfriend settled in, but it was still taking a serious toll on you. You missed simply having Luca in your space.

So, impulsively, you’d decided to whip up a dessert of your own for him to come home to.

The recipe seemed simple enough, with no more than ten ingredients to it, and so you’d spent the evening prepping a delicious-looking brookie.

Some of the terms you’d had to give a google as you went - they’d felt completely foreign.

Before today, you’d had no idea how to brown butter and the idea of “barely combining” the wet and dry ingredients made no sense to you, but, you’d gone through it all for your lover.

In the end, your mixture looked slightly darker than the recipe’s, but how much did that mean, really?

And the grainy sound of the sugar as you spread the mixture into the brownie tin was completely normal, right?

You hoped so, as you stood, leaning against the kitchen island. The oven hummed dully in the otherwise silence of your flat.

You still had ten minutes to kill, if the recipe was to be believed.

You picked up your phone, scrolling through until you found the shared playlist that Luca and you had curated together.

You pressed play and Johnny Tillotson’s voice drifted through the kitchen’s speakers, singing ‘Poetry in Motion’.

You couldn’t help the giddy feeling stirring in your stomach at just the thought of Luca, and how he’d chosen this song just for you.

You swayed to the beat of the music, dancing through your kitchen as you tidied up the tidal wave of baking products you’d left in your wake.

Before long, you found yourself singing along to the lyrics, unable to resist the soft words leaving your lips.

The click of the front door opening and closing snatched your attention, as Luca called teasingly, “Is that Tillotson I can hear?”

You glanced up, watching your boyfriend as he took off his scarf and coat, hanging them on the coatrack.

His blonde hair was tousled from the evening wind and the hairs on his toned forearms perked up as he stepped further into the flat.

Your eyes lingered on the heart inked below his left ear. He’d gotten it for you a while back, as a promise ring of sorts. Your heart swelled.

A grin tugged at your lips as you tilted your head up for a kiss, “Indeed it is. Hello.”

“Hello, gorgeous.” Luca grinned, hands instinctively sliding to your waist as he pulled you in.

“Whatcha making?” He asked curiously, tilting his head to the side as his soft eyes took you in.

“A brookie.” You replied, glancing back over at the oven, “Should be done in a sec.”

“Well, it smells good.” Luca smiled, pecking your lips, “You made it just for me?”

You gave a soft hum, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and he smiled fondly, “Well, thank you, beautiful. That’s very sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled shyly and then bit your lip as you glanced back at the oven, “I’m not a hundred percent sure how good it’ll be, though.”

“Well, that’s okay, you’ve given it a go. I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Luca said reassuringly, his hand coming to rest in the curve of your back.

“Let’s take a look at it, hm?” He gave a gentle pat to your back and then manoeuvred around the kitchen.

Grabbing a tea towel, he opened up the oven and set your dessert on the kitchen countertop. He took a knife and cut around the edges of the brookie, easing it away from the tin.

He gently prodded at the brookie with his finger, “We’ll give it a second to cool down before we take it out, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave a small nod, eyes fixated hungrily on the brookie. From this angle, it couldn’t look better.

Luca kissed you gently in acknowledgment and then took the knife to the sink, rinsing it off. The music faded, making room for a new song.

The soulful double bass that opens Ben E. King’s ’Stand By Me’ floated into the room and a smile tugged at your lips as you watched your boyfriend.

Luca paused, mid-rinse, as he, too, recognised the song. He glanced over his shoulder at you, with a knowing smile, “Haven’t heard this one in a while.”

“I added it to the playlist the other day.” You hummed softly, your own smile growing brighter.

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Luca replied, drying off his hands on a tea towel. The sweet melody of the song drifted through your flat.

“It always makes me think of you.” He smiled, reaching his hand out for you and giving you a small twirl into his arms.

“Why?” You laughed, feeling warmth creep up your cheeks as he compliments you.

“For obvious reasons.” Luca hummed, beginning to move step-by-step in a slow-dance around your tiny kitchen.

“I want you… to stand by me.” He shrugged, as if it were that simple and to Luca, it was. Loving you came as second nature to him.

“Romantic.” You replied teasingly and Luca grinned.

“Super romantic, gorgeous.” He kissed your lips again and began singing along. He twirled you around under the kitchen light.

“Oh, I won’t be afraid.” Luca shook his head, eyes on you in this intimate moment, his arms holding you close.

“Just as long, as you stand… stand by me.” Luca gently shook you in time with the lyrics, voice growing sillier.

“So, darling! Darling! Stand… by me.” He continued with his ridiculous rendition, with far more gravel in his voice than he needed.

You laughed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the rumble of his voice through your bones as you pressed yourself closer to him, “Oh, stand by me.”

The song came to a gentle close and for a moment Luca and you stood, in one another’s arms, simply swaying.

He glanced back over to the tin on the counter and pecked below your ear.

“Perfect timing.” Luca tapped your hip, then turned his attention back to your brookie.

Quick as a flash, Luca flipped over the tin with practised ease. After a moment, he lifted it up and…

As soon as it left the tin, the brookie’s form dismantled, collapsing into a pathetic pile on top of the cooling rack. Your face dropped.

“Oh my god…” You said quietly. Both a frustrated and upset huff left your lips as you stared at the undoing of all your hard work.

“It’s alright, these things happen.” Luca cooed, running a knife through the wreckage to search for a salvageable piece of brookie.

“Let’s give it a go, could be nice.” He persisted, and you already knew your boyfriend was only trying to save your ego.

What should’ve been a brookie was barely cooked and you could still see the bulky grains of sugar that made up the majority of the dessert itself.

Luca picked a piece up and had a bite, his face contorted slightly as he chewed, “Mm… it tastes almost… thick.“

“I’m not quite sure how you’ve managed that.” He smacked his lips together, handing you a piece.

You chewed it, and couldn’t deny that he was right.

Luca watched the realisation spread on your face, “You see what I mean there, right? It’s nice… the chocolate’s definitely coming through but it’s very thick.”

“Hm…” Luca murmured, looking back over the pile, “Yeah, you saw how how it went all crumbly very quickly, darling?”

You leaned into his shoulder, with a sheepish, little smile, as he explained your mistakes to you tenderly.

“That’s because you’ve got too much sugar in it. Are you sure you followed the recipe?” He asked, large hand cupping the back of your head comfortingly.

“Yes, I know I did.” You nodded, head curving into the palm of his hand, “It said 300 grams, I double-checked my measuring on everything.”

“Darling.” Luca stopped chewing to look back at you, a disappointed frown on his face.

“What?” You laughed nervously, taking his hands into yours and tugging gently. He squeezed your hands in return, sighing.

“In what world does 300 grams of sugar sound right to you for one batch of food, hm?” He asked, reaching one hand up and tapping the bottom of your chin.

“Well, I didn’t think about it!” You protested, smiling shyly, “It was like… It seemed like a proper recipe, loads of other people had used it too.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Where did you find the recipe?”

“Tiktok.” Almost immediately, you bowed your head in shame, knowing exactly what a ribbing you were about to get from your boyfriend.

Luca laughed heartily, “Darling. A proper recipe? From Tiktok? I’m starting to see where we’ve gone wrong here.”

He pulled you into his side, pecking the top of your head to try and tame your glum expression, despite his mocking.

“Why don’t we try again, hm? We’ll make your brookie with a trusted recipe this time.” Luca teased, poking your ribs.

Your stomach pulsated as you laughed, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He smiled, strong arms tugging you closer to him. He pecked your cheek.

“Okay.” You laughed, eyes crinkling with joy.

It was clear to you now that there would only ever be one cook in your kitchen, but you could more than live with that.

#the bear #the bear fx #will poulter #chef luca #chef luca x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #luca the bear #luca the bear x reader

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peacheeeliz · 17 days ago

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037. under pressure (wc: 743)

The sound of San's voice booming through the bar is you squeeze your way through other patrons, holding two drinks up high as you maneuver through the crowd. Although the energy in the room was still electric, the night was unfortunately winding down. Just before this song began, the three boys on stage announced that it would be the last on their debut set. So, of course, you and Karina had to get in one more drink before the night was over.

Finally, after pressing your way through a plethora of sweaty college students, you find your way back to your friends and hand Karina one of the drinks in your hands. Your glasses meet with a clink before you both down your drinks.

“This was so seriously needed!” She yells over the music, bumping her head to the melody as she sets the empty glass down on the table beside her. “I mean, who needs Hwiyoung? He was too good to be true!”

You let out a laugh at the barely audible words, setting your glass down as well. Before you can respond, the song comes to an end, and your attention is brought back up to the stage. San stands in front of the microphone, smiling and waving towards the crowd.

“Thank you all so much for an amazing night,” he begins, hand over his heart. “It seriously means so much that so many of you came out to support us for our debut gig.”

“But, we wouldn't be here without an amazing experience that unfortunately ended six months ago,” Yunho continues, which makes your heart ache for the band that used to be. Though, as Yunho mentions his friends, you can't seem to find them anywhere near you. Your eyes wander around, trying to make out any of the boys. “Which is why we've decided to add just one more song to the setlist tonight, something real special with some special people.”

Your eyes finally find the rest of the boys: on stage with The Willows, instruments in hand. The encore was a Pirate's Melody reunion. Your jaw drops, and the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “What the fuck?”

When your eyes meet Wooyoung's, a smile spreads across his lips. He's sitting at his drum set, drumsticks in hand, his blond hair illuminating under the stage lights. He looks so happy, being able to perform again – or at least, that's what you assume to be the reason for his big, toothy grin.

“In fact, the song we have prepared for you tonight is one you've never heard before,” San says, looking back at Wooyoung with a wink. “Our very own Woo even helped write and produce it, so let's show him and this song some love tonight, alright?”

The crowd cheers for the group, absolutely ecstatic that the group was back in action after so long apart. The melody starts slow, much softer than any of their other songs, and eventually, San begins to sing into the microphone. Matching the vibe of the song, the crowd gets quieter, calmer. And the lyrics are absolutely beautiful, pulling you into a trance you've never felt before.

And when Wooyoung's voice flows through the speakers after the chorus, harmonizing well with San, you feel a chill run up your spine. His eyes find yours again, yet they never leave. The lyrics slip past his lips as if he's speaking them to you, as if it's just the two of you in this bar right now. That familiar, yet unfamiliar, feeling rises in your stomach as you watch his soft features.

“Will you still love me when we're under pressure?” The two boys sing together, but Wooyoung's eyes stay on you, and it makes your heart flutter.

Jung Wooyoung. Your friends with benefits from just seven months ago. The man who was at your door at six in the morning six months ago, cursing at you. He was making your heart flutter. Heat was rising to your cheeks, and you just knew it wasn't because of the excess of body heat around you. You had to look away, everything overwhelming you very suddenly, and you begin to tiptoe away from your friends.

“Dude, where are you going?” Karina asks, instantly recognizing that you weren't beside her.

“I just,” you pause, taking a breath. “I need some air, sorry.” Before she can question you even further, you're disappearing into the crowd.

synopsis ⤏ when wooyoung, mr. "scared of commitment," finds himself catching feelings for you, his supposed friend with benefits, he struggles between keeping things casual or possibly ruining your friendship.

a/n: under pressure release day YK i had to include it in this chapter

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tavolgisvist · 4 months ago

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‘I’ve had enough’

I’d been keeping largely quiet about John and The Beatles split-up in the press. I didn’t really have many accusations to fling, but being John, he was flinging quite a few in interviews [with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone]. <…> John would say things like, ‘It was rubbish. The Beatles were crap.’ Also, ‘I don’t believe in The Beatles, I don’t believe in Jesus, I don’t believe in God’ [Plastic Ono Band album]. Those were quite hurtful barbs to be flinging around, and I was the person they were being flung at, and it hurt. So, I’m having to read all this stuff, and on the one hand I’m thinking, ‘Oh fuck off, you fucking idiot,’ but on the other hand I’m thinking, ‘Why would you say that? Are you annoyed at me or are you jealous or what?’ <…> I was sort of answering him here [Dear Friend], asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

“When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. <…> “So y’see, all that happened when I blew my mouth off was that it was an abscess bursting, except that mine as usual burst in public. <…> …the trouble is people just wanted bigmouth Lennon to shout about the lows. So I made a quick trip to uncover the hidden stones of my mind, and a lot of the bats flew and some of them are going to have to stay. I’ve got perspective now, that’s a fact.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

John actually had Allen Klein and Yoko in the room, suggesting lyrics during writing sessions. In his song ‘How Do You Sleep?’ the line ‘The only thing you done was yesterday’ was apparently Allen Klein’s suggestion, and John said, ‘Hey, great. Put that in.’ I can see the laughs they had doing it, and I had to work very hard not to take it too seriously, but at the back of my mind I was thinking, ‘Wait a minute, All I ever did was “Yesterday”? I suppose that’s a funny pun, but all I ever did was “Yesterday”, “Let It Be”, “The Long and Winding Road”, “Eleanor Rigby”, “Lady Madonna”, . . . – fuck you, John.’

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

['How Do You Sleep']’s not serious. Like, if Paul was really, really hurt by it, I’ll soo– I’ll know by the vibes, come round. Even if he doesn’t call, well, I’ll explain it to him. I’ll even write to him, you know. If he really really thinks it’s – thinks it’s really really serious.

(John Lennon,September 9th, 1971, interview with Howard Smith)

Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

As it happened, I was in New York that day [30 January 1972], having met with John the day before. It was a meeting at which we more or less agreed to stop sniping at each other.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

On January 19, 1975 John Lennon in a letter to Derek Taylor: BOWIES CUTTIN “UNIVERSE” (LET IT BEATLE). AM A GONNA BE THERE (BY REQUEST OF COURSET). THEN POSSIBLEY DOWN TO NEW ORLEONS TO SEE THE McCARTKNEES.

(Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift (Genesis Publications, Guildford, 1984) in in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Mardi Gras season was due to begin on Monday, February 10, with the main parade sweeping through town on “Fat Tuesday” itself—the date John and May had targeted for their visit to New Orleans. Sehorn and Toussaint warned Paul that the studio would be inaccessible during the peak of the festivities, and said they were considering closing Sea-Saint completely for the week starting February 10. Wings now had the perfect excuse to put the sessions on hold and throw themselves into the celebratory atmosphere. But Paul’s hope of sharing that celebration with John were dashed during the overdubbing sessions on February 6, when John phoned Sea Saint and the receptionist patched his call through to the control room. “The separation didn’t work out,” Lennon joked, telling Paul that he had moved back to the Dakota on February 3—just as Paul was recording ‘Call Me Back Again,’ the song he started just after reconnecting with John in Los Angeles [March-April 1974]—and that he and Yoko were hoping to work things out.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

‘I was going down to New Orleans to help out on Paul’s last album Venus and Mars, but I was too busy being happy at the time. If you’re reading this, Paul, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it…’

[…] And then, of course, there’s Yoko. ‘We are back together now. and happier than over before. It’s the old, old story—when you get someone back that you’ve lost it’s better than ever.’ It was the reconciliation which so involved John that he couldn’t tear himself away to work with McCartney in New Orleans.”

(John Lennon, 1975, interview with Penny Grant for Game: Enjoying the big apple)

Paul leaves to take a telephone call.

LINDA: I was just going to say that I think if John had lived, he might still be saying, “OH, I’m much happier now….” <…> PLAYBOY: But wasn’t it clear that John wanted only to work with Yoko? LINDA: No. I know that Paul was desperate to write with John again. And I know John was desperate to write . . . desperate. People thought, Well, he’s taking care of Sean, he’s a househusband and all that, but he wasn’t happy. He couldn’t write and it drove him crazy. And Paul could have helped him–easily.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, Dec.1984, interview with Joan Goodman for Playboy, 1984)

PLAYBOY: "Aside from the millions you've been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels' generous offer of $3200 for appearing together on 'Saturday Night Live'..?" LENNON: "Oh, yeah. Paul and I were together watching that show [April 26, 1976]. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired." PLAYBOY: "How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together?" LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. <…> …he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there, watching the show, and we went, 'Ha-ha, wouldn't it be funny if we went down?' but we didn't."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

Paul recounts the SNL story a few months after it happened

(audio)

Backstage after the first show [May 24, 1976] McCartney phoned his old songwriting partner at the Dakota. Paul had expected John not to attend, but hoped that he might*. He would miss the second show [May 25] too, because he and Yoko were flying to Los Angeles that day. “They said they were glad the show went well. And we left it at that,” Paul reported. John did, however, request a pair of tickets to the second show for Sean’s babysitter.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

*Why it was so important (and John knew it)

During their trip [27-30 April 1977] the McCartneys were also hoping for a springtime reunion with John and Yoko and paid a surprise visit to the Dakota. But their timing was terrible: John and Yoko were busily preparing for an upcoming trip to Japan while also dealing with Sean as he approached the Terrible Twos. The McCartneys did not make it past the front door of Apartment 72.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

It's ten years since I really communicated with him. I know as much about him as he does about me, which is zilch. About two years ago, he turned up at the door. I said, 'Look, do you mind ringin' first? I've just had a hard day with the baby. I'm worn out and you're walkin' in with a damn guitar!"

(John Lennon, The September 29th 1980 issue of Newsweek)

LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him, 'Please call before you come over. It's not 1956 and turning up at the door isn't the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.' He was upset by that, but I didn't mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day and some guy turns up at the door… PLAYBOY: "Was that the last time you saw Paul?" LENNON: "Yes, but I didn't mean it like that."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

PAUL: When Sean (John and Yoko's son) was first born, I visited him a few times at the Dakota (Lennon's apartment house in New York). And then it had gone snotty. I used to turn up without calling him. One time, he got annoyed with me. He said, 'Well, look, man… Why do you just keep turning up here and surprise us? Why don't you just call first?' And I took that the wrong way. After that, I don't think I did see him.

(Paul McCartney, spring of 1982, interview with Jim Miller for Newsweek)

That came about when I was just sitting around in the studio one day [May 5, 1977], doing rock ‘n’ roll kind of chords, just very simple bluesy kind of chords. And I just had the chorus. And the rest of it I used to just mumble. So we did it on the boat with me mumbling the vocal track and just shouting ‘I’ve had enough’ when it comes to the chorus. And I wrote some words to it and again we finished that off in London.

(Paul McCartney BBC Radio 1, 1978)

PLAYBOY: In most of his interviews, John said he never missed the Beatles. Did you believe him? PAUL: I don’t know. My theory is that he didn’t. Someone like John would want to end the Beatle period and start the Yoko period. And he wouldn’t like either to interfere with the other. As he was with Yoko, anything about the Beatles tended inevitably to be an intrusion. So I think he was interested enough in his new life to genuinely not miss us.

(Paul McCartney, Dec.1984, interview with Joan Goodman for Playboy, 1984)

Buchan [Alasdair Buchan of the Daily Mirror] pressed McCartney on John Lennon’s recent assertion that he had made his contribution to society and did not plan to work again. “He’s full of wind, isn’t he?” McCartney scoffed. “Maybe he isn’t going to work anymore, but it’s no skin off my nose. It’s really up to John. I’ve heard him talk like that before. . . . I think he must be very bored now.” [November 1977]

(Demos to roll off the Lennon production line during this period included ‘Real Love,’ ‘Now and Then,’ ‘Free as a Bird,’ ‘What Ever Happened To?’ and ‘She Is a Friend of Dorothy’s.’)

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

PLAYBOY: "You say you haven't listened to Paul's work and haven't really talked to him since that night in your apartment…" LENNON: "Really talked to him, no, that's the operative word. I haven't really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven't spent time with him. I've been doing other things and so has he. You know, he's got 25 kids and about 20,000,000 records out. How can he spend time talking? He's always working."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

PLAYBOY: But in the last ten years you’ve never wondered if it might not come as easily, as naturally again as it once did? LENNON: …I thought, maybe that’s it. Maybe music’s over. I mean, I was preparing not to make any music again…

(John Lennon, Sept. 1980, in All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

…If I had known John was going to die I would not have been as stand-offish as I was. You know how people are in relationships. If someone tells you to piss off you say well piss off yourself then. You don’t realise that there may be pain and it’s very hard to say Jesus’s thing. You know – turning the other cheek. “OK, you can tell me to piss off but I still think you’re great”. If I knew John was going to die I would have made a lot more effort to try and get behind his mask and try and get a better relationship with him. As it was I think I did have a pretty good relationship with him but when he started slagging me off I was not prepared to say “well you’re quite right” because I’m human. <…> I just turned round and said piss off. Had I known it was going to be that final – that quick – I would not have said that. <…> That’s my regret really where I now see what I could have said, listen and put my arm round him…

(Paul McCartney, 1983, interview with Neil Tilly for fanzine BREAKOUT! (Issue 15) Aug/Sept 1983)

#john and paul #john lennon #paul mccartney #interview: paul #interview: john #70s

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