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cherrys-muses · 23 days ago

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★ NOW HE’S SO DEVOID OF COLOR HE DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS | robert reynolds (void) x reader

warnings; talks of depression, mentions of hoping one would die, a bit angsty, bob shuts people out when he starts getting depressed, void takes over, r gets slipped into bob’s ‘shame room’ immediately, happy ending :p an; i’m slightly nervous to put this out because i’m not really sure if it’s any good or if i captured bob as well as i tried too and like ive seen others do on here 😔 but i still hope everyone enjoys!

It’s strange — how the lights begin to slightly flicker, even if the sun is shining through the windows of the tower, or the television turns to static for a split moment.

John is always pestering you to do your job and get someone to look at the lights and to order a new television. You know he’s joking, but sometimes it feels as if he’s not.

You know there’s nothing wrong with the electrical unit — an alarm on the inside that would immediately alert you, or someone behind the scenes, that something isn’t right. You’re concerned as to why it only happens when Bob walks into the room.

Bob. Someone you’ve been watching as he grows, albeit a bit awkwardly, but nonetheless he does grow into himself. Not as in growing into your body, but rather himself as a whole.

Valentina had been doing her best to work with him, to find someone to work with him the best they could. It would never end up pretty. You’d have to make sure that the broken window would be replaced soon, escort the poor soul towards the medical floor so Richard - a nice older man - could access their beaten body.

Bob still wasn’t truly aware of how much power he withheld in his body. The power of a million exploding suns is what you could use to describe the male, which only made him much more nervous with the thought.

He’s trying, really. There’s a dent in a brick wall from when he was practicing with his flying, but quickly realized how unstable he was. And how high he could get.

But lately, Bob has been walking around the tower, aimlessly. Every room he enters slowly begins to freeze even though he’s warm.

You noticed a while back when knowing him became something special. He was someone who wasn’t necessarily afraid to speak up for others - not without a small, trembling voice, but when it truly came down to himself, he’d stay quiet, listening to the self-deprecating words being spewed by another.

He would flinch, but take it as if he was taking a punch. Bob believed he deserved every word being spit at him — even on his better days, where he wasn’t trapped in those thoughts of his and played a mental rubix cube in his mind, zoning out of the moment, he’d only smile slightly and give a quick witty remark.

And that would be it.

Knowing Robert Reynolds was knowing he believed that everything that happens to him, happens as some sick karma for how he turned out, even if he’s trying to make a change.

But there’s something inside of him — latched around his heart and embedded deeply into the muscle — that tells him otherwise. The thing makes his chest feel heavy, constricted, wild almost. It causes him panic from time to time, but luckily, you’re there to reel him in from the deep end that he begins to descend too.

It’s something that numbs his body, void of any feeling. It begins at his fingertips — it’s a slow tingle that begins when he feels the rapid beat of his heart in his chest and the clench of his jaw. The tingle begins to fade into nothing, traveling slowly up his arm.

Before it meets any closer to his heart or head, you're there. Warm fingertips spreading something through him — not quite a fire. Maybe light, something soft to guide him back to where he definitely doesn’t want to go again.

“You okay?” It’s whispered, gentle, almost as if you’re afraid to rattle Bob. But to him, you never could. Instead, he nods and gives you a small smile, eyes a darker blue than usual, glassier. He looks tired. You’d run the pad of your thumb along the top of his hand and he inhales shakily, looking away.

Bob doesn’t know the worst part of when he reaches the lowest point of his mind, where it seems almost as if there’s no return. Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t remember anything and the fact people looked at him with a certain type of expression. Reluctant, maybe. Or fear.

He doesn’t know if it’s the feeling before it comes, the sadness that seemingly overwhelms him — almost as if he’s in an ocean, drowning as his heavy sweater gets weighted down and he’s lost all his ability to swim, to surface himself. He doesn’t call out for help though. Oh, no.

He suffers quietly, to himself, locked in his room. He’s either pacing or laid out on his bed — no in between — listening to the voice in his mind that only grows louder and louder. It’s deep, gravelly, dark. It has him gripping the sheets of his bedding, hoping the soft threading would stabilize him like your hand could.

Like you could.

And before he knew it, he could feel his heart slowing at an alarming rate. Even when Bob would wish — would pray — that he wouldn’t wake in the morning, so he wouldn’t be a burden anymore (especially when he gets this way), he hated this feeling. The feeling of teetering over the edge, toying with death itself it seemed and staying in the middle.

Lately, he’s been feeling that way again. Walking around aimlessly, just nibbling on snacks rather than having an actual meal, drinking only half a bottle of water before leaving it elsewhere and forgetting about it completely after a while.

Practice he fumbles around, more than usual. He doesn’t mean to, really he doesn’t, and he can tell by the sigh Walker gives is annoyed, frustrated, when he doesn’t get the move right.

“I already told you — keep your arms up, Bobby. Up,” Walker's fingers wrap around Bob’s wrist to keep them up, and his grip is firm. It doesn’t hurt, but it has Bob flinching anyway from the suddenness of his fingers. Walker pauses for a moment, noticing, taking in the slight wince that takes morphs on his face. Sighing, again, he removes his fingers — he’s been trying to get a hold of his emotions better, especially if it’s something so small, going to some type of anger management class that you’d ‘jokingly’ signed him up for.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll stop there for today,” The sandy-blonde comments as he nods and steps away. “You did good today.” He bends to grab the water bottle by his bag, grabbing the strap with his other hand and dropping it onto his shoulder as he takes a couple of gulps of water.

“Did I?” Bob asks after a moment. He’s still standing in the middle where Walker had left him, stiff as a board, arms dropped to his side. John glances over at him, pulling his bottle away from his mouth slowly as he wipes the droplets, that may have lingered, away with the back of his hand.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true,” He shrugs. Logically, Bob knows this is true. John likes to play around, but when it comes to the truth, he’s brutally honest.

But still, something…pulls at his mind. Even if it’s something small.

“We’ll pick back up tomorrow where we left off. Take a shower,” He walks past him, patting his back as he goes. “Might wanna get a haircut or something soon. You’re starting to look like a shaggy, wet dog.”

The heavy training room doors close behind John after a moment, echoing around the room, leaving Bob by himself. His eyes rove around the area, landing on each corner of the room. Time passes without him even realizing how long he was truly standing there.

Finally, he finds his way out of the training room, aware of how his skin had grown sticky with dried sweat and how much heavier his sweater feels on his shoulders. He comes to a stop in the kitchen when he notices you, but notices the lack of others in the building.

Something sizzles in the pan that you stand over, the smell of grilled chicken has his stomach churning. You glance over and startle slightly but smile, nonetheless. “Bob, hi. I was wondering,” You look back at the chicken and flip it quickly. “You stayed to practice in the gym that long?” You question.

Bob glances towards the clock, before the windows that overlook the city. It’s dark now, besides the lights that shine from tall buildings and passing cars. “Oh, uh, yeah,” He nods. “I guess I did.”

The stove turns off with a small click as you turn the knob, moving the sizzling pan off the hot eye. “You need to be careful so you don’t over-do it, Bob,” You say softly. “John told me you both had finished at…two. It’s six now.”

Disassociating, losing track of time, is also something he’s come to notice over time.

“Oh. I must’ve lost track of time or something,” He says. Your hands pause on the handles of the cabinet, looking over at him. It’s almost as if you can actually see through him, it’s scary. He can tell when you’re deep in thought, a small crease forming that he wants to smooth over with his thumb, but he doesn’t want to taint you with whatever this is.

Never you.

“What?” He asks suddenly.

You give a small smile, though it’s not one that you usually give Bob. It’s suppressed, worry still evident with the way you look at him. “Nothing,” You answer back. “Go take a shower. Wash off,” You look away from him now, as if it’s too much to look at him and it has him nauseated now.

“Then come back and eat. I’ll wait for you.”

“You don’t have to wait for—”

You cut him off, quick with your words. “I’m going too,” Your voice is firm, but he doesn’t flinch from the tone like he usually would. You pull two plates from the cabinet. “You haven’t had a decent meal in a while and I want to make sure you actually eat — not just push it around on your plate.”

Bob says nothing. All he does is nod, shuffling on his feet awkwardly as he makes his way down the hallway. How you know he hadn’t eaten in a while is something he doesn’t question, you know everything.

The warm shower is nice, especially after he washes his skin and hair off twice, a third time for good measure. He still stares straight forward at the tile that’s become slick, avoiding staring at his skin longer than he wanted too.

There’s reminders there that he wants to try to forget.

They’ll always be there. A part of you now — a part of your flesh. It’s what you are.

His eyes squeeze shut, hair sticking to the nape of his skin as he turns and dips his head under the pelting stream of water, holding his breath. His hands close into a tight fist, before he pulls his head away and gasps for a moment, chest heaving.

You’d come knocking if he doesn’t make it to the kitchen soon and he doesn’t really want that. Turning off the water, he grabs the towel that hangs from the rod, drying off as he steps out. He changes into some clean clothes — some sweats and a hoodie. He tosses the towel into the hamper that’s growing with his clothing and towels he’s not using. Ava’s already said something about it, since, technically, this is the guest bathroom.

He needed to clean in here, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. Flipping off the light, he steps out and presses his fingers into his eyes as he rubs roughly. He’s tired, for whatever reason.

His arm drops by his side when he makes it to the kitchen and he notices the lights are dimmed to a warm glow, and you’ve changed into some pajamas — just some shorts and an oversized sweater.

The table’s set with two plates filled with grilled chicken, rice, and some vegetables on the side and two glasses of juice by each plate.

You turn and smile softly at him. “How was the shower?”

Bob takes another glance at the food before making his way over and sitting down where you had placed his food. “Good. I feel better.”

You hum softly, grabbing your fork and knife, immediately digging in. It takes Bob a minute to grab his own and do the same, but eventually, he does.

The only thing that makes noise is the silverware that hits against the plate slightly every so often, or the sound of Bob’s chair as he shifts to find a comfortable position.

Your eyes slowly glance up at him, slowing your chewing. Bob is handsome — of course he is. You noticed the first time you’d met him after being hired by Valentina. But you also couldn’t help but notice a sadness that lingered on him like a second skin almost. And if you could take away that sadness, you would.

You could tell when it would get worse.

“Where are the others?” Bob asks suddenly.

You clear your throat and look back down at your plate. “They had a mission that came up,” You nod. “They’ll be gone for a day, two at the most. It wasn’t anything too big.”

He nods and sets his fork and knife down, grabbing his napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth of any lingering food. He takes his glass and downs the rest of the fruit punch. “Thank you for this,” He nods and taps his fingers along the glass. “It was…nice.”

You glance back up at him, a soft smile pulling at your lips. He’s unable to hold his own back, even allowing a small huff pass from his nose. “Yeah…of course,” You nod. “Bob?”

“Yeah?”

You stare at him quietly for a moment, pursing your lips together. “You know if you ever…need anything, or anyone, you can always come talk to me? Even if you need me late at night, you come and knock at my door until I wake up, okay?” He doesn’t make any movement to answer your question. “You don’t have to be alone in this,”

His eyes quickly look towards the plate. It’s quiet again for another moment, before he notices your hand, open and palm up in front of him. He hesitates before slowly lifting his hand and places his palm gently into yours.

“Don’t shut yourself away. It makes it worse even if you don’t think it does,” Your voice is soft, like it always was with Bob. “Silence doesn’t make it quieter — it makes it louder.”

She’s speaking to you as if you were a child.

She doesn’t know how you feel.

Bob’s eyes lift from where your hand is gentle in his, brushing over his knuckles in a soft touch. His jaw clenches as he tries to swallow down the lump in his throat.

They’re all lying to you.

You flinch slightly from how sudden he moves and stands from his chair. The legs scratch against the floor as it slips along the tile. You blink and stare up at him.

“I’m going to lie down.”

“Bob—”

“Stop,” His eyes close as if he's physically in pain. And maybe he is. He shakes his head, jaw clenching once more. “Just…You’re making it worse. That’s all you're doing,” He opens his eyes and stares at you.

“Just stop trying to help. You can’t help.” Your lips part, eyes remaining locked on him. His gaze leaves you cold, a small chill running up your spine and goosebumps forming on your arms. Finally, he rips his gaze away and moves towards the hallway, towards his room.

The door slams behind himself, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes once again, feet pacing a short distance back and forth. His heart is pounding roughly in his chest, loud in his ears. Sweat beads along his hairline and his eyes prickle uncomfortably with tears, blurring his vision as he pulls his hands away.

His feet stumble towards his bed, fingers gripping the blankets as his face dips into the softness of his pillow.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just let go?

Bob’s teeth clench, his grip leaving the blanket, instead threading his fingers through his hair this time.

You’ve tried so hard to find purpose, but deep down…

“No.” Bob’s voice feels raw and he hasn’t really even spoken. It feels as if barbed wire is around his throat, being tightened by bleeding hands that love the pain it brings. He gasps into the pillow, head shaking slightly.

Deep down you know there is none.

Look at you now. Alone. Insignificant. Why fight it?

There’s a pounding in his head that has him pressing the tips of his fingers into his head now, brows pinching together as another shuddering, broken sob leaves his mouth.

Why keep pretending that you’ll change?

You’ve always been hollow. Always will be because you’re not strong enough to change that.

Let me help you.

The words are mixed in his head and his tired eyes slowly open, landing on the far corner of his messy room.

Let me help you, Bob.

The voice is warped. Warped with the gritty, deep voice is yours. Something that’s light, something that tries to keep himself grounded, tied to his own body.

His heart begins to slow.

His fingers release the tight hold and he slowly lifts himself from the bed, feeling the last tear slip from his eye, down his cheek. Glancing up, he watches as a shadow drags along his room.

It’s easier to just…

Bob’s eyes close slowly.

Fade.

The next morning when you wake up from a night of tossing and turning, you open your eyes slowly and shiver. Your fingers are frozen and your teeth clatter together slightly. Pushing yourself from the bed, you make your way out towards the thermostat.

Brows pinching together, you raise the heat slightly before glancing down towards Bob’s room. Slowly shuffling towards the closed door, your hand hesitates before knocking gently.

“Bob?” It’s silent inside, eerily so. But you don’t want to open the door just yet, not until your need too. “I, uh, I’m going to make some breakfast. Peanut butter toast, nothing too big. You can join me if you’d like,”

You start to turn away, but pause once more and turn back. “I’m sorry…for last night. I didn’t mean to overstep if that’s what you think I was doing.”

Your eyes linger on the door, waiting, hopeful that he might open the door. Sighing quietly when you realize that he hadn’t made any movement behind the door, you turn and make your way towards the bathroom.

You grab the bread, popping two into the toaster, you turn and grab two plates from the cabinet and the jar of peanut butter. There was one banana left in the bowl, so you grab it and set it to the side.

Your eyes quickly glance back towards a popping noise, pausing when there’s a slight buzzing from the outlet. They flicker towards the lights that suddenly grow dim and the thickness in the room suddenly becomes almost suffocating.

Slowly turning your body from the counter, your eyes land on Bob. Or well, the shape of Bob. Though, it wasn’t truly him, just a hollow, black hole of nothing besides two, glowing pin-point eyes.

Your lips part, trying to find your voice as you continue to stare in front of you. “Bob…”

The hollow body slowly tilts its head. “Bob is gone.”

You remember talking to Yelena once about the time Bob had done this before. The one thing you know that Void loves more than anything is isolation, the feeling of winning and loneliness, and the feeling of being known — knowing that he was there, deep in the corners of everyone’s mind, lingering, waiting to suffocate them in a darkness.

You step forward slowly, stopping in front of him. Glancing down at the arm by his side, your hand reaches out slowly, fingers slightly sinking into his own. Your eyes cut up towards the pin-point glow, before allowing yourself to sink into him.

You also know about the shame rooms — regrets that go on a constant loop that never stops, it feeds him. Yet, when you open your eyes, you see Bob.

He’s sitting in the middle of, seemingly, an attic. A rubix cube is in his hand, the stickers are slightly ripped at the sides, discolored from age. He looks so small sitting there.

“Bob.”

His eyes are quick to leave the ground and land on you, blinking once. “What are you—how did you—” You make your way over slowly, lowering yourself next to him.

“He didn’t scare me,” You answered his question that hadn’t really asked, yet, you knew what was running around in his mind. “You don’t scare me,”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks at the ground once more. “You never could.”

Bob inhales shakily, fingers fumbling with the square puzzle in hand. “He has me again,” His voice wavers. “I don’t…I don’t know how to stop it.”

Your eyes leave his face to stare at the floor when the voices below begin to rise with volume. You shift closer, sitting in front of him. “You can’t,” You shake your head. His eyes quickly shoot up to stare at you. “You’ll always be ashamed of something, remember something that brings you back to a time in your life that you can’t stop reliving,”

“But that doesn’t mean you allow it to over-power you, Bob. Whatever your mind says about you isn’t true,” You flinch at the sound of crashing, watching as his eyes squeeze shut. Your heart aches in your chest, glancing down once more towards the hole in the floor.

You always make things worse!

Clenching your jaw, you quickly look back towards him. Moving closer, your hand lands on his stubbled cheek. Face softening, you watch as his eyes slowly open.

“I don’t like being here.” He whispers. A tear slips free and your thumb quickly wipes it away.

“We can leave,” You whisper back softly, nodding. You shift closer to his side, pulling him close. Your hand covers one of his ears as the other presses to your chest. It suddenly becomes louder downstairs. Your brows pinch together, lips pressing to the back of his hair as you slowly rock back and forth. “It’s okay…It’s okay, Bob,” You whisper softly.

His shoulders begin to shake as his arms wrap around your waist, fingers grasping tightly at the fabric of your shirt as he finally breaks. Your other arm wraps around his chest, gripping at his bicep. “I’m here. You’re okay,” Your nose presses into his temple, eyes slipping closed. “You’ll be okay.”

He still hasn’t let go, but it’s warm now, not cold. Your eyes slowly open, glancing around. Both of you are back in the kitchen, though you make no move to pull away from Bob. Your hand leaves his bicep, landing on his cheek as you wipe the tears away from his cheek.

“I’m here.”

Slowly his grip loosens and he lifts his head slowly from your chest. Your hand drops and slips around to land on the side of his neck. His eyes slowly look around and they are slightly lighter than what they have been.

His exhale is shaky, and so is the hand that lands on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” You say quickly, turning his head slightly. “Not for something that you can’t handle. But, please, don’t run away again when someone’s trying to help you. Especially me,”

He nods slightly. “We don’t want you facing this alone,” You stay silent for a moment. “I don’t want you facing this alone.”

“I know.”

You smile softly, softly dragging your thumb over his cheekbone. “Good.” He nods against your palm, turning his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm gently, letting his lips linger. He wants to kiss you, but not like this. Not after what just happened.

You deserve better than that.

You lean forward and press a kiss gently to his temple, before pulling away. “Are you hungry?” You ask softly. A voice, he notices, that is only truly used around him.

He glances at you and lets out a soft laugh, nodding slightly. “Yeah. A little.”

“Peanut butter and banana toast?”

“Sounds good,” Slowly standing from the ground, he takes your hand and helps you up as well. He grabs your arm as you go to turn away, wanting to linger next to you a bit longer. “Thank you,” He says softly.

Your head tilts slightly, mouth parting to speak. “For bringing me back down. Sometimes I…I feel stuck.”

Your shoulders drop slightly, but you only nod. “I’d always come find you to bring you back down,” You say. “I know you think you don’t deserve it, Bob, but you do. Plus more.” Bob only slightly nods.

He doesn’t believe it, doesn’t think he ever will believe it. But he thinks he can try.

— cherrys-muses | please reblog or comment if you enjoyed — feedback is always welcomed as well!

— divider by; @uzmacchiato

#𝜗𝜚 cherry’s posting #robert reynolds x fem!reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x you #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #void x reader #void x you

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cherrys-muses · 25 days ago

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another selfish-reblog!!

w; lower case intended & very short! an; this is my third post today ….. i already feel bad for posting twice but THREE??? i apologize to everyone in advance </3 this is purely self-indulgent bc i cannot stop thinking about him (also apologies for using his other tags! just want to spread this).

there’s a glass on the nightstand that had been shared last night, with a lipstick stain and half-filled with warm wine. the window is opened slightly, a breeze blowing the fresh, sheer linen slightly.

the sound of laughter from down below has you stirring in the comfort of your warm sheets, lifting your arms above your head as you let out a small yawn.

allowing your eyes to remain closed for a moment, your right hand slowly drops and feels around for someone who is supposed to be right next to you, but you're only met by cold, empty sheets. frowning and opening your tired eyes slightly, you lift up on your elbows and glance around the room.

there’s sounds of water from the bathroom, steam rolling out from under the small crack of the door. smiling once you realize johnny has yet to leave, you lie back and hope you can convince him to stay a bit longer — or better yet, skip work.

the door finally opens for a moment and your eyes slip shut once again, hoping that you are hiding your smile well. the bed dips slightly, the feeling of warm fingers brush against your temple and down your cheek.

“you awake?”

you don’t move, yet the corner of your mouth twitches. the tip of his nose presses against your cheek softly when his lips brush over your temple and across your cheekbone. you let out a small laugh, turning your head slightly to finally get a good look at him.

“good morning, doll.” his plush lips pull into a toothy grin, his hand pressing into the pillow behind your head.

“good morning,” you smile back just as big, eyes flickering down to his work outfit. frowning, you look back up at him. “do you have to go?”

“i’m afraid so,” he lets out a dramatic sigh, dropping his forehead against yours gently. “i am a very needed person.”

huffing out a small laugh, you lift your arms and wrap them around his shoulders loosely, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. “i’ll miss you.”

“i won’t be gone for long,” his hand lifts and meets your shoulder before dragging down softly. his soft eyes drag along your face, his face melting into something softer. “i’ll be home before you know it.”

nodding your head softly, with your nose nudging his, you press a final kiss against his lips, cradling his jaw between your hands now. you pull away slowly, brushing your thumb along his skin.

“be safe.”

“always.” he grins.

#joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #johnny storm x fem!reader #johnny storm x reader

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cherrys-muses · 25 days ago

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since these are getting so much love!!!! selfish-reblog!

an; uh …… shhhhh look away please. or don’t. i don’t mind. i just wanted to do something a tad bit angsty & sweet. i also cannot stop thinking about him at the moment. or joseph in general. so enjoy. w; lower case intended! also just went ham on this one — no grammar check or anything. just straight to the point.

11:35pm.

it’s late and the food on the table that you’d placed in a specific order is cold, stale more than likely. the wine is bitter going down, warm.

it was something special for johnny — something you wanted to surprise him with. a homemade dinner, with candles, and a relaxing night.

yet, he still wasn’t home like he said he would be.

scratching at your forehead, you take another sip of wine, hoping it would taste different this time. it didn’t. it makes you wince slightly at the taste as you stand from the table.

flipping on the lights, you blow out the candles before grabbing the plates, putting johnny’s back into the cabinet, but scraping any left overs into the trash from your own before placing it into the sink.

you don’t pause the cleaning you’re doing when you hear the front door open and the sound of keys dropping into the bowl next to the door.

“hey, sweetheart. how was—” his words slowly trail off when he notices the table. a new table runner and lace cloth covered the oak, nice crystal glasses sat out, the food that was now being placed into tupperware. “what’s all this?”

you shrug, snapping the lid on a bowl filled with some grilled chicken. “leftovers.” your answer is short, voice even as you turn and place it to the side before moving onto the green beans.

he frowns a bit, eyes darting back and forth between the table, counter, and you. you look pretty even if you’re wearing one of his button-ups, face bare, yet the strawberry chapstick he knows you have on glosses your lips.

stepping into the kitchen a bit more, he notices the smoke that drifts into the air from the burnt wick of the candle. the frown he already has deepens as his eyes finally dart back to you.

“what was all of this for?”

for someone so smart, he was stupid.

“well, since you told me you were going to be home early tonight — for the first time in a while — i thought i’d surprise you with something nice,” you hum softly, letting out a small laugh as you shake your head. “turns out, it would’ve been better for me to go on to bed.”

you’re not truly mad at johnny — well, only a bit — you’re mad that you haven’t spent time with him in a couple of weeks.

that’s all you wanted. time.

johnny is quick to step closer, grabbing your hands that reach for the dirty plates. “no, i’ll get that,” he shakes his head. opening your mouth, he’s quick to peck the corner of your mouth. “go lie down. i’ll clean up the rest.”

“johnny, you just—”

“what’s a little more gonna do to me, huh?” a small, playful smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “go lie down. i’ll be there in a minute.”

glancing over at the dirty plates again, a small part of you feels guilty for allowing him to do it, even if he’s offering to put them away.

he pats your side softly, turning and grabbing the dishes himself. you watch quietly before hesitantly stepping off towards your shared bedroom. the streetlight from outside guides your way to the bed.

the sheets had been changed earlier today, a fresh, sweet smell making you inhale deeply and your eyes to slowly close.

you don’t even move under the covers, sleepiness already pulling you under the darkness, the fading car horns from outside the window, surprisingly, lulling you to sleep.

you stir when you feel the bed dip on johnny’s side, eyes slowly opening as you watch him slip you both under the covers.

his arm is gentle as it slides under your head, wrapping around your shoulder. you move closer, your arm draping lazily over his side. your fingers begin to move on their own accord, trailing over his heated side slightly.

“sorry for snapping.” your voice is soft, still laced with sleep. johnny’s eyes glance down, his hand twisting slightly, pushing at the hair that covers your face.

he smiles when he watches your tired eyes lift to look up at him. “it’s alright. don’t apologize.”

“i just miss you.”

he hums, his thumb trailing a small, soothing trail up the side of your neck. “and i miss you,” he whispers. “i’ll take tomorrow off. we’ll sleep in, then make a day to ourselves. how does that sound?”

you nod against his chest, eyes already closing as your mouth pulls into a lazy smile. “that sounds…perfect, actually.”

he snorts quietly to himself, watching as your shoulders drop slowly, sleep overtaking you again. he pulls the cover over your shoulder, pulling you closer with his free hand, slowly dragging it up and down your arm.

closing his own eyes, he lets his lips press against your forehead, the scent of your shampoo carrying him into a comforting sleep.

#𝜗𝜚 cherry’s posting #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #johnny storm x fem!reader #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you

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cherrys-muses · 25 days ago

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WIP WEEKEND!

— Send me an emoji from the list below, and I'll write 2 or 3 sentences for that work and share! Feel free to send as many emojis as you'd like, I will get to them when I have the time! 😊

[ i was tagged by @28bohemianmoons — my love. i only have ONE work in progress because for some reason im very unmotivated (and i feel awful for that :/). i’m hoping soon ill be spitting them out quick. ]

⚫️ ‘now he’s so devoid of color, he don’t know what it means’ - bob (void) reynolds x reader

— not tagging but if anyone feels like doing this, feel free too!

#𝜗𝜚 cherry’s posting #wip progress

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cherrys-muses · 27 days ago

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HEY!!!!!! i just watched fantastic 4, SO if anyone has any requests for johnny — SEND!!!!! if there’s any that has to do with the plot, ill do those, BUT ill post them four weeks (?) later so everyone has a chance to watch it!

but, any ideas you guys might have, please send!!!!

#𝜗𝜚 cherry’s posting #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #johnny storm x fem!reader #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you

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cherrys-muses · 1 month ago

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this is gonna make me spiral i’m not ready

IM NOT CRYING YOU ARE

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cherrys-muses · 1 month ago

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★ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT. | single dad!jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

warnings; after events in ‘top gun: maverick’ (will be explained more in later fics!) but just single-dad!jake, probably not good characterization of hangman, if you don’t really enjoy children - children (but she’s a little joy💖), no use of any appearance besides one outfit described!

an; bee (@geminiwritten) is the one i should thank for giving me inspiration to write for jake, not to mention the single dad idea that conjured up IMMEDIATELY. but this is my first time writing for him and i truly don’t know if i enjoyed what i have for him so far 😔 i tried my best and my apologies if it’s not right characterization 💔

Pour. Place on a napkin. Pop open a cold one. Toss the jagged lid. Wipe counter. Repeat.

Oh, not to mention — wink every so often when a Naval Aviator gives a flirty comment so they can stuff a five or ten dollar bill into the jar (if you’re lucky, even sometimes a twenty), anything to flirty and the bell would be ringing, causing the other fighter pilots to cheer and immediately head to the bar, drowning both you and Penny in the scent of Nautica, fuel, and subtle smell of beer that begins to grow and drop on your hands to make them sticky.

The Hard Deck is something you took up in spare time after your move from Florida. Needing to sort the chaos that you’d begun to feel after a while, you needed to take the reins and get a grip on it yourself.

There’s absolutely no way you’d let that chaos control you — you’d control it instead.

And, you do, you have a handle on it. But there’s a small feeling that’s creeping up on you, intertwining under your skin, settling itself in your chest. It’s not quite impending doom just yet, even though that sounds silly at the moment. All you know is to be aware of anything, or anyone, who might make you let go of the control you have.

Another wave of Nautica hits you and you almost gag. Instead of doing just that, you turn with a smile. “What can I get for you?” The man has been up here six different times. He has curly hair atop his head and green eyes. Tattoos cover his left arm, almost a sleeve, yet not quite finished.

Penny said he’s one of the new ones, around your age, yet there’s nothing there that’s interesting to you. There’s a stain that’s near the collar of his shirt, where some of the buttons are popped open that you can’t help but look at. He notices, looking down before looking back up with a sly grin on his face.

He leans in with his elbows on the bar, eyes trying their best to squint, thinking that might be hot. The boy just looks as if he’s trying to hold his eyes open. “See somethin’ you like?” It’s slurred and the scent of one too many beers invades your space just like he is. Penny keeps watch as she reaches below to grab another bottle.

“Not at the moment, no,” You give him a smile. “I also think you’ve had way too much.”

He whines. Your brows slowly lift at the sound of a grown man whining about getting cut off. He’s never been told no, more than likely, you think to yourself. But you aren’t the type to let people drink themselves sick. He’s probably already going to regret this in the morning when he has to train.

“Oh, c’mon. ‘m good! Cool! Jus’ one more,” He holds up his index finger, leaning in closer. “Or…we can compromise. I walk away without a drink but with your number instead.” He grins.

“How about this compromise,” You start, stepping back slowly. The smile on his face drops when your fingers wrap around the rope. “You pay for everyone’s drinks?” The bell rings and somehow over the loud chattering in the room, it can be heard, and suddenly everyone’s cheering, patting the boy, who looks dejected, on the back as they pass by him.

Shaking your head. “No more drinks. And no more disrespect towards the bartender.” He mutters something under his breath, slipping from the stool and stumbling his way through the crowd. Penny lets out a small laugh, patting your arm.

“You did good, holding your own.”

You shrug and wipe at the counter with the sticky guy who had been sitting. “I try,” You smile. Turning, you toss the rag in the bin under the counter that’s starting to grow with used rags throughout the night. “Do you mind if I take a quick ten minute break?”

“Go for it. You okay though?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You give her another small smile. You slip out from behind the counter, weaving your way through the crowd. You slip through the back door, stepping outside on the small porch that wraps around the building.

Back inside, conveniently enough, Jake has stayed at the pool table with his pole in hand, green eyes watching the bar the whole time. Phoenix jokes about Megan, earning a small glare from Jake.

“Oh,” Bradley hisses through his teeth slightly. Playful, teasing. “I think you might’ve hit a nerve there, Phoenix.” He smirks, leaning over the table to make his shot. The balls click together, a stripe rolling into the pocket. He curses, leaning back up with a hand on his hip.

“She did not hit a nerve,” He’s quick to defend, leaning over the table himself. “I’m just…people watching.”

“That’s not anything new.” Bob speaks up from his chair. Jake slowly looks over at the boy in glasses, narrowing his eyes slightly. The boy flushes under his frames, going back to looking into the cup of peanuts that have suspiciously become more entertaining than the bickering going on, much to Hangman’s dismay, but everyone else’s delight.

“Find any victims of your nightly charades before going back home to be the dad of the year again?” Fanboy grins over the lip of his beer bottle. A bit of water rolls from the glass and onto the floor, making a perfect ring around this khaki covered thigh when he rests it there.

“Yeah,” Jake mumbles, making a perfect shot. Bradley throws out a hand before groaning. He smirks, glancing over at the boy. “Your mom.”

Reuben and Javy let out a full-bellied laugh after the comment, Jake’s teenage humor never one to fail them. The others let out small chortles here and there, Natasha’s small grimace that still hides a small smile. He grins now, pleased by the reactions from his comment. Mickey frowns.

“Aye, man,” He points towards him with his index finger. There’s no real bite to his tone, just a teasing warning. “Don’t talk about my mama like that.”

Jake lets out a small snort. “Baby on board,” He says. Bob is quick to look up, watching as Jake holds out his arm that holds the cue stick. “Here. I need to go outside for a minute,”

Bob looks hesitant. Usually, Jake will steal it straight from his grip without any hesitation. “I’m not gonna steal it from you, kid. Here,” He steps closer, letting it lean on his chest instead. Bob quickly grabs it before it slips. Jake pulls his phone from his pocket. “I need to check and see if everything’s good with Amelia.” He waves it slightly in the air as proof.

Though, he knows everything is fine. He’s just doing it to get away and make his way towards the person who has caught his eye over the past month. He’s always the one to walk up to ladies first, introduce himself, charm them.

This just felt…different somehow.

“Everything okay?” Natasha asks, watching as he makes it down the two small steps. Jake glances back with a small smile and nod.

“Yeah. I just like making sure she’s in bed at a decent time.”

“It’s summer.” Bradley points out.

“And yet, sleep is still important.” Jake shrugs slightly, before turning and weaving his way through the crowd. He smiles at a couple of women who try to stop him, but he keeps pushing forward before he’s finally stepping out of the Hard Deck and under the fairy lights Maverick had made him and Bradley hang up as ‘punishment’.

When in reality, Penny had asked Mav to do it a long time ago. The man had been putting it off until Penny had mentioned just doing it herself, he was quick to decline, pulling his phone out. Jake didn’t enjoy the fact he had to cut swinging time down at the park, but then again, he wants to thank Maverick. Because that was the first time he’d ever saw you.

He’d slipped from the latter that day when you had slipped from your truck — red boots, cut off shorts, lace top. You’d only smiled at the two. A simple ‘boys’ leaving your mouth as a greeting as you passed by.

Bradley, a man with strength that Jake usually makes fun of him for, had caught his legs before he could tip over anymore. “Watch it, man.” He’d continued working, but still, stole glances from where you stood inside, keeping Amelia company by putting on songs from the jukebox, dancing around with the golden hair girl when her little body wanted to jump around, rather than just sit.

Stepping out into the night, the warm glow shines warm onto the wooden porch, casting everything in a golden glow. He’s slipping his phone back into his pocket, eyes cutting over to where you stand. Elbows placed on the wood, back slightly hunched as you stare out into the distance where the ocean meets the inky black sky, the moon’s reflection rippling along the water.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat quietly as he rocks on his heels once, twice, before cracking his neck. He turns and makes his way over slowly.

“Nice night, huh?”

Are you serious? That’s all you have?

You’re quick to straighten when you hear his voice, head turning to look at the person who’s just disturbed your moment of peace before going back into the chaos that awaits you inside. The tense look on your face melts slowly into irritation when you notice who it is.

He’s charming, you’ll give him that, and he doesn’t bathe in that Nautica cologne the men inside seemingly all wear — it’s something woodsy, maybe with a hint of cashmere — sweet, and an underlying scent of something fresh. It’s a confusing mix, but it’s decent and definitely something that sets him apart from anyone else you’ve encountered over the past couple of months that you’ve actually worked here.

The smile he gives is sly, something that’s almost close to teasing but not quite. You don’t expect anything less from a man like Jake ‘Bagman’ Seresin.

“It was a nice night,” You turn back towards the ocean, realizing you might’ve been staring at him a little too long than necessary. “Before you had to come out here with that sly smirk on your face and ruin it.”

He steps closer, leaning his hip against the wooden post. His arms cross and your eyes betray you by taking a quick glance at the tanned skin around his bicep that bulges slightly against his uniform that’s tapered to his body, so much without a wrinkle or stain.

He’s irritably perfect.

“So, you’re saying that little thing Conor pulled in there was the highlight of your night? Instead of seeing me?” Your eyes drift up to his face. He smirks — he’s noticed. Of course he’s noticed, Jake is not only skillfully trained in the sky, but he’s skillfully equipped to read a woman.

You let out a small huff, glancing at the time from the clock you can see through the window. Pushing yourself from the post, your hands make a show of dusting off imaginary dust from the front of your pants. “I have no clue who Conor is, but—”

“The dude with a half finished sleeve.”

Your eyes cut up towards him and he can’t help but smile, noticing the way the warm light of the fairy lights catch making them shine. The look on your face is anything but pleasant, a slight scowl and then a roll of your eyes. “Okay well, thanks for that information — that I did not care to know,” You begin to walk past him, causing his body to turn so he can watch you walk off. “But, I need to get back to work. I have no time for your over-used, sucky one liners, Seresin.”

“I haven’t even used my best ones.”

Your hand lands on the handle of the door, hissing slightly under your breath as you glance over at him. “Sad. I was really looking forward to hearing them,” You pout slightly. “Your time is up though.”

The door opens and he waves, just to watch your face melt into a scowl once more. “I’ll wait around, maybe share some with you. How does that sound?”

“Oh, lovely.” You disappear back inside, leaving him to huff out a quiet laugh with a shake of his head. He feels his phone begin to vibrate against his thigh, his hand quick to reach into his pocket. The contact name Emma lights up his phone with a facetime call, his thumb sliding to answer.

It takes a moment, but he becomes a small rectangle towards the right side of his screen before his little mini-me pops up. Bright, green eyes and a wide smile. “Hi, Daddy!”

Jake grins. “Hi, sweet-pea. How are you? How was your day?” The phone wiggles around and he notices the red stain near the corner of her mouth from spaghetti sauce — something that she requests almost every night.

“Fun! Emma took me to the zoo!”

“Oh, that does sound like so much fun! You’ll have to tell me more about it tomorrow.” Because if he says to tell him about it now, she will. Plus throw in something that, in fact, did not happen.

“When will you be home?”

“Soon. Daddy’s playing with Auntie Nat and the rest of the crew,” She gasps and he chuckles a bit. “She said she’ll come visit you soon,” Amelia squeals and he lets out a soft laugh once more, glancing up when he notices people making their way out of the bar.

“Alright, sweet-pea. I’ll be home soon, alright? Don’t give Emma a hard time when she tries to clean up, okay?”

“Alright. I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you.” The call ends and he shoves his phone back into his pocket making his way back inside. Natasha is the last one at the pool table, grabbing her jacket from a lone chair in the corner. She turns, slipping her arms through the sleeves.

“How’s Mil?”

“Good. I’m afraid she’s going to turn into a noodle though, from how much she eats spaghetti in a week.”

Natasha laughs at that, patting his arm. “We still good for this weekend?” She motions outside towards the beach. The picnic that had become an unspoken part of their Saturday’s, including the little bundle of joy that never fails to keep them entertained before falling asleep on the blanket, yet somehow ending up in the sand.

“Yeah. She’s excited — as always. Probably tell you all about her trip to the zoo.”

“And to the castle,” Natasha offers with a sly grin, pulling her keys from her pocket. Jake huffs slightly, nodding, reaching for his own jacket. “See you tomorrow, Bagman.” He groans, opening his mouth to reply with his distaste for the call-name, but she’s already stepping out of the Hard Deck.

Jake shakes his head, watching as she walks off the steps and towards the Ford Explorer parked out front.

“We’re closed.” The voice is annoyed, plain, tired. Jake glances over, eyes landing on you as you yank the trash from the bin, tying it up. He’s quick on his feet to meet you once you step out from behind the counter, taking the trash.

“I’ll take this out for you.”

Your lips pull into a frown, wanting to make a scene, but not necessarily enjoying carrying a heavy load of trash and tossing it over your head. Instead, your hands land on your hips. “What’s your goal, Bagman?”

His eyes narrow slightly. “First of all, Hangman, not Bagman,” You hum without any interest, brows slowly lifting as if to say ‘get to the point’. “Second of all, there’s no goal. I see someone attractive, I shoot my shot.”

“Yeah, well,” You turn and head towards the back. “You’ve practically missed every shot. Just give up already.”

“What?”

You stop in your steps and glance over your shoulder at him. “I said to give up already.”

“Mm, see,” He turns and makes his way towards the door. “I don’t understand the term ‘give up already’. It’s not in my vocabulary,” You turn and cross your arms over your chest now.

“You doing anything Saturday?”

“Maybe,” You shift slightly, clearing your throat. “Why?”

“Too bad. Was wondering if you’d like to join us for a picnic down by the beach,” He motions towards the window. He knows you're lying, you have nothing to do on Saturday’s. “But, hey. Maybe next time, right?” He winks, before pushing the door open.

Your jaw clenches slightly, listening to him as he begins to whistle before jogging down the steps, an extra little skip to it. Rolling your eyes, your turn and pushing the door open, stepping into the cooler to check for the next order.

Definitely not to cool off or anything.

—

Bob was helping Amelia build up the sandcastles next to the sand-angels they had started on as soon as he had arrived. Jake was setting up the new umbrella he’d bought for when she fell asleep and he couldn’t move from the grip — or because he fell asleep too.

Natasha is sort of just floating in the water with Bradley, Mickey, and Reuben, sunglasses on with water droplets that splash onto the dark lens and the seltzer can each of them hold.

Penny is in a lawn chair next to Pete, the radio playing some song that he remembers playing in Shrek. He chuckles to himself before lifting from his hunched form.

“I told Daddy it’s silly to wear blue jeans to the beach.” He catches Amelia say. Bob lets out a small snort, digging more sand into the plastic, green pail. He glances over at Bob, narrowing his eyes.

“It is a bit silly, huh?” Bob grins and glances at Jake.

Jake rolls his eyes and pops open the cooler, grabbing a juice box. He stands straighter, pulling the small plastic straw from the box, stabbing it through the small hole. He looks back towards the ocean with a hand on his hip, sipping from the juice box, before glancing towards the side.

He pauses, pulling the straw from his mouth just an inch, watching as you trek through the sand with some sandals in your hand. Penny’s already cheering, standing from her chair. “You actually made it.”

“I had nothing else to do and thought it’d be nice to join everyone,” You smile, giving her a hug. “Meet some new people.” Penny pats her back, nodding as she pulls away.

“We haven’t eaten yet, we’re still waiting for some people to show up. Set up, though! Grab a drink!” You nod and pull away from her, eyes connecting with Jake’s as you make your way around and spread out a blanket.

Your eyes drop towards the juice box in his hand, smirking slightly. “Don’t drink too many of those,” You nudge your chin slightly towards his hand. “You might not be able to walk straight at the end of the day if you do.”

“Funny.” He rolls his eyes. She grins and pulls out her bottle of sunscreen.

“I thought so too. I’m glad you agree.”

“I take it I’m not the only one to invite you?”

You hum softly, squeezing some into the palm of your hand, beginning to rub it down your arm and up to your shoulder. “Maybe not.” You shrug slightly.

“But my invitation was what you needed to come, huh?” He grins, back to the sucky one liners. Your hand stops, squinting and cutting your eyes over at him.

“Will it knock your ego down if I tell you no? Maybe humble you a bit?”

“Sweetheart,” He smirks and you feel your stomach flip from the name rolling off of his tongue and the way his lips brush the tip of the straw. “It’d take a lot to humble me. But, I’d love to see you try.”

You stare at him for a quiet moment, watching as his lips finally wrap around the small plastic straw once more. Huffing, you turn back to focusing on rubbing in the lotion.

The back of your neck burns and your heart beats loudly in your chest — you’re almost afraid Jake could hear it from where he stands.

One thing you know; Jake Seresin is a pest.

#𝜗𝜚 cherry’s posting #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n

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