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I made a balanced lunch of all the things you guys keep wanting to eat on my blog

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RIDDLE ME THIS, HOODS GOT A GIRL?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources & thecutestgrotto word count: 1.7k synopsis: The Bats need information, Jason has an informant...who might also be more. a/n: I feel so utterly single writing these imagines, but I only want one of the bat boys 😭

The night sky over Gotham shone with its usual smog-streaked clouds faintly glowing orange from the city’s lights.

Inside the Batcave, it was a whirl of activity as the team tried to figure out the Riddler's location.

“We need someone who knows Riddler’s movements—someone who’s worked with his patterns recently,” Bruce said, gaze narrowed on the glowing map display.

Jason leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest, helmet tucked under one arm. “I’ve got someone.”

Tim paused mid-keystroke. “You’ve got someone?”

Dick raised a brow. “Someone you’re willing to share with the class?”

“She’s not exactly a people person,” Jason said with a lazy shrug, already turning to leave. “But she’s solid. I’ll get the info.”

“No way,” Damian said flatly. “If there’s an informant involved, we’re all going.”

Jason sighed. “She’s not exactly an informant.”

“But she has intel,” Dick added, voice teasing. “And you just happen to be the one she’s willing to talk to? Sounds suspicious.”

Jason shot him a look that could’ve cracked concrete. “Just stay out of the way.”

They met you beneath the derelict train yard off Kane Street—barely lit, long forgotten, and exactly the kind of place no one stumbled into by accident. The rusted metal groaned in the breeze, and the distant hum of Gotham felt muted here, swallowed by shadows and silence. You were already waiting, perched atop a decaying train car like a sentinel, one leg bent, the other dangling with casual ease.

The moment they stepped into view, you jumped down with fluid grace, boots landing soundlessly on the gravel below. The black and steel tactical gear you wore clung to every sharp line of your body, outlining lethal efficiency. Twin pistols were strapped tight against your thighs, and the half-raised hood left your expression mostly concealed—save for the sharp glint of your eyes.

“You’re late,” You said, voice low and smooth.

Jason smirked beneath the helmet. “Traffic.”

“Uh-huh.” You didn’t sound convinced.

That was when Nightwing stepped forward, all charm and sunshine grins, as if that smile of his could melt any armour. “And who might you be, gorgeous?”

Your eyes flicked to him, unimpressed. “Not interested.”

Tim coughed into his hand, clearly trying to hide a laugh. Damian smirked, crossing his arms with a tilt of smug satisfaction. Both of them had encountered you before—brief run-ins during missions that didn’t last long. You were direct. Cold. All business. No patience for pleasantries or ego-stroking.

It was one of the reasons Bruce was even considering pulling you into the fold. Claiming, he needed more serious people but everyone was sure he needed someone who brooded as much as him. But tonight you didn’t seem as broody.

Jason tilted his head. “Play nice.”

“I am,” You shot back, then turned back to him—and your tone shifted. 

You took a few deliberate steps forward, closing the distance between you and Jason until the toe of your boot nearly touched his. Your fingers reached out, grazing the edge of his chest armour.

“You look good, Hood,” you said, voice low and sly. “Still wearing red for me?”

Jason’s head tilted slightly, the faintest smirk pulling beneath his helmet. “Figured it hides the blood.”

Your lips curved into dark dangerous amusement. “You always did bleed pretty.”

A cough from behind broke the charged silence.

“I didn’t know you two had met,” Tim said, cautious, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“We’ve crossed paths,” you replied smoothly, gaze still locked on Red Hood like no one else existed. “Several times.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest, his stance loose but alert. “She saved my ass once.”

“And he returned the favour,” You replied.

“You got something for me?” he asked, jumping into business.

You reached into her jacket, producing a drive between two gloved fingers, holding it just out of his reach. “Maybe. Depends.”

“On what?”

“You know what I want,” You crooned.

Jason’s reply was steady, unwavering. “You know I always deliver.”

That earned a smirk from you. You leaned in just a touch more, voice a soft purr. “You gonna say please, Hood?”

Jason reached out, his hand closing lightly around your wrist. The grip was firm, a warning more than a threat. “Don’t push.”

Your eyes sparked with interest—delight, even. “Oh, but it’s so fun.”

Still, this time, you relented. Slowly, purposefully, you stepped closer and tucked the drive into the utility pouch strapped at his hip. Your hand lingered there longer than necessary, fingers brushing over the gear, grazing the curve of his waist.

“Under Tricorner,” you said quietly, close enough now your breath warmed the space beneath his helmet. “He’s nesting under the old cathedral ruins. You’ll want to take the west tunnel—avoid the gas traps.”

“Appreciate it,” he replied, but his voice was a little rougher now.

You smiled, slow and wicked. “You always know how to say thank you.”

And then, with the same casual audacity you wielded like a blade, you leaned up and pressed your lips to the underside of his helmet leaving behind the faintest mark of your lipstick

Backing away, you turned on your heel, already fading into the fog that clung to the edges of the train yard. But your parting words were clear. “You know how to find me… to pay up, Hood.”

Then you were gone, swallowed by the dark as if you’d never been there at all.

The boys stared at Jason in stunned silence.

He turned slowly, expression unreadable beneath the helmet, and said dryly, “What?”

Dick blinked, visibly thrown. “You and her?”

“I told you she’s not a people person and…” Jason shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “We’ve got history.”

“I—how long has this been happening?” Tim asked, looking genuinely lost.

Jason was already walking past them, shoulders relaxed, “Long enough.” 

Damian narrowed his eyes, trailing behind. “What kind of payment is she demanding from you?”

Jason didn’t even look back.

“None of your business, Demon Spawn.”

LATER THAT NIGHT

Riddler had been taken care of and Jason was finally off the clock. But instead of heading to his apartment, he headed over to another.

He slipped through the open window, careful not to get tangled in the curtains as they fluttered in the warm breeze. The light in the kitchen dimmed low. The soft trace of gunmetal and something sweeter, like vanilla lingered in the air.

His armour peeled off piece by piece, left in a silent trail across the hardwood. Chest plate. Gloves. Utility belt. Boots. Until he was left in nothing but his boxers.

The bedroom door was cracked. Light from the street spilled across the bed in thin golden ribbons, illuminating the figure curled beneath the sheets.

She was there. Tucked into the centre of the mattress, tangled in a nest of linen and shadows. His shirt—an old, faded thing he’d once bled in and meant to throw out—was all she wore, slipping off one shoulder and riding high on her thighs.

She always looked like a contradiction like that. Sharp in every moment of the night—cold eyes, cutting voice, touch like a weapon—and soft here, in the early mornings. Laid bare and defenceless in the place no one else got to see.

Jason paused in the doorway, his breath catching for reasons he didn’t want to name. He didn’t get softness often. He didn’t let himself want it. But here… here it waited for him.

Her breathing was slow and even, lashes fanned against her cheeks, one hand curled beneath her chin.

He moved quietly, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he settled behind her. She stirred—just a little—but didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t need to. Her body curved instinctively back into his.

“Mm,” You murmured, barely a whisper. “Thought I felt you…”

Jason’s voice was rough, low against your ear. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Liar.” Your voice was sleep-drenched, teasing. “You always do.”

He let his arm curl around your waist, pulling you close until your back was flush against his chest, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck.

“Riddler’s out of the picture,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Gotham’s quiet… for now.”

You smiled against the pillow, but it was fleeting—because a heartbeat later, you moved.

With a slow arch of your spine and a shift of muscle, you rolled, tossing your leg over his hip in one fluid, practiced motion that had him flat on his back before he could blink. You were straddling him now, perched above with that smug, lazy grin he’d come to recognize—and maybe dread just a little.

“Which means,” you purred, voice low and velvet-rich, “it’s time for you to pay up.”

Jason huffed out a breath that was half laugh, half groan. “You made that up,” he muttered, eyes narrowing like he was trying not to smile. “You spun that whole ‘transactional intel’ stuff just so my brothers wouldn’t find out about us.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as your fingertips ghosted over his chest—trailing from the dip of his collarbone to the ridges of muscle, your nails skimming along the old scar just over his heart, making him twitch. “Doesn’t matter,” you whispered, leaning down so your lips brushed the corner of his jaw. “You agreed to the terms.”

Your voice dropped to a sultry murmur, wicked with promise. “And what I want… is you. All to myself. For the next few days. No patrol. No Bat drama. Just you. That’s how this works, baby.”

His arms encircled you before you could fully retreat, keeping you flush against him. One hand tangled into your hair, possessive and grounding, while the other slid along your thigh, reverent and slow, stopping just beneath the hem of his shirt that barely covered you.

“You’re a menace,” he murmured, voice husky now, low and warm.

“Guilty,” you breathed, lips brushing against his.

And then he pulled you down.

The kiss wasn’t hurried. Deep and warm, burning slow and sure as his hand tightened in your hair and yours slid along his ribs. You melted into him like you always did.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to press his forehead against yours. His voice was barely more than a breath.

“You know you always have me to yourself.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “Good. Because I don’t share.”

Jason smirked, voice low and rough. “Wouldn’t let you if you tried.”

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Shingo Kimura and Konoha Shinden ready to make Sasuke Retsuden manga:

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Sasosaku Month 2024 Day 2- The Point of No Return

My first entry for the Sasosaku Month event I am hosting with @aprito on here/the Sasosaku discord server. This is my latest chapter of my fic, A Second Chance, Chapter 70! Very excited to be drawing again! To read my entire update, start at Chapter 66.

I have been doing brain therapy to get rid of this phantom pain in my arm, and it's working wonders! I plan to continue to draw little things like this until I'm back to 100%

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sasosaku fic masterlist

The time has come (and we have procrastinated long enough) to make a list of recent sasosaku fics.

The fics are sorted by rating (G-T, M-E, dd) and length, and we included the key tags for easier navigation. Some fics are in other languages.

P.S. The list is far from complete, so if you have a rec, dm or send an ask <3

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the bet — jason todd

synopsis. it’s harder to keep your relationship with jason a secret from the world's greatest detectives than you thought. (3 times each wayne family member tries to prove that you and jason are together and 1 time they actually do.)

notes. ooc. tooth. rotting. fluff. like 3k words of it and im sick. my first time writing for jason ever yay!

“You know, if you stare any harder, you might actually burn a hole through her head.”

Dick’s teasing voice slices through the comfortable silence between the two brothers, save for the distant sirens and the low hum of Gotham’s never-ending nightlife below them. They’re perched on a rooftop across from an upscale bar, the neon sign casting a soft glow on their suits. Through the massive glass windows, you sit at the bar, leaning in with an easy, disarming laugh as the suspect, some sleazy drug trafficker falls right into your trap.

Jason, crouched beside Dick with his elbows on his knees, grumbles beneath his mask. “I’m not staring.”

Dick lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Right. Then I must be hallucinating.”

“I thought we got you checked out for that already,” Jason shoots back, his voice sharp.

Dick winces, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Low blow.”

“It was pretty funny.”

Dick doesn’t argue, just settles into a knowing silence, watching as Jason’s hand unconsciously flexes against the holster at his hip.

Jason exhales through his nose, his jaw ticking. “I don’t understand why she has to flirt to get intel. We could just beat the answers out of these guys. Hell, we’d probably get it faster.”

The older vigilante shakes his head. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘covert op’ like bashing heads through walls.” His voice is light, but his eyes flicker to the way Jason’s fingers tighten around the grip of his gun. “Relax. Your sweetheart can handle herself.”

Jason freezes, but only for a fraction of a second. His heart, though, does that annoying thing where it skips a beat, both traitorous and stupid.

Your sweetheart.

Not that anyone knew. Not that anyone could know. As much as he wanted to grab you by the waist and kiss you breathless after missions, he wasn’t about to hand his family more ammunition for their relentless teasing.

Dick, for one, was proving exactly why this relationship stayed a secret.

The silence should have been Jason’s first warning. The way Dick just sits there, absently swinging a batarang between his fingers, watching the bar with an all-too-pleased expression.

“You know,” Dick hums, as if lost in thought, “it’s important to let that special someone know how you feel. Your twin flame. That one person you’ve been pining over since– oh, I don’t know, your youth.”

Jason doesn’t move.

Dick pauses for dramatic effect, then casually props his chin in his hand, his gaze flicking to Jason. A slow grin tugs at his lips.

“Hm. You’re blushing.”

Jason’s breath stills. His eyes snap to Dick, but his head remains stubbornly forward.

“I am not blushing.” His voice is gritted steel. “And I haven’t been pining over her for that long.”

Dick tilts his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Huh. Funny.” He leans back with an exaggerated stretch. “I never said who.”

Jason’s fists clench.

Damn it.

His mask covered his whole damn face. There was no way Dick could have seen a blush, no way he could have known.

Jason grits his teeth as realization dawns.

He walked right into that.

Like a lovesick fool.

The next time Jason’s nearly caught is at one of Bruce’s galas.

Jason had grumbled and rolled his eyes when you insisted on attending—something about not wanting to spend the night in a “stuffy ass ballroom pretending to care about Gotham’s elite.” You had countered that it was for a good cause, something you actually cared about, and that Bruce would appreciate the support. Begrudgingly, he agreed.

But, of course, he couldn’t just let you go without making things complicated.

“Matching colors,” Tim observes, arms crossed, his sharp blue gaze flickering between you and Jason.

You school your expression into something neutral. Jason, standing entirely too close to you, does no such thing.

“What a coincidence,” Tim drawls, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It really was,” you force out a laugh, silently screaming at Jason for his careless mistake.

He had seen your dress before the gala, made a gruff noise of disapproval, and then—without a single word—had left only to return an hour later with a tie in the exact same deep shade of red.

You had almost thrown a shoe at him.

As endearing as the gesture should have been, it was infuriating. He was the one insisting that your relationship remain under wraps, but he was awful at hiding it.

Right now, you can practically feel his warmth radiating onto you, his fingers twitching at his side, itching to settle on your waist. His entire presence screams possessive, yet he’s standing there trying to play it cool.

“Right, Jay?” you prompt, hoping begging he plays along.

“Total accident,” he deadpans.

You mentally facepalm. He is not selling it.

Tim’s smirk deepens, thriving off Jason’s obvious discomfort.

“Well then,” Tim shrugs, barely suppressing his amusement. “If she’s not your date, do you mind if I steal a dance?”

Jason’s shoulders tense. His jaw clenches so tight you’re surprised his teeth don’t crack.

“Go ahead.”

His tone is flat, but you know better. His hands may be in his pockets, but you can see them clenched into fists. His entire body is rigid, like he’s forcing himself to not grab your wrist and pull you back to his side.

You want to laugh. It’s so obvious.

Tim takes your hand and whisks you away onto the dance floor before Jason can change his mind.

He’s is a smooth dancer, you’ll give him that. He moves with confidence, leading you effortlessly through the slow, sweeping steps of the waltz. The ballroom around you is a blur of glittering gowns and dark suits, the music swelling in a soft, romantic rhythm.

You try to focus on the dance, but you can feel Jason’s stare.

It’s burning into you from across the room, a weight against your spine that makes your pulse spike.

Tim notices. Of course, he does.

“I know I have a grand total of one song before your guard dog comes back,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly as he spins you. His fingers press lightly against your back, his mouth close to your ear. “So, between you and me… you can just tell me if you’re dating.”

You groan. “Why is everyone so obsessed with this?”

Tim pulls back just enough to give you a pointed look. “Because the two of you have been dancing around each other for years. I’m in pain just watching.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Buzz off and focus on your own romantic life, Drake.”

Tim just grins. “Yours is so much more interesting.” He spins you gracefully, his smirk growing as he catches sight of Jason still watching. Still fuming.

He tugs you back in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “So tell me… are the two of you together? Because I’ve been sensing–”

“You’ve been sensing jack shit, Drake.”

The voice is low, sharp, and pissed.

You barely have time to process Jason’s arrival before you feel a hand—his hand—on your waist, warm and grounding and claiming.

Tim barely gets a breath out before Jason smoothly steps in, seamlessly taking his place as if he had planned this from the start. His movements are precise, natural, possessive. The transition is so smooth it’s like the dance was meant to end like this—with you in his arms.

Tim watches, looking utterly delighted.

“Wow,” he muses. “Not even a full song? Possessive much?”

Jason doesn’t acknowledge him. His grip on you tightens, and you feel his breath against your temple as he leans in just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You should step back. You should do something to break the illusion.

But you don’t.

Because his hand is on your waist, his other hand holding yours just right. His body is solid and warm against you, moving with you effortlessly like he was made for this. The scent of leather lingers on him, comforting and intoxicating.

He is looking at you like you are the only person in the room.

And you don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until he speaks.

“I don’t like how low his hands were.”

The words are gritted out, low and quiet, meant just for you.

Your heart stumbles. You should not find that as attractive as you do.

“Jason–”

He exhales sharply through his nose. “He knows. He’s just trying to het under my skin.”

You blink up at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Jay, it was just a dance.”

His fingers flex against your waist.

Your breath catches in your throat. The words send something electric through you, something dangerous. You don’t have time to respond.

Because Tim, damn Tim, is still standing there, watching the whole exchange with way too much satisfaction.

“Well,” he muses, rocking back on his heels. “That was interesting.”

Jason finally acknowledges him by glowering in his direction.

“Get lost, Drake.”

Tim grins. Because while he may not have gotten a confession, he definitely got confirmation.

After your encounter with Tim, you and Jason had agreed to lay extra low. No unnecessary risks, no slip-ups. No feeding into their suspicions. That plan, of course, went up in flames, quite literally when you almost lost a damn arm.

Jason had nearly lost his mind.

Now, standing in the training room with Cassandra, you tug absentmindedly at the hem of your sleeve, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your arm.

Cass, however, does not.

“That’s one nasty burn,” she winces, crouching slightly to get a better look at the angry, blistering wound.

You shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “It’s nothing, really,” you say, waving a dismissive hand. “I was just reaching into the oven to grab some muffins, and my arm accidentally hit the hot rack.”

Jason, standing beside you with his arms crossed, snorts.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Told you to be careful this morning.”

The second the words leave his mouth, his body goes rigid. His eyes widen slightly, realizing his mistake.

Shit.

Cass doesn’t even blink before zeroing in.

“What was that?”

Jason schools his expression into mock confusion. “What was what?”

“Don’t play coy, Todd.” Cass’s voice is sharp, her dark eyes locked onto him with an intensity that could crack glass.

Jason ever so stubborn and entirely unwilling to admit defeat, doesn’t back down.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He doesn’t flinch.

Cass tilts her head, unconvinced. “I heard the two of you were on patrol pretty late last night.” Her gaze flickers between you and Jason, noting every shift in body language, every subtle tell. “So tell me, Todd… what were you doing with [Name] this morning too? Did you, perhaps, sleep together?”

Silence.

The tension in the room thickens, settling over you like an impending storm. Your pulse spikes. Jason’s jaw locks. Cass’s eyes remain unmoving, sharp as a blade.

The stalemate stretches too long.

Before Cass can press further, you jump in.

“What Jason meant,” you say quickly, forcing an easy laugh, “is that our patrol ended at around six in the morning. I invited him over for a snack, is all.”

You will her to believe it.

Jason exhales subtly beside you, relaxing ever so slightly at your quick save.

Cass, however, is not satisfied.

“You never invite me over for snacks,” she states, arms crossing over her chest.

You frown. “I’m sorry, Cass. How about next time?”

She considers for a moment, expression unreadable, before nodding.

“I’ll be there at sunrise.”

You smile, nudging her shoulder. “It’s a deal.”

Cass eyes the two of you for another long second before finally, finally, grabbing her bag and exiting the room.

The moment the door clicks shut, Jason lets out a heavy breath.

Without warning, his large frame topples over yours, his solid weight pressing against your back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he mutters, lips brushing the sensitive skin near your ear. His voice is low, gravelly, full of something raw and unguarded.

His arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him.

You bite back a smile, leaning into his warmth.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His lips graze the nape of your neck, lingering.

“Not nearly enough,” you murmur.

It’s a lie.

Because Jason tells you every single day.

If not with his words, then with the way he looks at you. With the way he touches you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. With the way he freaks out over every little injury, over every near miss, like the thought of losing you would be enough to unmake him.

And God, if he wasn’t so damn obvious about it.

Your charade finally comes to an end on a rare night. The entire family gathered around the Wayne Manor dining table. It had taken weeks of convincing, countless rescheduled plans, and Alfred’s unshakable will to make it happen. You silently applaud him, watching as he moves seamlessly around the table, topping off glasses and making sure everyone eats.

The conversation is lively but controlled, an unspoken agreement hanging in the air: no fights. Bruce was actually eating rather than brooding, Damian had only thrown out two insults so far, and Tim was at least half-awake. For a Wayne family dinner, this was practically peaceful.

No one notices that you and Jason are sitting a little too close, they’re all too engrossed with the hearty meal and a rare opportunity of having a civil conversation with each other.

Jason, ever the attentive boyfriend, wordlessly reaches for the serving platter and places another thick slice of roast onto your plate. Then, he carefully spoons asparagus onto your dish, making sure it’s coated just enough with hollandaise sauce just the way you like it.

“Eat up, sweetheart.” His voice is low and smooth, meant just for you.

Your heart does a little flutter at the name, and your lips tug into a smile as you pick up your fork.

But then a familiar voice turns the entire night around.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” Damian’s voice cuts through the table, as sharp as one of his throwing knives, “but doesn’t ‘sweetheart’ have romantic implications?”

Silence.

A few forks hover mid-air. Bruce pauses as he cuts into his steak. Dick, who had been talking to Cass, freezes mid-sentence. Tim, who had been half-heartedly scrolling through his phone under the table, suddenly looks very awake.

“No, you’re absolutely right,” Dick leans back in his chair, grinning like he just hit the jackpot. His eyes flicker with amusement as he clasps his hands together. 

Jason’s chewing slows. Your eyes flicker to his face, trying to gauge his reaction. This was it. The moment he always dreaded.

“Todd just called [Last Name] ‘sweetheart,’” Damian supplies, ever helpful, pointing at the two of you with his fork.

Cass and Tim share a knowing glance, both nodding in quiet confirmation.

Dick gapes. “In front of my salad?”

Jason, rather than looking panicked, looks entirely unbothered. Too unbothered. His jaw moves as he stuffs another carrot into his mouth, chews deliberately, and then–

“It’s our one-year anniversary next month.”

Chaos erupts.

“WHAT?”

“I KNEW IT!”

“Called it.”

“Took you guys long enough!”

Tim smacks the table, rattling the silverware. Dick throws his hands in the air. Cass laughs silently, shaking her head as if she’s just been vindicated after months of waiting.

Stephanie, meanwhile, grabs Tim’s arm and shakes him. “You owe me fifty-bucks, Drake.”

Bruce, to his credit, looks unfazed, save for the slight twitch of his eyebrow. He sets his knife down and looks at Jason with a measured expression.

“Well done, son.”

Jason stares at him for a moment before giving him a single nod, as if they’re discussing business strategy rather than his romantic relationship.

You’re still flustered under the sheer weight of all the attention, but then Jason’s fingers interlace with yours under the table. Warm. Steady. Protective. He gives your hand a light squeeze, and just like that, your nerves settle.

The chatter continues, voices overlapping.

“I suppose that means I won the bet?”

The room stills.

Jason’s head snaps up. “Wait. What?”

Tim, not even looking ashamed, shrugs. “Technically, nobody won. We all knew already.”

Damian scowls. “The condition was that someone had to prove it. I did that tonight. Therefore, I win.”

Jason straightens in his chair, voice dangerously low. “Hold on. You had a bet?!”

You grimace, bracing yourself as the night takes a turn.

Tim leans back in his chair, smirking. “Oh, yeah. This has been going for months.”

“How much?” Jason demands, his eyes narrowing.

Dick, grinning, raises his glass. “A hundred bucks.”

Jason turns to you, betrayed. “Did you know about this?”

You shake your head furiously. “I would’ve rigged it to win if I had.”

“Unbelievable,” Jason mutters, rubbing his temples.

But then he feels your thumb brush gently over his knuckles, and suddenly, the noise fades into the background. He turns to you, the frustration melting from his features as he takes in the warmth of your smile, the way your eyes are only on him.

You squeeze his hand. “Well,” you say softly, just for him. “At least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Jason exhales a low chuckle, shaking his head before turning to you fully. There’s adoration in his eyes, open and raw and entirely unguarded. His lips form the silent words, ‘I love you,’ and though no sound escapes, you hear it in the way his eyes soften, in the way his fingers tighten just slightly around yours. Your breath catches, warmth blooming in your chest, and without thinking, you smile radiantly, mirroring the love on his face.

thank you for reading! comments n reblogs are appreciated 💋

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LET GO — ROBERT REYNOLDS

✦ bob reynolds x reader, 1.5k

✦ cw: thunderbolts* spoilers, implied that they all live in the avengers tower, reader is an avenger/thunderbolt, bob has nightmares of past trauma, hurt/comfort

✦ summary: bob always avoided you, and you had no idea why — till the night you help him out of a frenzy.

Bob was a strange guy.

You knew little about him, only as much as Bucky had told you. You’d been told all about his strange powers as The Void, how his dark side had taken a hold of him that day in New York. You’d seen the footage. You knew how scary he could become.

Yet, you couldn’t believe it.

You couldn’t believe that someone like Bob, who sometimes didn’t know left from right, with his soft eyes and softer yet smiles, was capable of something like that.

Trying to get to know him was frustrating. You’d been pursuing him ever since you moved into the tower, and it was almost like trying to catch water between your hands. He somehow managed to slip away every time you tried to make conversation, pinkened cheeks and spools of excuses dangling out his mouth.

If he wasn’t busy doing whatever else needed his attention, then it felt as though he was being held at gunpoint to talk to you – curt replies and eyes darting all over, muscles twitching like he physically had to get out of there. He was evasive. Annoying. Exhausting.

You didn’t know why, and couldn’t figure it out. Couldn’t figure him out. It was starting to get on your nerves, then, because why were you chasing after someone who didn’t want to be known? It was time to give up. If Bob wasn’t going to make an effort to talk, neither were you.

“Every time!” you grumble, begrudgingly nodding in thanks as Bucky hands you a mug of coffee. You take a sip of the bitter liquid, letting it wash over your tongue. “Every single time I try to talk to him, he avoids me like the plague. I’m starting to think he hates me.”

Bucky sighs, reaching across the table to pat your hand consolingly. “Maybe you just need to give him some time.”

“I’ve given him enough.”

“Methinks,” Alexei pipes up from across the room, flopping across the couch like a starfish, “that this is love. Young love, you know? Can never get past the anxie-titty.”

“Anxiety,” Ava corrects. She grabs Bucky’s mug from his hand as she walks by, earning an annoyed grunt as she plops herself down on the other end of the couch. “But honestly, — slurp — I agree. I think Bob just has a little crush.”

You roll your eyes, frustration growing by the second. “Yeah, of course. Bob definitely has a crush on me.”

Bucky snorts. “Exactly!” Alexei nods, lighting up as the sarcasm flies right over his head. “You got it. This girl is smart, I tell you. Very smart, quick learner.”

“And you’re the exact opposite,” Ava deadpans.

She smirks as Alexei’s face scrunches up in confusion, Bucky coughing in an attempt to keep a straight face. You crack a smile.

You groan and push your face further into your pillow. The heat that night was sweltering, almost suffocating, and the air conditioning had gone off again — Walker and his inability to remember to pay the bills.

You felt everything acutely; rough blanket on your skin, sweat between your toes, hot breath on your upper lip. It was overwhelming.

“This,” you grumble, rolling over and shrugging your blanket off, “must’ve been why his wife left him. Asshole.” You rub your eyes and sit up, deciding that you might as well try the couch. More ventilation out there.

Your blanket trails behind you like a cape as you open the door. Faint pieces of moonlight scatter across the floor, lighting up the hallway. It was just enough for you to walk your way to the living room.

You pause at the sight of a silhouette on the couch, a quiet huff escaping you. It seemed like you weren’t the only one with this idea.

As you move closer, it’s strikingly obvious who the culprit was — messy curls, Spongebob blanket, arms wrapped around himself. Bob.

You bite your tongue. You’re about to feel annoyed, about to let that anger wash over you again. Avoiding you wasn’t enough, he had to steal your one chance at proper sleep too?

Then you hear it.

His labored breathing, incoherent mumbles. You frown, unconsciously softening as you inch closer.

“Please,” he whimpers. You swallow. His hands twitch around his torso, and you get the strange urge to hold them. His eyes are squeezed so tight you wonder if it hurts. “Please don’t… don’t yell at me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You watch helplessly as he repeats the apology again and again. His face is contorted in some kind of anguish, muscles tense with fear. You think you can hear the sound of your heart breaking.

You reach out, hesitating before you place your hand on his shoulder and give a little shake. “Bob?”

“No!” he cries out hoarsely as he flinches away. You retract immediately, startled. “No, don’t hurt me… don’t hurt me.” His hands fly up to shield his face, fingers trembling where they cover his eyes. “I didn’t do it, I swear. Please, don’t hurt me.”

A pang of sadness twists in your chest. You knew what it felt like, to be haunted by what you’ve done, every one of you did. Nightmares of people you’ve killed, people you couldn’t save. They kept you awake at night.

But to experience something being done to you, someone hurting you all over again, was another hell entirely.

You straighten up. You had to try harder.

Your hands find Bob’s shoulders again, this time attempting to pull him up into a sitting position. He shrieks weakly, he trashes against your hold, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

His nails dig into your skin. “Stop! Stop, you’re hurting me. Let go of me.” You shake your head, tugging his blanket off with one hand as you hold him up with the other.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bob. And I’m not letting go,” you murmur. “You’re okay, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”

“Let go,” he says again, weaker. His grip on your wrists slackens as he heaves. “Let go of me.”

“No. I’m not letting go.” You swallow. “I’m here, and I’m not letting go of you. You need to wake up. You’re safe here.”

All it takes is another hard jolt.

His eyes fly open, flaahing in panic before they lock on you. “I — what —“

You pull away. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You’re okay. You just had a nightmare.”

His breathing doesn’t slow, and you realise that it’s not you he’s afraid of, it’s himself. You soften. “Hey, Bob. Bob. Come on, look at me.”

His fear-filled eyes find yours, eyebrows furrowed like he’s trying to find a reason not to run away. You gently take his wrist and place his palm on your chest. “I need you to breathe, okay? Breathe with me.”

You take an exaggerated breath, exhaling through your lips. You see the mental struggle, the internal battle of deciding whether or not he can trust you.

He stares at you for a moment. Then, he starts to follow along.

Relieved, you continue. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Till the shakiness is gone, wheezes turning into breaths. Till he’s calmed down.

You squeeze his wrist for good measure. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he exhales quietly, dropping his hand from your chest. His body relaxes the slightest bit. “Yeah, sorry.”

You shake your head, lips curving upwards. “No need to apologise. I’m glad you’re okay.” You move to sit next to him, knees bumping against the other’s.

He swallows and looks down at his hands, cheeks turning their usual shade of pink. Thank god.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, though,” he says, voice coloured with sheepishness. He scratches his neck, refusing to look at you. “Must’ve been… weird.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, placing your hand on his knee. He lets out an embarrassed squeak. “Bob, seriously. It was just a nightmare, it happens.” You rub his knee reassuringly, tone fond. “Nothing shameful or weird about it, okay?”

It takes a second, but he nods. He dares to make eye contact with you, head tilting upwards like a shy puppy. “Um, yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, okay.”

Now you understand what Alexei and Ava were on about.

“Do you think you’re gonna be able to go back to sleep?” you ask kindly, fingers continuing their ministrations on his knee. “Or do you wanna talk for a bit?”

He doesn’t move his leg away. You watch as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows knitting together as he ponders almost adorably.

“Talk?” he says unsurely after a beat, turning to you. “I mean, if that’s okay. If not, then —“

“It’s okay,” you say, half amused, half comforting. “Completely okay.”

And that’s when you get to know Bob. He was finally making an effort to talk, and so were you.

“I told you!” you hear Alexei whisper scandalously the next morning, at the sight of your hand in Bob’s lap and his head on your shoulder. “I was right, he has a crush. And she is crushing too, little rascal.”

You pretend you didn’t hear, and hope no one notices your smile.

[cecesilver]

The Temp, Series

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 (Coming soon!)

[cecesilver]

‘Talk to you’ by Ricky Montgomery is very Bob to me.

Like imagine Bob is just starting at you from afar, wishing he could muster up the strength to talk to you without tripping over his words, without feeling like he’s making an idiot out of himself, which he could just be normal enough to hold a civil conversation with you without looking like a lovesick puppy.

Yet his feet remain unmoving, his body stiff and unwilling to do what he oh so desperately wanted to do so effortlessly in one of his rare dreams, he looked awkward and out of place within a room of people who could easily upstart a conversation without needing to try. In bobs eyes you certainly didn’t as you talked to Yelena, Ava and Alexei with ease and expressive hand gestures, keeping their attention on you and never once wavering under their gazes as though it all came as naturally as breathing to you.

Him however? He’s wavering and losing confidence the second you glance at him, just as his mind in that moment fills with all the memories of whenever you looked his way, or just simply waved at him and smiling when he waves back dumbly. He’s seconding guessing himself the moment he’s under the gaze of others and wishes he could disappear into the ground, or cease to exist then and there as he internally berates himself for not being as social as you or the rest of the group. Yet Bob still wishes he could just pull up next to you and talk as though there was nothing more important to do, wasting away the day listening to your voice as it soothes him into easing up and going with the flow instead of the internal script he was so keen to follow to the last detail.

He wanted to be as free flowing as you were but knew he couldn’t, and so instead he stands awkwardly and out of place from afar as his mind floods with thoughts and feelings towards you, wondering if he’ll ever muster up the courage to just walk on right up to you and actually speak instead of nervously fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater, hoping you’d notice him without him having to do anything to garner your attention.

He just wishes he could talk to you.

[cecesilver]

how do they love? | ffvii | slight nsfw blurbs too..

ᯓ CLOUD STRIFE’s love is subtle — in a way that the naked eye can’t recognize, only the fluttering in your stomach able to distinguish his feelings. to stand so close to him; enough to feel body heat radiating, is a privilege only given to you — words left unsaid, but always heard.

cloud’s not so physically affectionate, especially in public. he doesn’t do candlelit dinners with wine and sweet nothings, or slinging an arm over your shoulder to press you to his side. but when he comes home after a long day with tifa and the rest of avalanche, dark trails of marks littering his arms and back, he comes to you for patching up.

though it takes a long time for cloud to accept the love you truly have for him (and a lot of late nights spent bickering because he doesn’t want to bother you with the wound he can’t get on his back) — one night, he sits on your bed and wordlessly hands you supplies. his eyes can’t tear away from your soft smile and dreary eyes.

he’s grateful for your patience at his awkwardness. cloud hasn’t exactly had much experience with relationships, and not the best for the ones he did have. he means well; although his words come out strained, like the molasses didn’t come up his mouth right and instead sticks to his incisors, the sweetness of his tone absent and replaced with something almost confused. you reassure him it’s okay, that it’s okay to not say anything. he always wonders how you always know what to say to him and instead lets his hand rub circles into your wrist as a response.

and when you lay at night, he’s subtle too. his soft breaths muffled into the crook of your neck as you mewl quietly, soft words spewed through your lips between sighs. he asks you a question and your brain’s so fuzzy you almost can’t hear it, until you feel fingers hook into your waistband, perched there until he asks you again.

his eyes’ll always find you in a room until your own pair meet his — only then does he look away. he can always find you, from a laugh in a crowded room or from your quiet sobs behind the bathroom door. cloud finds comfort in these moments because he didn’t have anyone to lean on like this. he only hopes you’ll find comfort in it, too.

ᯓ ZACK FAIR’s love is boyish — rosy smiles with crinkled eyes, only starlight in them at the way you compliment his technique in battle. proud hands on his hips as he clears his throat with a confident, “yeah? oh, yeah! maybe i’ll teach you sometime!”

when he’s not training under angeal and so busy all the time, being a SOLDIER and all, spending time with you is one of the main ways he shows affection. a hand in yours while the other holds a cup of ice cream, prattling on about how he couldn’t wait to come home; looking over to you once you laugh behind your hand, a grin on his face and a bump of your hip is all he needs and he’d die a happy man.

zack will kiss your tears away and cup your face in his hands, looking down on you with only the softest of gazes. he’ll listen to you talk the same way you listen to him — always. it’s a mutual thing between you two and zack sees nothing but equality in your relationship; so when he’s pulling you close to his chest with a hand on the back of your head, he’ll stand there until his legs hurt and your voice gives out.

he’ll do anything you ask — talk with you, listen to you, pass by the food stall for your favorite on the way home, anything to make you feel better. he’ll even stand there for hours, rubbing circles into your back — cracking only a few jokes to hear the soft rumble in your body, letting a small chuckle of his own slip in.

at night, he’s quick with it even with the hand that cradles the back of your neck; a soft gesture even while he’s rolling his hips harshly and pressing his lips against your own, feeling the smile that breaks out on both his and your face. he can’t help but wanna get closer to you, until your brains meld together with the sweat on your skin and the moon on your faces.

zack smells of citrus and the ground outside; and he can never quite get rid of it. especially since you start using the same body wash and pitter patter along outside to hug him goodbye. he walks away with a grin, his pulse quickening and his stomach tightening with the thought of you.

ᯓ SEPHIROTH’s love is quiet — murmured upon the top of your head where it travels through the flesh and fires your neurons, a softness oozing inside of you. a soft hand at the curve of your lower back, guiding you where he needs you to go, perhaps subconsciously. perceptively eyeing any habits you have; like holding a pencil between your teeth or stumbling over your feet — maybe a few low, playful remarks, too.

he writes you everyday when he’s on long missions. they’re usually short, but the length doesn’t matter compared to the content that’s within them, sweet letters across the page in small handwriting, signed off with his initials at the bottom and the scent of warm leather alongside it.

the warmth of seph’s skin is foreign when you’re so used to his gloves. when he takes them off, it’s a nice change of pace as you can finally feel his skin as he can yours. he’ll come home from dinner, taking off his arm and unsheathing himself for the day — he’s bare and belly-up but seph figures it’s okay as long as it’s you he’s with. he gives a small kiss to your forehead, delicate and careful, as he asks about your day over dinner; and as the lights comes through, glaring at you through the cracks of windows, you tell him.

he’ll talk about you to his friends; angeal and genesis practically rolling their eyes the next time they hear about you. he merely crosses his arms and goes on about you even further to annoy them. what can he say? you have a special place in his mind, inhabiting it 24/7.

sephiroth’s a quiet lover at heart, even while you got your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in closer. his breathing only becomes heavier and you worry he doesn’t feel as good until you involuntarily clench around him; his lashes fluttering with a sudden groan. you crack a grin and he puffs an amused breath through his nose before he leans over you, your pupils dilating at his whispers.

he lies back and lets his eyes flutter close at night. he knows that you only have to press your ear to his chest to hear your name rather than a heartbeat. he only hopes you know, too.

ᯓ ANGEAL HEWLEY’s love is wholehearted — because he figures; why do something if you’re not going to give it your all? angeal doesn’t date often, if at all. he was hesitant to date you only because this relationship with you and his relationship with work would probably be imbalanced and while he did find you attractive both inside and out, he wanted to establish a bond of trust between the two of you before going any further.

angeal is very careful with his love, another perceptive one. even as sleep pulls at his eyelids and a yawn threatens to escape his throat, he will always come home to you and ask how your day’s been, how you’re doing, everything before falling asleep. a soft smile tugs at his lips when he hears you ask the same, following him to the bedroom after the both of you packed and stowed away leftovers. he respects equality and trust within your relationship as well and tries his hardest to maintain a healthy relationship through and through.

he’ll send you lengthy letters full of promises and sweet words, awaiting the day when he comes back home from his longer missions. he’ll tell you about zack, about genesis’ antics, about the dumbapples in his village. he’ll even take you to see them, if you’d like. angeal is also very old fashioned — insisting that you meet his mother and that he asks your parents (or friends) for your hand in marriage when it comes to it.

while not into pda as much, there are times where he’ll sit with you outside and just bask in your presence. hand in his, he’ll turn away to hide the subtlety of his growing smile but only hopes that you don’t hide yours. quality time is especially important to angeal — whenever he has free time to spare, he always spends it with you. a freshly baked cookie; gooey on the inside and crispy on the outside.

angeal is very loving at night, too. though preferring to let you do your own thing unless told otherwise, he is just a sucker for missionary, only because he just wants your space in his; just so you two can clutch onto each other, pulsing excitement threatening to tear a tendon as you both murmur out praises that only make his hips stutter and tilt upward.

as a boy, knee scraped and tears brimming in his eyes, his father told him that something gold waited for angeal. he only truly believed it when he met you, and now everything’s turned to gold.

ᯓ GENESIS RHAPSODOS’ love is poetic — and no, not just because he reads poetry, but because the way he shows his love is almost like a dream. bordering on the brink of a fairytale will genesis’ love be displayed, almost a bit cliché.

obviously he is a first class SOLDIER as well, and balancing all the work he is and public appearances (and his fan club..), he doesn’t want to make you feel neglected! so he’ll come to your home and just want to relax. but at least, he gets to do it with you. waiting for you to finish reading before he turns a page in a book you both have your noses in, until you eventually fall asleep — he resists the urge to keep reading and instantly marks the page, shutting the book altogether and pressing his lips to your forehead in a kiss goodnight.

will also write you letters when he’s far away! (yes, he might be a little sad if he doesn’t get one back) — but the type to do it the most though, as he prefers pen to paper than a call away. yes, he makes sure to kiss the letter before he sends it off. he thinks it helps it navigate itself to you and ensures that it doesn’t get lost. you laugh it off but surprisingly none of your letters have ever gotten lost in the mail. . .

also one to take you to banora to see the dumbapples — he’ll tell you of fond memories and the smell of floral days and sugar slowly creep up on you, and you both smile at it. it might take genesis a while to unfold his secrets, but he’d like to be shown bare with you, nothing hidden. he just doesn’t know how. if you gently clasp his hands and look him in the eye, expressing how okay everything will be even if he doesn’t tell you, you’ve got his hand in marriage.

so talkative even when it’s just the two of you in bed; he’s confident while he’s grinding into you, whispering sweet nothings to you and occasionally laughing at an expression you make. he can’t help but tease you even in your most vulnerable moments. he’ll place two fingers on either side of your jaw and tilt your head up to just look at him — that’s all he wants you to see as you cum. he may be a little possessive.. who knows??

genesis is a lover who shows you that the world is a beautiful place, and that you are but a beautiful piece of nature in this place. he’ll tell you that the wind whispers sweet messages for you, that the sun calls each day wishing to look upon your face, that the ocean sings in its waves in a song just for you — that it’s all for you.

ᯓ RENO’s love is teasing — laughing at you when he has to catch you when you trip, flicking your forehead when you ask him a question you’ve already asked. it’s all lighthearted though, you know it deep down. he’s catlike, one who’ll knock a mug over just to see you scramble to try and catch it or lay across your lap while you’re working.

being a turk also has its downsides for when he’s away from you. he won’t call or write, but reno can never stay away from you for too long or else rude’ll have to endure more of his complaining about the mission being too long. a real whiner, he is. even when he comes home; if you try to give him a hug, he’ll scoff and “try to push you away” which ends up being more like pawing at you instead. oh no, what a predicament he’s in . . whatever will he dooo. . .

he’s much more protective in public or when you’re around friends which is the most you’ll get. his love language is being annoying unfortunately. reno’s not into romantic stuff like that either, no candlelit dinners or dancing in the moonlight. stereotypical romance isn’t for him — even if you try to ask for it.

instead, he’ll wriggle his way behind you when you’re half asleep, nosing his way into your neck as he just . . lays there. he’s got a bruised rib and a wrapped gash across his leg, but he’ll still let you latch onto him when you’re sleeping, as tight as you can — or something, i guess. he doesn’t care. (he totally does).

he tries to act like he knows what he’s doing but reno’s thrusts are a little clumsy, paired with staggered breaths and starved kisses. a hand on his cheek and a soft look in your eyes, though. that’s all he needs before he’s holding back the urge to cum and he kisses you to swallow the whine in the back of his throat.

reno’s love is playful and albeit a little frustrating; but when you feel him reach over to you in the middle of the night for your hand, everything feels right.

taglist ; @xiansiii @alieeelinn @ch3rryfiles @akerasia @meowieesilly @snoopicle

requests are open - april thirteenth, 2025

[cecesilver]

reconnection

SUMMARY ➤ You've been longing for Robert Reynolds for seven years now. No matter how hard you try to let him go, your heart refuse to do so but after a weird moment of being trapped in your own nightmare, you finally found Robert. On a local news along side with the new Avengers.

PAIRING ➤ Robert (Bob) Reynolds x fem! reader

GENRES ➤ Angsty with happy ending

WARNINGS ➤ THUNDERBOLTS* spoiler ahead A tiny part of suicidal scene, reader is in deression but no one's helping, and mention of drugs

WORDS COUNT ➤ 4k words

NOTES ➤ it took so long for one fic and i'm sorry about it!!! i thought i was ready to be back but i was so insecure of my writing to the point i've had to disregard my two enha's fic )): also it's so obvious that i already watched thunderbolts* ^^ the movie was so good i had to write for bob's character.

Soon after Robert announced that he is going somewhere to get himself on a track– nobody would even guess he would volunteer himself to an untrusted medical research. Presumming the naive man would surrender himself as soon as the doctor said it would turn him into a better man– he must have signed whatever papers given without having second thoughts.

While the blip was happening at the moment of his disappearance didn’t help much for your emotional strength. You always knew he was struggling. He tries to be better but at the end of the day, he cannot escape the household he’d been living in. You’re the only one who can truly see how hard it is to avoid all the drugs, leaning into a healthy life, to live a life without any disturbing surroundings. But he keeps coming back to square one. 

He always asked you to leave him once he relapsed, but you stood there, firmly. He was so sure you’re here because of sympathy and not because of him. He wants to believe in you but it’s not that easy because at the end of the day, he always ended up alone.

In late 2020– three years before The Avengers found a way to bring back half of the population, he had enough of this shit. He slowly began to realize that you’re here because you want to. The hopeful feeling slowly began to rise inside of him after so long. With his parents having been blipped, he finally can breathe. No more fights, screaming and sounds of hitting. He is lowkey on Thanos’s side in this war but keeps his mouth shut, you lost half of your family in the blip and he simply does not want to hurt you; the person whom he cares most about. 

He landed in Malaysia after hours on the air, his smiles wide, thinking of how he can be a better person after this project and how he can finally prove to everyone that he isn’t just a useless human being. Ah. the thoughts of your ‘I’m so proud of you, Robert” lingers in his mind. He would text you if his phone wasn't confiscated by the researcher, he assumes it would be hours of research and everything will change after that.

Robert soon curses at himself as soon as he hears that he is not the only volunteer they had, they all died during the trial but it is too late for him. He is trapped in the metal coffin that they put him in. He tried to scream and punch everything but it was all useless. Soon he feels the temperature slowly rising up and his body feels tense all of sudden scares him. At this moment he thought that staying alive would be the ideal prayer he can utter right now. He couldn’t die now, not with your face still haunting his thoughts.

His whole body started to ache, his energy slowed down and his scream got slower. His body can’t take whatever they gave him right now, but it looks like the thing is being forced down inside of his body. He cannot even wriggle in pain due to limited space, the only words he could utter at that moment was “Stop…” 

It's been seven years since Tony Stark sacrificed himself for the universe, and while you are grateful for him and the other Avengers, the void left by Robert’s absence weighs heavily on you as you grapple with uncertainty of his fate.

“You’re wasting yourself waiting for him” 

You try your best to move on. Your friends told you that a meth addict was better off without you anyway, you tried to ignore them but the pain of longing is much worse than you think. For seven years you couldn’t meet anyone to replace Robert, you can’t understand the exact reasons why your heart still longing for him, the probability of him died in some foreign country is high and you are ready to accept the fact that Robert is gone but your heart still couldn't fathom this ‘statement’.

“Maybe he was there somewhere…” is the only excuse you can give to your friends although deep down, you don’t even know what to expect anymore.

Your high hope of Robert make you all alone, your friends start to keep of their distances on you, your siblings seems to give up to support your stance of ‘Robert is there somewhere’ and your parents seems to accept that their daughter might suffers from some mental health problem but do nothing to help– they thought paying for psychiatrist and medications are waste of money if you still hoping for the man. 

And that’s when you decided you are better alone anyways. Starting your day in your rented apartment with leftover food from last night, settling into the couch that your sister handed down to you when she’s decided to move from New York and suddenly your surroundings turning black all of sudden. 

Your breathing unsteady at first, thinking that this is a dream– or did you depress enough to start hallucinating things? You gulped down your saliva, nonetheless you start walking– very slowly, searching for a starting point but all of the sudden the black scenery quickly turns into an airport. The day was sunny and there’s a lot of cars parked at the waiting area; it felt like a deja vu for a moment before you spotted two familiar figures hugging outside of your parents car. 

It was you and Robert. 

You walk closely with the two of you hugging. You tried to hold your tears but failed when you saw Robert’s face when he broke the hug.

“I’ll be back better than before, then we can talk about us. I promise you this time” Robert said with a gentle touch to your cheek before you both parted ways.

“Please don’t go…” you sobbed. Your voice trembling with desperation. But it was clear– you were invisible to them. As Robert’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance, the scene suddenly reset. Again, he turned to leave and once again your tears went unheard. You shook your head, whatever this was, it seems like you’re trapped in your own nightmare.

The repeated scene in front of you causes you to feel light headed, you walk away from the scene, hoping for a way out and suddenly you’re in your own bedroom. You sigh in relief, your heart still pounding fast from the strange experience you felt. You’re about to land on your bed before a sound of cries could be heard. You brows furrowed, searching for the source of the sound around the bedroom.

You gasped in silence when you saw yourself on the floor, on the other side of the bed. Staring blankly at the pills on your palm. 

You remember this moment, it was months after everyone returns from being a dust but not your Robert. It was tough for a few weeks, you can’t accept fate. There’s no news or phone call from him. You are tired of waiting for him after years of praying for him to come back in one piece. The pills on your palm was the answer, your soul is nowhere to be found, and maybe taking your own life would be ideal. 

“This is not the way…” you sobbed. 

The old version of yourself slowly turned to face you. A faint, almost bittersweet smile played on her lips as she raised the pills to her mouth and swallowed them in one gulp

“We are always alone” she whispered, the words echoing through the room like a curse carved into time. 

You stood frozen, powerless. Watching yourself spiral, watching the weight of silent suffering crush someone who was—still is—you. It was unbearable. The isolation, the desperation, the quiet resignation etched in her face—it made you feel small, fragile. Pathetic.

You screamed every name you could think of, mom, dad, your sister and even Robert. Hoping if anyone could hear your desperate hoarse voice even if it is a faint sound but to your dismay, there’s no answer. You ran through the endless corridors, searching, pleading for a way out just to find every door you opened led to another nightmares of your past. 

All of the painful memories greet you at every turn– echoes of moments you tried so hard to bury deep down in your head. It felt like you’d been running for hours, maybe even longer, your legs seemed to give out but you can’t give up just yet. The last thing you want is to die in the maze of your own sorrow and regret. 

Then without warning,  the darkness began to dissolve, the screams faded, the air lightened and the oppressive weight lifted.

And suddenly– you were back. Sitting on your couch, in your living room. Silence. 

Everything looks the same… but you weren’t.

It wasn’t long enough for the news of the New Avengers broke, soon after the chaos of ‘the Void’ (according to the news) ended, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine; the director of CIA immediately announce of the new Avengers including Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier and John Walker, the second Captain America that killed a civilian in public eyes. You don’t even trust the new group she formed, hell you couldn't care less at this point. You almost choked on your water as your eyes glued on the man on the right side of the group. A man who wears a blue crewneck sweater with light brown corduroy pants with curly hair that goes unnoticed. 

The glass slipped from your hand and shattered the moment it hit the floor. You instinctively covered your mouth, eyes wide. Your breathing grew unsteady again. You froze in front of the television for a moment before a sudden phone call jolted you into reality. 

Still shaken from the shock, you answered the call from your sister. A shaky hello is all you could manage at the moment. 

“Am I seeing this right? Bob is on the television? Bob joining the Avengers?” she asked. Her voice was laced with impatience and disbelief. 

“I- I don’t know… You see him too?” you asked her. It’s hard to confirm what you’ve been seeing after the ‘episode’ you had earlier.

“Duh! Everyone can see it! He disappeared for seven years just to be an Avengers? He looks so uncool with that ordinary outfit. Maybe I can help with his out–”

You ended the call, her ranting was more than enough to prove that you’re not hallucinating. The person on the television was Robert. Your Robert. 

If you followed your instincts you'd drive to the Watchtower right now to confront him. But you stopped yourself. You need to be ready. If you’re going to face Robert, you have to be prepared– both physically and mentally. At the very least, you needed to look presentable to meet him after so long. 

Your outfit wasn’t terrible and the makeup you’d applied to make you look presentable wasn’t bad either. Everything seemed fine– on the surface. But you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of the car. Your grip on the steering wheel was so tight to the point your knuckle turned white. It has been so long waiting for Robert. You should at least be excited to meet him right?

But in this case, you couldn't pinpoint exactly what you’re currently feeling right at the moment. Anger, Sadness, Anxious, Happy. It’s all blended into one. 

A knock on your window pulled you out of your thoughts. A police officer stood outside, gesturing for you to roll it down. You did so without hesitation, your fingers still trembling slightly.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you can’t park here,” he said politely but firmly. At that moment you realized that your car stopped near the building– which is crowded with cranes and construction workers. 

“Oh... right. I’m sorry,” you murmured, trying to gather yourself. “I didn’t mean to stay long.”

He nodded, not pressing further. “Alright. Just be sure to move along soon.”

As he walked away, the pressure in your chest returned. You looked back at the looming Watchtower building for a few seconds. You decided to park a little further away from the building. A big sigh escapes from your mouth. You’re here. You waited seven years for him. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

This is it, you thought. No more stalling.

Your hand reached for the door handle, it is now or never. 

“Where’s Bob?” Alexei asked, both of his hands carrying four bags of heavy grocery as if it's nothing. 

“In his new room I guess” a man with blonde hair answered lazily, he was about to leave the pantry, his eyes glued on a foreign person behind Alexei. 

“Ah, great. Does Valentina send us a new PR manager so her reputation is untouchable? Cause let me tell you, we owner her now, one bad decision she ended up with President Ross in the raft” the blond whinged.

“Ah no no… Valentina does not send her here. I am” Alexei clarified.

“You want us to have a PR Manager?” he asked, one brow lifted in confusion.

“No, fool. This is our number one fan!” Alexei chirped. A huge and wide smile could be seen from his face. He put the groceries down, and gently pushed you forward to properly introduce you to the man. 

You recognized the man standing in front of you—he was the second Captain America after Steve Rogers. You were sure of it; the day he was announced, his face had been everywhere.

Walker’s confused expression quickly shifted to one of disapproval. He shook his head as he looked between you and Alexei.

“No… no… Alexei you can’t bring some random people in here! She could be some secret agent or something or just some creep!” he grumbled. 

You’re about to open your mouth to defend yourself but Alexei cuts you off immediately.

“She is harmless. We’re going through security seven times, no guns and knives on her, I guarantee that” 

Walker rolls his eyes back, first day as the new Avengers, Alexei already does so much work in marketing their team. The blonde let out a small sigh while the older male still trying to reassure him. Seeing the tense in the room, you clear your throats to gain their attention which is a success. 

“I’m not a secret agent or some creep, I just want to meet Robert. I’m his friend” you speak up

“Bob got another friend?” Walker asked 

You nodded your head slowly. Seems like Robert still uses the nickname ‘Bob’ to introduce himself to others. You dropped the nickname a long time ago, you thought the name Robert sounds too good not to use, besides he also likes being called Robert by you.

“I met her in the lobby. She begging to meet Bob, I thought she is a fan” 

“Fans or friends. She cannot be in here. I’ll call the security–” 

“Please! I’m begging you, I need to meet him, even for a minute.” you pleaded, the sound of desperation in your voice is noticeable which makes the stern Walker having second thoughts.

“Okay sure. But under one condition” 

You expect the usual would be; having almost thirty guards surrounding you, security check for the nth time and you need to talk to him in the visiting area but your assumptions went straight out of the window when they ask a girl with platinum blonde hair or they called her as Yelena to accompany you to meet Robert. 

You trailed along behind her silently to Robert’s room, the walk from the pantry isn’t that far,  but on each step, your hand grew colder. You glance at Yelena, you’ve seen her once– on the news yesterday but even from that brief impression, she seemed confident, brave and a kind of person who genuinely cares for others. You could tell by how cautious she is before allowing you to meet Robert. 

You didn’t even know what kind of relationship she had with him but you can’t help but feel slightly insecure. You used to be Robert’s safe place. You were always there for him, through every hell he endured. But now, it was Yelena the others trusted with him.

Was she really trustworthy?

You knew how naive Robert could be. That’s what worries you most—that this “new Avengers” crew might be filling his head with promises, just to turn him into their next lab rat.

“Well, Bob doesn’t mention he has a friend” Yelena spoke up, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

You frowned slightly, a sharp pang tightening in your chest.

“He hasn’t?” Seven years—seven long years—you waited for him like a fool, and he hadn’t even mentioned you to his new friends?

A slow wave of regret crept over you. Maybe coming here was a mistake.

“Well, it’s only fair. We just met 48 hours ago and his memory is still hazy after the incident” Yelena answered. 

You stop in your tracks and so does Yelena, the blonde girl turned around to face you with a confused face.

“I– is he okay?” you asked, the news hasn’t covered much about him, they only talk about the other superheroes hence you don’t even know why they took Robert as well. Does the medical research he went to seven years ago link into this chaos?

“Yeah, he’s fine. But just don’t pressure him into remembering things, he can’t control it yet” Yelena said. 

“It?” you asked in confusion. What exactly happened to him?

“Uh, the thing yesterday, it was him– not entirely him but his dark side I would say” 

You fell silent, a chill spreading through you. Had they already made him into their lab rat? For seven years, he has been suffering alone all these years?

Your steps grew heavier as you followed her through the quiet corridor. The sterile lights overhead flickered slightly, casting shadows that seemed to dance with your thoughts. Every footstep echoed your anxiety.

“Bob?” Yelena knocks on his door once before Robert opens it up, with a wide smile plastered on his face. 

“They gave me a good bed!” he exclaims

“Uh yeah, good for you…” Yelena smiles at him, she hasn’t checked her room yet, too busy dealing with the superiors with Bucky. She took a look at Robert's room, it was huge and comfortable, much better than her old room. 

“I think I want to request some books, vinyl records and oh! Maybe a huge TV–”

“Uh, Bob?” Yelena cut him off gently.

Robert turned, eyebrows raised—until Yelena stepped slightly to the side, revealing the girl who had been standing quietly behind her.

Robert froze, stunned into silence. It took him a few seconds to fully register the woman standing in front of him. But when recognition finally clicked into place, his eyes welled with tears, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N” 

Without another words you ran towards him and he caught you in a warm hug. It was surreal, almost unbelievable to feel Robert’s arms around your waist again. You had dreamt of this moment for so long and now it was all real, the realization broke you into tears as you clung tightly to him.

On the other side of the room, Yelena let a small smile form on her lips. It felt good to see people reunited, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding happiness again. She dreamed of that too—especially on the days that felt heavier than most.

Her found family meant everything to her. And now, with her sister Natasha gone, all she could do was keep moving forward. Still, deeply inside she longed for the same kind of peace the two of you had just found in each other.

“Seven years… I’ve waited for you for seven years, Robert” you speak up after a moment being in each other's embrace.

Robert wipes the tears off from your cheek while nodding his head.

“I’m sorry– everything happened so fast, one moment I was in a metal coffin and the next thing I knew I was in a vault and met them” he explained. From the moment Robert regained his consciousness inside the OXE Vault, everything felt like a blur to him. The sight of four strangers in cool suits locked in a deadly battle made him nauseous.

He can’t remember the details but he remembered the tension in his body and when he turned into the Sentry, it felt good. For the first time in forever, everything felt right. He wanted to fly straight to you and show how powerful he became but then again he suddenly collapsed after feeling a buzzing from his new costume and waking up once again not remembering anything. 

He got a little too excited with the news of the new Avengers and the fact that he had a room of his own again. It was a lot to take in after everything. He hated that it distracted him, even for a second.

“I’m sorry” he added

You shook your head, this time it is your turn to wipe the tears off his cheek. 

“I’m just glad that you’re okay. Everyday I pray for you to come back to me.” you snivelled. 

“I’m here now, I will not leave you again. No more volunteer to any medical researchers shit” he slightly chuckle

You scoff at his banter, slowly removing your arms from his waist. 

“You have a lot to tell me, Robert. I can’t wait for us to go back home and–”

“Um, not trying to ruin the moment here but he cannot go back home” Yelena cuts your word. You turn your face to her with a confused expression. 

“What? Why? He is just civilian like me” 

“Uh no… Apparently Bob is one of us now, the thing about medical research make him powerful” Yelena explained

You glance at Robert for a moment, then shift your gaze back to Yelena.

“So about the ‘It’ thing you said earlier–”

“Yup” Yelena Yelena answered before you could even finish your question—already anticipating it. She was worried Robert might try to force the memories back too soon.

“So, can I stay?” you asked her

Yelena seems caught off guard with your question, it tooks a second for her to make a decision. 

“Just don’t let Bucky see you,” she said and left the room.

You turn to Robert again, now his face mirroring your facial just now– the confused look. You let out a small laugh and held both of his warm hands. 

“She cares for you a lot, I can tell. I need to beat her in this one-sided competition” you joked. Robert smiles at you and caresses your cheek– the things that he always does to you, it was more like a habit when the two of you are close like this.

“She feels like a sister to me. A sister that I never had, I don’t know why though, but you… You’re the most special person ever in my heart. The person who trusts me the most. Thank you for waiting for me, I really appreciate you. I really do” 

“I think I love you a little too much to the point that no one in earth can replace you” 

“My girl, I love you too. So much! Gonna spend all of this moment with you forever!” He pulled you into a tight hug and spun you around, making you let out a small shriek in protest, laughing as you begged him to stop.

“I’m glad you found friends that truly care for you, Robert. Me and your other friends are always on your side, through thick and thin” 

Robert’s heart is getting warm hearing your words. He grew so used to the word alone, he nearly forgot what it felt like to be surrounded by people who truly cared. His memories are still foggy, but after meeting the others yesterday, he knew one thing for sure. He is not alone anymore. 

​​For the first time in forever, the void is finally filled with something beautiful.

[cecesilver]

Bob Reynolds (The Void) x F!Reader [18+ smut]

Undone by the tension between them, the strongest member of the team makes their pretty little assistant ride him (fingering + PIV) ♥️

___

The Thunderbolts- New Avengers had insisted on getting an assistant (“because Valentina had an assistant”). Valentina had rolled her eyes, but a glare from Yelena had her scrambling to acquiesce to their ridiculous demand.

That’s how you ended up stumbling out of the elevator one day, awkwardly waving at the team- family. You looked around the room, nervously approaching the friendliest-looking member. “H-hello…” You reached out to shake the hand of the shaggy-haired man, but everyone yelled at you to stop. In a panic, you grabbed his hand anyway, suddenly face to face with your darkest trauma.

You stood there, shocked still, so absorbed in your memory that you didn’t see the man approach you, a guilty expression on his face.

You blinked back into reality, eyes flickering from your connected hands to his face, still sporting a guilty look. You looked at him in confusion, questions on your tongue.

Shocked gasps pulled your attention away, and it was then that you realized you were crying. You moved to wipe them away quickly, but the group rushed to your side, offering awkward attempts at comfort.

You were quickly accepted into the family after that, with everyone insisting you live at the (New) Avengers Tower full-time. Unsurprisingly, because they had demanded an assistant without really knowing what you’d do for them, you became more of a companion to Bob when the rest of the team was out on missions.

With your presence, Bob found a way to feel useful beyond doing household chores.

When you burned yourself baking cookies, Bob was dragging you to the sink as soon as a cry had left your lips. He ran your hand under cold water, holding your wrist gently but firmly. The intensity in his eyes confused you, but it was infinitely better that the scolding you would have received in the past by- it didn’t matter. You gave him a sheepish grateful smile.

When you needed to reach something on a high shelf, Bob always appeared behind you, handing you the item with a smile that left you weak in the knees. In fact, that seemed to be a more common occurrence as time went on. Even Yelena and Ava complained about the changed arrangement of certain items, but the men shrugged them off. You shrugged it off as well.

Everyone in your new family was kind to you, but Bob gave you the allowance to be clumsy. To overthink and make mistakes. He was always there, catching you and helping you. It was nice, nice in a way that left you looking after him longingly.

And this afternoon was just like the others.

Your eyes roamed to Bob, sitting on the couch absorbed in a movie. The sun shone behind him, casting him in an illuminating glow. You sighed wistfully, barely focused on the task you were doing.

Your eyes raked down his body, remembering the surprisingly fit body you’d discovered lay beneath deceptive clothing. You forced your eyes back in front of you, scolding yourself for the millionth time.

You heard a grunt, then a “come here” in a voice that oddly reminded you of Bob. You turned around panicked, hoping an intruder hadn’t gotten to you both, only to see a Void where Bob had just been sitting.

You’d been briefed, of course. And it was part of kind and caring Bob, so you couldn’t possibly be scared. So you obeyed it- him.

You walked up to him, looking into the abyss to find the only light in him. “Yes?”

You fell forward, stumbling on nothing with a yelp as if gravity was playing with you again. You reached out in front of you, grabbing onto him desperately for support. He gripped your waist, stabilizing you.

The action quickly calmed your mind, reminding you of how Bob treated you. That was when you realized, too late, that you were sprawled in his lap.

Bob was always understanding, but this time you really should apologize for your clumsiness.

“You have always looked at him longingly”, his voice pulls you from your thoughts, “but lose focus the moment you are in my lap?” The grip on your waist tightens slightly, but not enough to hurt.

“I-I…” You’re caught, a deer in the headlights.

“I have had enough”, he says. He lifts you slightly off his lap, enough to fit his hand underneath. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

You gasp as he tugs your shirt up enough to expose your panties to him. It paid off to wear baggy shirts around the tower. He lets out a deep breath, running a hand up the inside of your thigh.

You shudder, your hold on his shoulders tightening. He runs a knuckle over the front of your panties, earning him a whine and a slightly slicked finger.

“V-Void”, I pant, “Do you… does he…”

“Yes, so let me take care of you.” He hooks a finger on the waistband of your panties and tugs down. You help him shimmy it down far enough, an embarrassing slick dripping when you do.

He slowly pushes a finger inside of you, and you gasp at the bewildering sensation. It feels amazing. Whatever he’s made of, you want more of it.

He drinks in your expression, wrapping his other hand around the back of your neck. He doesn’t want your head to roll back and deprive him of your expressions. He pushes his finger inside as far as it goes, aided by your rapidly wetting cunt.

“O-oh.”

He starts pumping his finger, exploring your scorching insides. You cry out at his ministrations. Sufficiently satisfied, he adds another finger. “I am going to stretch you out, reconfigure you for me.”

He thrusts his fingers again, being mindful to use a third to rub your clit. “F-fuck, Void”, you whine.

“Yes”, he says simply, curling his fingers inside you. You cry out, trying to move, but something seems to be holding you in place. It’s dizzying.

“Void, I can’t move. I need to-”

“I have you. I always do. Let me do it for you.” He pumps his fingers inside you, squelching as he does. “Just hold onto me.” And then he’s off, fucking up into you with his hand.

“Ah ah ah” You’re lost in the sensations, but he won’t even let you roll your head back. You’re forced to face him, the abyss you triggered with your needy gaze and hesitation. “Void, Void, if you keep going like that…”

He smiles, another source of light appearing. “Go ahead, cum for me.” He buries his hand in your hair, gently massaging you. His other hand is busy buried in your pussy, fucking you without relent.

“Void, V-Void, I’m gonna-“ You cry out, a wave crashing over you. He pumps into you endlessly, ensuring you make the most of your orgasm. You slump against him, mind blank momentarily.

When you return to your senses, Bob is looking at you with intense adoration.

“Bob”, you say tenderly. Overwhelmed with affection, you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him passionately.

He pries your lips open with his tongue, inviting himself in further until you’re both gasping for breath.

He takes this opportunity to touch you everywhere he can, lifting your shirt off and unlatching your bra. “Beautiful”, he murmurs. He runs his hands over your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples.

His arousal, evident and strained, rubs against your naked pussy.

With a sharp intake of breath, he decides to divest himself of his clothes. It’s not long before you’re both naked on the couch, and he’s cupping your face in his hands. “I like you, may I have you?”

Your smile lights up his world. “I like you too, Bob. And yes, you may.”

When he sinks you down onto his cock, it almost feels like the Void’s preparation wasn’t enough. You whimper into his shoulder, and he rubs your back soothingly as he pushes in slowly. “You’re doing so well.” He mutters in encouragement. “You can take it, I know you can. I’ll help.” He gently guides you down, until you’ve hit the hilt.

He pauses then, nuzzling into your neck. “So wet, and yet…” He pulls back to look at you.

You watch a bead of sweat drip down his face. “You can move now”, you tell him softly.

He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling his cock out halfway. Then he takes a deep breath and impales you.

You cry out his name, mewling obscenely as he loses himself in you. “You’re more than anything I imagined…”, he groans.

“I wanted you so badly…” He fucks like a man obsessed.

“Bob, w-wait, let me participate too.”

His tight grip unravels, only to travel down to your hips. You roll your hips slowly, aided by his hands. You both moan at the sensation.

He kisses you gently, savoring the feeling as you fuck. You moan out his name, and he swallows it all.

He tilts his head, aiming deeper. He wants to kiss you thoroughly. You mewl against him, skin slapping against skin unabashedly.

It’s getting hot again, but this time a crawling inferno to the scorching explosion the Void fucked you through. And it’s just as overwhelming. “Bob, I’m g-getting close again. Are you?”

He groans. “Let me get you there.” His thrusts start getting more intense.

“Together, want us to cum together.”

You hear him grunt. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.” Oh god.

He starts rutting into you. “I want to be useful to you.” No, it’s too much.

He looks at you, golden flecks in his eyes. “Fuck, I want you to NEED me.”

You sob out your orgasm, only to be hit by the intensity of his own. He says your name like a mantra, fucking you through it like the Void did.

You scratch at his back, but then your eyes roll back and you black out again, a blissed out smile on your face. He holds you tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair as he slowly rubs your back.

[cecesilver]

So…any bob fanfics out there?

(Asking for a friend yk)

[cecesilver]

Dance with Me? - Bob/Robert Reynolds

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

Super fluffy, no warnings xo

I knew this movie would get me to write again, and I haven't even seen it yet! Don't worry, I am seeing it tomorrow ;)

----------------------------------------------------------

Bucky’s apartment wasn’t home—but it was the closest thing to it. Nestled in a secured corner of Brooklyn, reinforced by his new position as a Congressman, it was a safe haven. A quiet place to hide. It was where Y/N had been laying low ever since she’d turned into a massive, flaming Phoenix above Manhattan—an event that had sent the world into a panic. The headlines hadn’t stopped. Neither had the government’s search.

The Phoenix inside her was too new. Too wild. Too dangerous. So, she stayed hidden. Waiting. Healing.

But that quiet broke the moment the Thunderbolts burst through Bucky’s door, weapons holstered but tension palpable—and someone new in their midst.

Something inside her shifted.

Light moved over her skin like a breeze—curious, tingling, alive. She felt it before she even saw him. From her place curled on the couch, Y/N lifted her head, gaze narrowing on the stranger. Her voice was calm, but her instincts were alert.

“Who's your new friend?”

“This is Bob,” Bucky replied casually, already heading toward the kitchen like this was just another Tuesday.

But Bob… wasn’t just another face.

Y/N’s eyes lingered longer than they should have. She could feel it—that coiled, restrained power humming beneath his skin. But deeper than that was something raw. Broken. Familiar.

He met her gaze, but didn’t smile.

She wondered if he felt her too.

Rising from the couch, Y/N moved a step closer, her voice soft. “He’s not like the rest of you.”

“No,” Yelena cut in, her eyes sharp. “Is this where you’ve been hiding the past few months?”

“Maybe,” Y/N answered, a sly grin tugging at her lips as she picked up her empty mug and headed to the kitchen.

“You’re a terrible government official,” Yelena called after Bucky. “Hiding a nuclear-level threat under your own roof. Cute.”

“I’m not a threat,” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

Yelena mumbled something under her breath that Y/N chose to ignore. Bob quietly slipped into one of the armchairs while Yelena turned to the group.

“We’ve got things to discuss. Mind babysitting, Phoenix?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Bob said, barely louder than a breath. But even he didn’t sound convinced.

Y/N moved back into the living room, her fingers trailing along the back of the couch as she sat, perching at its edge. Yelena took the hint and filed out, Bucky following her with a last glance.

“You two don’t get into any trouble,” he said before the door clicked shut behind him.

Silence settled over the apartment like dust in sunlight.

Y/N rose slowly, her bare feet brushing over the cool hardwood floor. She could feel him watching her—his presence tugging at something inside her chest. It was strange. Electric. Right.

“You don’t talk much,” she said quietly.

Bob’s voice was rough, but not unfriendly. “Not a lot to say.”

She didn’t push. Instead, she turned to the bookshelf, flipping through the records until her fingers landed on something smooth and timeless—Sam Cooke. She dropped the needle, and the music filled the apartment like warmth spilling from an open window.

Turning to face him, she lifted a brow. “When’s the last time you smiled?”

He blinked. “I don’t really know.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Well… I don’t know you yet, Bob, but I have a feeling I can fix that.”

She held out her hand. He stared at it, confused.

“What?”

“Dance with me?”

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, maybe. Hope. He didn’t move, not at first.

“You want me to dance with you?”

“You heard me,” she teased, her grin growing. “A pretty girl is asking you to dance, you’re not going to turn her down, are you?”

He opened his mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to laugh—but no words came. Instead, he slipped his hand into hers and stood, slow and uncertain.

His hand was warm in hers. Solid. Real.

“One song,” she said softly. “No brooding. No worrying. Just… be human with me. Just for a moment.”

She guided him in, gently placing his hand on her waist, her other hand resting against his chest. It had been years since someone touched him like that—like he wasn’t dangerous. Like he wasn’t broken.

She moved first—swaying slowly, fluid and graceful. Bob was stiff at first, clumsy and hesitant, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t watching his feet.

She was watching his face.

“What are you, anyway?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

His eyes narrowed, shadows flickering behind them. “Something powerful. Too powerful.”

She studied him for a beat, then nodded with a hint of a smirk. “Sounds like you’d give me a run for my money.”

He gave a small shrug, unreadable. “Maybe.”

But he didn’t look away, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re allowed to let go sometimes you know,” she whispered, her breath brushing against his cheek. “I do.”

His eyes met hers, flickering with something fragile. “What happens if I let go… and everything falls apart?”

She tilted her head, inching closer. “Then we dance in the ashes.”

Something in him unraveled.

His shoulders dropped, his arm relaxed against her waist—and then, for the first time in what might’ve been forever, he smiled.

Y/N’s heart skipped, and she beamed back at him.

“There it is,” she said. “And it’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

His smile lingered, shy and uncertain, but real. Y/N felt it again—like a pull deep in her chest, a thread tying her to him. It wasn’t just the dance or the song. It was him. The quiet storm beneath his surface. The sense that somehow, even though they'd just met, he wasn’t a stranger.

Their movements slowed until they were barely swaying, just standing in each other’s space. Close. Breath mingling.

Her hand slid up from his chest to rest just over his heart. “That smile looks good on you.”

Bob looked down at her, his brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a rather difficult puzzle. “You feel… familiar,” he murmured, his voice soft and reverent, like he was afraid of breaking whatever moment they’d stumbled into. 

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “I was thinking the same thing.”

The air between them shifted—charged, magnetic. Her eyes flicked to his lips just as he leaned the smallest bit closer. His hand at her waist tightened, just slightly, anchoring them in that fragile, suspended second.

It felt like the world had gone still, like the Phoenix inside her was holding its breath.

Then—

Click.

The front door swung open.

“You leave them alone for five minutes,” Bucky’s voice filled the room, too casual and far too loud, “and they throw a damn prom.”

Y/N took a sharp step back, cheeks flushed, pretending she hadn’t just been about to kiss a man she’d known for less than an hour.

Bob ran a hand through his hair and turned away, the moment shattered like glass underfoot.

Bucky blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Y/N said, voice an octave too high as she reached to turn off the record player. “Just... entertaining your guest.”

Bob sat back down without a word, his eyes carefully avoiding hers now, like if he looked again, he’d lean right back in.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Right. Well. We’ve got updates. Let’s all have a chat, shall we?”

Y/N nodded, but as she brushed past Bob on her way to the kitchen, her fingers grazed his—and just for a second, she felt that spark again. That pull.

Whatever this was between them—it wasn’t done yet.

[cecesilver]

version with less clothing is only available in @akasakurevival and @sasori-bunraku discord servers

[cecesilver]

To spare

A scene from chapter #6 of my fic!

The aftermath of Sasori and Sakura's second battle. This time she started it.

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