hanginginthevoid

[hanginginthevoid]

david corenswet's wife is the other woman in the story of my life..

[hanginginthevoid]

pairing: joaquin torres x reader

a/n: holy. im so happy to finally be pushing this out. im not proud of the ending bc i just DIDN’T know how to end it, but it needed to be finished finally. hopefully it doesn’t disappoint bc i wasn’t planning on doing a pt.2 so it wasn’t as thought out as the first part.. also not proofread…. 

summary: You think life’s going to be better, easier, after leaving Joaquin since you couldn’t remember him. Months later when you finally do remember something about him, you find out how wrong you are. Would he still be waiting around for you?

warnings: amnesia mention, nothing else tho lmk if i missed sumn!!

wc: 4.5k

dividers by @cafekitsune !!

It's been months since you’ve seen Joaquin. Months since you left him at the house that the two of you bought together. Months since you’ve told him that you couldn’t torture him with false hope of you being able to remember your relationship anymore. 

You hadn’t talked with anyone about it. Your parents tried at first, Joaquin was the son-in-law that they never had but would always love. But then they realized that it was too touchy of a subject. 

Your new found friends didn’t need to know about him yet. What would you even say? ‘Oh yeah, I have a man who loves me but not me me, a me from before I had amnesia, and I think about how I failed to remember him on the daily.’

It’s extremely unfortunate, and just your luck, that the day you finally do get a memory of Joaquin back, it's with one of your new friends. 

You met Iris at a bonsai tree cutting class that the plant shop you work at hosted. It seemed like a fun experience that would leave you with a great conversation starter when you finally got around to getting a new apartment.

Iris and you were sitting at the same workbench, she was chattering filling the silence that you were so comfortably sat in. Still, you indulged her with soft hums and nods of agreement when it seemed fit. 

After a couple of drinks, you had opened up. You’d think Iris would have talked less since she actually had a verbal partner now. Instead she seemed to talk more, diving into facts that were almost entirely irrelevant to the story before circling back to her main point. 

After that it was like you had been adopted. Iris would bring you coffee on your morning shifts, stopping by and chatting while you waited for any customers to come in. When you’d work the afternoons she’d see if you wanted to go out for drinks or dinner after. She incorporated you into her friend group, inviting you on their outings to the beach or an escape room.

Today, for a change, you’ve invited Iris out. A new brunch spot has opened up and you’ve been itching to try it. They focused on specialty french toast, mixing different cereals or dessert profiles to create almost a whole new taste.

You had gotten the cinnamon toast crunch flavor, seemed like something that couldn’t be messed up and it definitely would still taste good with syrup all over it. Iris had opted for fruity pebbles, her sweet tooth showing itself. 

Iris’ eyes lit up, shining brighter than most stars, the second she placed her first bite in her mouth. Her lips turned upward grinning at you as she chewed. 

“It's so good! You have to try this!” Then she’s cutting off a piece and holding her fork out in front of your face. When you realize she's going to feed you, you take a quick swig of water to try and cleanse your palate to get the best taste possible. 

It’s sweet, very very sweet. Something that a child would beg for every morning because it felt like they were having candy for breakfast. You’re chewing, nodding your head to show Iris that you agree in the fact that it’s good, when your head starts to pound.

It's thick, banging against the back of your eyes, spreading to your temples with a barely visible throb to the veins that rest there. It comes with a memory. One you’re not familiar with. 

Your hands come to rest on your forehead, trying to compress your head as if that would help, elbows resting on the table. You can hear Iris saying something, but it’s distant. Her voice is drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears. 

You can feel your back being pressed into the countertop at Joaquin's house in your memory. You’re standing there in a tank top and your underwear, Joaquin is positioned at the stove in just a pair of sweats. Then you hear your own voice, “It's gonna be too sweet babe, I’m tellin’ you.”

“It’s not gonna be too sweet.” He saunters over to you, hands caging you in against the counter, “If anything you’re too sweet.” He’s laughing, pressing soft kisses against your lips before heading back to the stove.

Joaquin grabs the spatula he’s been using and takes one of the pieces of his ‘rainbow toast’ off the pan. He pours a bit of syrup onto the plate, then tears off one of the edges of the toast. He swipes the piece through the syrup, getting a decent coating, and heads towards you.

One hand grabs your chin, slightly tugging it downwards. The other lifts the food to your lips, pushing it through the slight gap he’s made. Joaquin’s smirking at you as you start to chew, like he knows something you don’t.

You’re quick to realize that he does know something you don’t. He knew it wasn’t going to be too sweet. It was just the right amount of sweet, the flavor profile meshing together so well that you felt like Remy from Ratatoulie when he had cheese and strawberries together for the first time.

“‘s good.” You’re smiling back at him, slightly shaking your head in disbelief.

“Told you,” His hands are on your hips, thumbs caressing them softly. Joaquin leans in, lips brushing your cheek as he speaks, “Sometimes I can be right too.” He’s kissing your cheek, down the column of your neck towards your shoulder, then you’re suddenly snapped back to reality.

Iris is grasping your shoulders, shaking slightly. She’s got a deep crease in her brow, her worry evident. When you meet her eyes, it seems to quell some of her unease, the crease unfolding a small amount. 

“Hey there,” Iris is rubbing her hands down your shoulder to your biceps, then restarting, “Thought I lost you for a second there.”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You grab her hands from your shoulders, holding them tightly, “Sorry. I literally just got the worst migraine ever, can I just like, cashapp you for the food so I can head home?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course! Just go take care of yourself.”

“I’ll text you later,” You’re grabbing your bag, getting your keys out of it before slinging it over your shoulder, “Promise.”

They say time heals all. Joaquin would disagree. 

He would say time does not, time can’t, heal all. It’s been 7 months, 18 days, and 13 hours, since you left. Since you decided that it wasn’t worth trying to remember Joaquin anymore. And he hasn’t felt an ounce of comfort since.

Not when his mother stayed long after she was supposed to go home. Making him his favorite meals, letting him rest his head on her lap as she ran her fingers comfortingly over his scalp and scratching his shoulders.

Not when Sam, and sometimes Bucky, would come and visit him. Drag him out of the house, making sure that he got fresh air, and that he moved his body. Sometimes they’d train, Sam showing Joaquin one of his special Falcon moves, trying to give him a win. 

Not when he boxed up everything that you left behind. Moved it into the guest room and locked the door. He tried to gain the ‘Out of sight, out of mind mentality’, but it started to eat at him. Knowing that the last bits of you were just behind one door, one measly door. The next morning, all your trinkets had returned to their prior places, the kitchen towel you loved placed over the oven handle, and your favorite candle lit.

Joaquin may be to blame. He did spend the first few months of your absence using his military clearance to check-in on you. Nothing serious, just following your movements and seeing who you’re making relationships with. On a really bad day he checked to see if you changed your coffee order; you didn’t.

He didn’t mean to push any boundaries. In his defense, you would never know about it anyways. He just wanted you to be safe and since he couldn’t physically keep an eye on you, this was the next best thing.

But then Sam found out. 

Then there was a long lecture about personal space, and how what he was doing was illegal. Sam reminded him that you made your choice and even though Joaquin didn’t like it, he had to honor it. 

So he tried to fill the void that you left with new things. He’s gone out, made new friends, found new restaurants, tried new running routes, even rearranged the house. Some may have found it difficult to sustain, every hour of his schedule accounted for and something planned. 

And it worked! Having his brain always preoccupied left him little time to think, little time to consider the what if’s. But then in the back of his mind there would be a nagging, small voice, reminding him of you.

How you’d love the menu at the new Mediterranean place downtown. How you’d tell him his new morning route is boring, and there’s nothing interesting to look at. How he knows for a fact you wouldn’t care about the way he rearranged the house, because somehow without trying he’s got a better lighting scheme going on and now you can do your makeup in natural lighting instead of artificial.

It ate away at him. Slowly gnawing away at his soul. Rotting the edges of his mind, leaving him unable to function without considering you. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was tiring. The emptiness got old fast, and it’s passing the point of exhaustion. 

But Joaquin knew reaching out wouldn’t matter. You’d only remind him that you didn’t, couldn’t feel anything for him. And then he’d be back at square one, an aching hole in his chest from disbelief of the situation.

So he’d stay silent. Suffering. And he’d be content, knowing he was protecting your peace in a way.

You spent the last three days huddled in your room. You had texted Iris that you’d made it home safe and that you would plan something as soon as you were feeling up to it, but after that you’ve had minimal contact to the outside world.

It felt wrong to not say anything to Joaquin. To not inform him that what he waited on for months finally happened, seemed like a crime. However, telling him seemed extremely selfish.

He had told you specifically not to get green skin, to reach out whenever for anything. But you hadn’t. You chose to give him radio silence, chose to leave him in the dark about what was happening in your life. 

It would be wrong to finally reach out. Joaquin’s probably moved on with his life. He’s probably focusing on his job, training his specialized moves as the Falcon. Or maybe he’s got a new girlfriend, someone who would accept all his advances and appreciate them, appreciate him.

You always appreciated his efforts, knew that he was a good man. No, he was a great man. Always doing above and beyond, making sure that you knew how important you were to them. That’s why you’re so hesitant, so on edge, about telling him you finally remember him. 

What if you became a home wrecker? Not intentionally, but if he really did find someone else, you’d possibly come between them by reaching out. You weren’t that type of person, never one for drama anyway. 

Maybe you could reach out under the guise that you just wanted to see how he’s doing. That you were checking up because he took care of you for so long that it’d be rude not to. But he’s not stupid, Joaquin would definitely know you were up to something. 

You pick up your phone, for the nth time, and find your way back to Joaquins contact. Then your fingers start to type, just a simple ‘hey! just wanted to check in, how’s it goin?’. But then you’re holding your thumb on the backspace button, restarting the message. 

‘hey, how’ve you been holding up?’ delete.

‘hey, i finally got some of my memory back.’ delete.

‘hey, can you talk sometime soon?’ delete.

You’ve been mulling over the fact that this would definitely be a conversation better had in person. You could book a ticket and be there within a couple of days max. Would that be overstepping? 

Grabbing your laptop and powering it up, you search for plane tickets. You’re not gonna buy it yet, but it’d be nice to know how much of a dent would be in your bank account. You wouldn’t need a checked bag so that saves you at least a hundred bucks, and all the sudden it’s more real than ever that you could do this.

You grab your phone again, typing in one of your original messages about checking in and seeing how Joaquin’s doing. Before you can change your mind or allow your better judgement to kick in, you press the send button. 

Your phones on do not disturb before you power it down, just to ensure that you don’t get a random notification and get your hopes up. With your luck Joaquin wouldn’t even answer.

Should you pack a bag, just in case he feeds into your delusions and is willing to meet up? No that’s too forward, it would be giving yourself too much hope. You’ll just browse hotels instead, something cheap, just to get you through the night.

It’s about an hour later when you snap out of it. Realizing how ridiculous you are. Really believing that he would respond after months of no contact. You slam the laptop shut, probably harder than needed, and hop out of bed to get something to eat before turning in for the night.

You’ll be refreshed in the morning. The pressure of reaching out no longer making your chest cave in. Then you’ll go on about your life, making plans with Iris and picking up a few shifts to make up for the days that you missed.

The new resolve that's planted itself in your brain helps you get to sleep easily. More than ready, almost excited for the day ahead.

With ‘do not disturb’ on it's easy to forget that you sent a text. Only your favorite contacts being able to break through leaves you with nothing but the important stuff. So your whole morning routine is spent in blissful ignorance. 

There’s a lull at work, you’re bored and need a break from doomscrolling, so there you are, checking the notification bar before you know it. It’s a bunch of meaningless stuff from the games on your phone, some instagram and tiktok notifications, and then a text. 

You almost click on it, out of reflex more than anything, but then you remember that this isn’t just one of your friends asking to get ice cream. Joaquin’s response is simple, ‘hey!! everythings good here, what about you? anything exciting?’

Checking when the message was sent, you find that his response came only 13 minutes after you texted him. Now you seem like a jerk, texting him and then not responding in a timely manner. 

‘everythings good, just thinking about you since im in the area’

It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. There’s no guarantee that Joaquin would ask to meet up. But you don’t want to play a game of cat and mouse around what you really reached out for, so you send another text. 

‘was thinking we could meet up if you werent too busy?’

The rest of your day goes by swiftly, constantly checking your phone whenever you had a few free seconds. Joaquin doesn’t get back to you until later that night. He was probably busy with work, or the girlfriend you were assuming he had.

He does eventually respond, telling you he’d be free the day after tomorrow, and the two of you could go wherever you want.

Great. 

Now you really have to get a plane ticket, and a hotel. And it would have been really nice to have packed that bag already. 

The city’s been busy, a complete difference from your hometown. No matter the time there’s people moving about, driving around. You flew in early, well technically not early but a full day before you were supposed to meet with Joaquin.

It seemed wrong to meet at one of the locations Joaquin had shown you when he was originally trying to get your memory back. Those places already had deep seeded memories that he held, and assuming that this meeting would go worse than expected, you didn’t want to soil them. 

So you tried new places, explored popular locations, searched out hole-in-the-walls, anything that seemed like it could be neutral ground. 

Nothing too restaurant-like, that would instigate the want for long conversation.

A cafe would be nice, grabbing a quick coffee and maybe a pastry? You’d have to make sure to request a togo cup, or maybe find a place that only gave out togo cups. 

There was a nice breakfast bagel spot by your hotel. Would that be too much like a meal? Maybe, but most breakfasts are fast anyway.

You’re sitting in your hotel room bed when you pull out your phone to text him about your decision.

‘hey! there’s a decent bagel spot near my hotel i was thinking we could go there?’

Maybe Joaquin hates bagels though. You hadn’t considered that in your thought process. It wasn't something you’ve been graced with remembering. Fingers start flying, anxiety fueling them.

‘we dont have to ofc, just lmk if you have somewhere else in mind’

The nerves have settled, not in a good way though. They coat your whole body like a thick layer of sweat. Every movement you make, every breath that you inhale, has a new weight to it. 

You don’t have to sit with it for long though. Joaquin texts back quickly, you assume because you waited until the last moment to give him a location. However you hope it’s because he’s excited about this, maybe even as nervous as you are.

It’d be wrong to show up after him when you were the one to invite him out. So you pull on your shoes, grab your wallet, and your room key before rushing towards the bagel shop. 

You don’t actually see Joaquin walk in. Some sort of sixth sense alerts you to him. The hairs on the back of your neck and your arm rising, making the shift in the atmosphere noticeable to you.

When you turn to see what’s got your body on edge, you see him. From what you can see, he looks good, looking at his phone as he types out a message.

His military training must kick in, alerting him that someone's watching, and Joaquin looks up to meet your eyes. A smile graces his face,but  it’s not like the one you saw in your memory.

You remember him beaming, teeth shining, face stretching so wide you were worried his skin might tear. This smile is small, reserved even, his lips are pulled tight together like something about smiling is making him uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Joaquin's closer now, standing a few feet to your left, “Did you order yet?” You can see him eying your coffee cup, his hands fidgeting where they rest in his pockets.

You shake your head, “Not yet. Wanted a recommendation since you said you liked this place.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be back in a few then,” He’s off as fast as he came, heading into line. 

Joining him would be a smart choice. It’d be odd to invite him out for food, and not get anything. But your stomach’s churning, the nerves from earlier coming back tenfold. All of them settling in and around your stomach, leaving it like a boulder in your torso. You couldn’t imagine trying to stomach food with this feeling, so you decide to stay put.

You know when Joaquin comes back because he slides you a bagel wrapped in tinfoil from where he sits across from you. When you look up, you see he’s got a similar set-up to you. A coffee on his right and a seemingly identical bagel.

With a slight nod of his head in the direction of your food he speaks, “It’s a bacon, egg, and cheese with a hashbrown and ketchup.” 

After the first bite, you’re letting Joaquin know how good it is. Your eyes lighting up as you sift through all the different textures and taste all the flavors together for the first time. 

You only get a couple of more bites in before Joaquin is questioning you. It’s not rude, not aggressive, just a simple ‘So what’s going on in your life’. You can tell he’s trying to feel you out, after months of no communication it must have been odd to be asked to meet up. 

“I.. Uh - I remember you.” You take a deep breath, focusing on the way a dollop of ketchup is trying to sneak its way out of your sandwich. “Not everything, but I remember some stuff, and I thought it was important for you to know.”

“What do you remember?” Joaquin’s response is so quiet that you almost miss it in the quiet chatter that the shop has.

“The first memory was in your house, of you cooking some super, super, sweet french toast. And I had said it was going to be gross from how sweet it was, but it was actually really good.”

“Did you remember anything else?”

“Yeah, I feel like that memory was like a catalyst. Other smaller memories came back after I remembered that.” 

You finally look up after that. You’re met with Joaquin's eyes watering, his lower lip has a small quiver to it. But he looks so open, so vulnerable. 

You start to go on about how you remember how thoughtful he was, always making sure that you had flowers, and when you complained about them dying he got you a lego set that would never die and kept getting you fresh ones because ‘they smell good and add a nice pop of color’.

How he always let you pick what to watch. Anything from a  horror movie to a raunchy reality tv show. And he always got into it. He’d be barely interested at the beginning, attentive but not interested. Then somehow, some way he’d be yelling at the characters for their stupid decisions, trying to convince them to act a different way through the screen.

How he defended you. Not in an overprotective way, but when you needed it he was there. He always allowed you to have your battles, to fight your own fights, but when someone got out of line he was there. Sometimes he would just be behind you, off to the side staring the person down as a silent reminder that you may not throw a punch, but he doesn’t mind the discipline he’d get from his job so he would throw that punch.

You remember some of the nights spent star gazing, and the early mornings on the beach to catch a sunrise. Telling him how you specifically remember him letting you get as much sleep as possible in both scenarios. How he woke up earlier or stayed up later to prepare a blanket, spare hoodie, pillows, and some snacks. 

“You remember all that?” Joaquin's crying now. It must be subconscious because he hasn’t started sniffling or really acknowledged the fact that there's tears rolling down his cheeks and eventually falling off his chin.

Your hand reaches out to comfort him before you stop yourself, “I know it’s not everything, but I think it’s a lot. Compared to last time at least.” 

After a few too many beats of silence you remember that he's probably found somebody else by now.

“I don’t want to get in between anything you’ve got going on though! I just think it’d be wrong, morally, to not tell you.”

“I don’t - What do you mean ‘anything i’ve got going on’?”

“Like a relationship! It’s been a while since I left and I didn’t really… show any signs of life from when I left until now.” 

Oh. 

Maybe it was a dumb assumption. Joaquin had been nothing if not devoted the whole time he was trying to help you regain your memories. You’ve put your foot in your mouth. 

“I’m not dating anyone.” He gently tips your chin up from where you’ve started to tuck it into your chest, forcing you to look at him, “It was you or nothing. Even told my mom that after our second date. Would have been the first but it took you a bit to open up.”

“So you’d be willing to try again? Even if it takes me a while to remember? Even if I might not remember everything?” 

Joaquin's tongue comes out to briefly wet his lips, pulling the bottom one between his teeth after. Then he smiles, much more genuine than the first one he gave you. The outer ends of his lips downturned, his eyes holding so much love, so much adoration that it makes you overwhelmed. 

For someone you haven’t spoken to in months, it’s shocking that he still cares so heavily for you. Any request you could make, he would complete it and still come back and ask if there’s anything else you need. 

“I’d seek you out, waiting for the opportunity to try, until my lungs collapsed.”

You never thought you’d experience someone waiting for you, through thick and thin, through you completely forgetting them, through you leaving them high and dry. Most people would have given up long ago, even before you originally left. 

Joaquin is just so good, it fills your heart. New feelings of warmth and fondness settle deep in your chest, where it then flows through your veins heading out to the rest of your body. The way that he makes it so undeniably clear that he loves you, brings tears to your eyes. 

For most, the distance would be difficult. Not being in the same city to make same day plans could kill a lot of relationships, but you know it wouldn’t matter for you and Joaquin. He’s given you nothing but reassurance throughout your entire time of knowing him. 

When you leave, the two of you can discuss all the logistics and how to make everything work with your schedules. But for now, you can bask in the glow of coming back together. The atmosphere seeming to have a golden hue to it. It seems like the universe wanted this to happen, time slowing down for the two of you to catch up. 

An unknown feeling takes over you. No longer feeling the need to fill space, the need to keep going even when you’re exhausted. One of bliss, almost ecstasy, coating every nerve. It’s like you came home finally. 

You can’t wait to see how else Joaquin makes you feel in this new chapter of your life. It’s going to be hard to top, but there’s no doubt in your mind that he could beat it.

tags: @mischiefmanaged71 , @angerfever , @lucycarlisleswife , @dyanasaur

[hanginginthevoid]

I swear im working on pt2 of the cut that always bleeds - im just super busy and haven't had time to write. Im gonna try and finish it before my vacation tho!!

[hanginginthevoid]

one cruel mind

SUMMARY You're humiliated how much a dream of Bob cheating on you gets to your head, but he has no problem showing you that you're it for him, for the rest of your lives.

PAIRING bob reynolds x gender neutral!thunderbolt!reader

GENRE hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship

WORD COUNT 1.4k

WARNINGS not proofread, mentions of cheating, descriptions of relationship insecurity & self-doubt, lots of begging and yearning, sentry and the void linger around if you look hard enough, no mention of Y/N

AUTHOR’S NOTE just had to let this idea out of my system. i tried to keep this under 800 words, but alas..

Bob doesn’t know what he did wrong.

You’d been short with him all day: half-assed responses, glances that were less than, your eyes never meeting his own, your whole body slightly skewed away from him whenever he’s beside you. He was lucky to even have you present in the same room as him. He knew he’d drive you away eventually— constantly anticipating the possibility— he just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

The out of place behavior was extended towards your teammates tenfold, but Bob at least expected to be your exception. He always was, you reassured him he was; he supposes he got ahead of himself. 

You had created a safe space for him: making sure he was heard by the rest of the team when the volume among them raises, going out of your way to check up on him in his room even if you lie and tell him you were just passing by, noting down observations of what he likes and doesn’t to make sure you never make him uncomfortable by accident. You knew him.

He spirals recalling all the things you did for him like it was second nature. Maybe it became all too much for you, maybe he didn’t reciprocate your love enough, maybe you realized that he was no longer worth your time.

Bob’s brain doesn’t process that he’s already walking away from his warm seat in the living room and towards your bedroom where you scurried off to after barely eating dinner. You’ve always gone out of your way to make sure he was alright, it would never hurt him to do the same.

His knuckles tentatively grazed your door for a few seconds before knocking lightly so as not to startle you. He lets a few seconds of nothing pass before knocking once more. “Can I come in?”

“...Not right now.” It’s barely there, but he hears it. He’s thankful he does. He rests his forehead on the rich dark wood and lets out a pleading sigh, akin to a pained whimper.

“Please, I need to see you. Need to hear your voice again.”

You give into his begging; it’s difficult not to. Bob immediately hears the mechanisms of your door turning to reveal you behind it. You’re holding the same defeated expression you had the whole day, still avoiding eye contact, and he wants nothing more than to make it all go away. At this point he doesn’t care as he steps in your space, closing the door behind him, and his hands quickly move to cup yours. His expression falls, however, when he sees you tense up. But something in him doesn’t want to release you, so he doesn’t.

“My love, let me go.”

Familiar, yet unwelcoming gold specks flicker in his eyes. They’re gone as fast as they came. “Funny how you call me love in the same breath you tell me to let go.”

His grip on your hands is commandingly gentle; it’s not tight enough to hurt you. (The word yet lingers dangerously behind that sentence.) You try to pull your hands away, but they’re as heavy as metal to a magnet. You can only plead to him to let go. “Bob… please.” 

He shakes his head, snapping out of it, trying to erase the possibility of breaking up with you out of his mind. He doesn’t want to exist in a lifetime where he lets you slip through his fingers knowing it was his fault, something that could have been fixed. Bob’s lower lip gets caught between his teeth before he speaks again. “What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” 

You want to caress his jaw, thumb at his lower lip to release it from the abuse of his bite. Instead, you shift ever so slightly, finding the flooring more interesting. Despite the desperation, he waits for you. Two minutes pass.

“I had a dream that you cheated on me.”

Tension clouds your room. You know it’s absurd, to let a figment of your cruel imagination affect you this badly to the point of almost reinviting self-isolation. He looked wounded, like he’d actually done something to hurt you, like you’d accused him of actually cheating on you. It takes him a moment to realize this was no longer about him and wasted no more time to reassure you.

“Baby,” the desperation in his voice made something in the pit of your stomach stir. His hands move up to your elbows to pull you closer, “look at me, please.”

You don’t hold his intense gaze for more than half a beat, a lump instantly manifesting in your throat. How humiliating, you think to yourself. Tears pool in your waterline like a basin left outside to collect rainwater during a storm; it almost overflows. “It’s pathetic. I’ll get over it, just come back lat—”

His palm brushes against your cheek as he holds your face. You know you can’t defeat the urge to lean in, you don’t fight it. Your eyes flutter closed so he doesn’t stare into your soul, doesn’t see how much the mere idea of him being with someone else pains you, swallowing your being whole. His composure breaks when he sees you force your saliva down to discard any tears dangerously wanting to flow free. Bob thinks he’s about to cry, too.

“Let— I need to see you.”

You start to heave as your eyes slowly open, still afraid of what he’ll say. Ironic, because he isn’t even capable of thinking bad about you. Guilt starts to follow after realizing this fact, but you don’t even know when your previous emotions started in the first place. All you knew is that you needed him out of your room to regulate whatever you were feeling. 

Your plans of self-reflection evaporate as soon as you properly meet his eyes for the first time today. He looks at you so hurt and longingly that you can’t help but lay it all on him. He wouldn’t want it any other way; he wants to hear it. “Bob, this is so fucking dumb. You know I would never accuse you of cheating. I… I loathe how my brain feeds me the most absurd shit ever and it makes me start thinking that you’d be so much happier with someone else.”

In the midst of your monologue, you don’t realize that his other hand found its way to rub your back to soothe you. Once you do while trying to pace your breathing, it’s enough to tip the basin over. You choke almost violently on a sob, “You’re too good for me.”

He’s quick to kiss your tears away, you wouldn’t be surprised if the immediate action gave him whiplash. He’s indifferent to the ones that pour out of his own eyes. “You’re too good for me.”

Bob blots away your remaining tears with his thumbs. He knows he looks as guilty as he feels. “Fuck, I’m sorry I don’t do enough for you. I’m sorry I let there be room for doubt. I’m so sorry I don’t tell you enough, but I love you.”

You’re desperate to keep him to yourself, to have his lips against yours, to feel him; urgency to use him as an anchor blinds you. The needy and impulsive kiss you share with Bob is salty. He syncs himself to your rhythm, relaxing against your touch as your hands wipe his tears, and finally resting them on his nape to pull him deeper into your lips. Bob whimpers, ardently gripping your hips to flush you closer. There’s still too much space. You both want more, but you pull away to breathe. Fuck, if you could, you’d suffocate yourself to death while loving Bob for hours on end.

He rests his forehead on yours to catch his breath. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise. I— I don’t want anyone else, okay? You’re my partner for life, if you’ll continue to have me.”

Eyes glassy with lust and love, lips puffy, chest void of the inner turmoil built up from the morning until nightfall. You muster a shy, wet smile; he immediately returns it, his expression no more composed than yours. “That better be a promise. I’ll love you for as long as we’re alive. It’s you and me, Bob.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of ease, “It’s you and me.”

[hanginginthevoid]

Reunions and Resolved Misunderstandings — Cal Kestis x gn! reader

summery: feeling like an outcast, you're the first one to leave the Mantis' crew. years later, you stumble across Cal once again and old feelings end up bursting to light in the worst of ways. At the very least, misunderstandings are finally cleared.

tw: mentions of killing/assassination (readers past), hurt/comfort, slight spoilers for the beginning of Jedi Survivor.

a/n: I got to the kiss in Jedi Survivor and inspiration struck. I can see how every Cal fic is about 4k words long, its hard not to write so much for him lmao.

wc: 3.1k

Master List

It had been as clear as day. The connection between Cal and Merrin was undeniable. It made your stomach churn. You were with Cere and Greez when you saved him from Bracca and had been glued to his side ever since…that was until Merrin joined. Don’t get me wrong, you loved her and was glad to offer her a new home…but every time your eyes landed on the two you felt your heart twist. In response to this new development you distanced yourself. Tried to smile past the ache in your heart and enjoy what you had. But it was hard, and it didn’t help that Cere and Greez seemed to know of your predicament. 

It hurts, seeing the man you loved, who came to you for medical treatment, or would count on you to watch his back, to slowly slip through your fingers. His green eyes that used to sparkle when landing on you had now turned to look at Merrin. How his lingering touches had all but vanished, leaving your skin feeling colder than normal. What made you feel even worse were your thoughts of leaving. Cal wasn’t your only priority, you had Cere, Greez, Merrin…but everytime you found yourself forgetting about the pain it seemed to always hit once more full force. 

This is how you found yourself packing your things…not that you had much. Just some extra clothes, some photos of your crew, and some gifts that BD-1 and Cal had given you. Double checking your blaster, daggers, knives, and the case that held your sniper, you found yourself contemplating if you really wanted to go through with this. That was when you realized you couldn’t handle watching the one you love end up in someone else’s arms, it was easier to leave altogether. As quietly as you could, you made your way through the Mantis, memories of your friends, almost family popped up every so often. 

With the ship lights off, you couldn’t be more thankful for your specialized contact lenses. Everyone was sleeping in their quarters…or at least they were supposed to be. You froze as you ran into Greez, and as his gaze landed on you he seemed to deflate. 

“You’re really just gonna leave like that?” He asked, his voice low to keep from accidentally waking anyone up. 

“I’m sorry,” You murmured, not able to look in his direction. “I just…”

“I get it kid,” He sighed. “The others won’t be so happy, but I’m glad I caught you on the way out.”

“I’m glad to have met you all,” You tried to console, but you weren’t sure if you were trying to console Greez or yourself. “I’ll be forever grateful to you and Cere for saving me. Here,” Taking out a piece of paper, you handed it to the Latero. “It's a note, I know the way I’m leaving is shitty, but I couldn’t leave without letting you guys know it was voluntary.”

With that, you disappeared into the night, trying your hardest not to look back.

~~~

You were the first one to leave, and soon Cal found himself watching his crew leave him one by one. He was heartbroken when Greez read aloud the note you left behind, wishing them all the best, and how you were going to a rebel base not too far from where they were. He didn’t understand why you left, or how everyone had accepted it so easily. He wished he could’ve seen you one last time, to ask you why, to plead for you to stay. When Greez finally bought Pyloon Saloon, Cal found himself resenting you slightly. You seemed to be the catalyst for everyone's departure. You were all so happy, why did you have to leave them? Why did you have to leave him? 

When he thought back of his time with you, he felt like he was choking. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw you, or what you last spoke about. Had you scolded him for getting injured? Did you laugh with him over a silly scenario with BD? Or was it that lonely gaze you sent him as he joked with Merrin, not paying any mind to you. Are you happy now? Have you made new friends? Have you found someone to confide in? Cal’s heart hurt no matter how he spun his head around you. Don’t get him wrong, he missed the entire crew. He missed Greez’s cooking, Merrin’s dry humor, Cere…but somehow he found himself missing you the most. How you cared for him so gently after he’d get hurt, how you’d listen to his problems and give advice that seemed far beyond your years. How even if you weren’t used to touch, you’d still allow him to hug you after a long, stressful mission.  Even with his new crew, he still felt that hollow void that the old crew left in him. No matter how lovely they were, how deeply he cared about them, he couldn’t help but reminisce of the good old days. Trapped in the past that seemed golden. Cal thought that he had been imagining you at first. Depressed after a harsh mission on Coruscant that wiped out his entire crew, seeking solace at Pyloon Saloon with Greez, he hadn’t thought he’d find you here. He felt like he’d stumbled upon an oasis after stumbling through the desert. Have you always looked so ethereal? Smiling so sweetly as you talked with Greez. You looked different, hair a new length, more mature, happier…have you always looked this happy?

Cal was snapped out of his stupor as both you and Greez turned to face the jedi. He almost got lost once more, wanting to drown in your gaze. He missed the soft way you’d look at him, how he felt cared for and loved with your eyes alone. Instead of that sweet look he was used to, your eyes filled with panic, your posture awkward as you curled in on yourself. The same way you’d react to a stranger. It felt like the dagger you’d always hide in your boot had managed to pierce through his heart. As Greez greeted Cal, you watched on the sidelines, sipping your drink as you tried to hide from Cal’s piercing gaze. 

How long has it been since you last saw Cal? It’s been quite a while. You had only planned on catching up with Greez, as you both left on the best of terms, and although Greez tried to assure you that Cal and the others still cared about you and weren’t angry, he seemed a bit hesitant. So essentially you were scared, scared of the repercussions of your own actions. Running away could only take you so far, and if you ran enough you’d end up right where you started. And you ended up running straight back to the problem of why you left. Your body tensed as Cal took a seat beside you, not aware he had already finished talking with Greez. Anxiously, you peered up at the red haired man through your eyelashes, unsure how to take his blank gaze, or the way your name gently fell past his lips.

“How have you been?” Cal asked. He couldn’t wrap his head around the various emotions you managed to stir up. Sadness, bitterness, longing, anger, regret. 

You shrugged, looking down at your drink as you stirred it, “I’ve been alright. Doing runs for the rebellion and all that. Thought I’d take a short break to check in on the old geezer.” Cal chuckled slightly, wishing for the awkwardness to dissipate, wishing for what you had to come back. “How about you?” 

“Could be better,” He hums, eyes never leaving the side of your face. Drinking in your profile as you shied away. You could tell something had happened, there was a darkness in his eyes, that shine you remember had dulled and you felt your heart break. He didn’t elaborate past that, and you knew better than to pry. A short silence washed over you, awkward, but Cal felt his heart thrum steadily. “I missed you.” You couldn’t stop yourself from looking up to him in shock, mouth slightly agape as you struggled to wrap your head around the vulnerable moment.Pushing past the way you wanted to run, having closed yourself off once again after you left the Mantis, you once again found yourself struggling to let yourself be vulnerable. But the sad puppy-like eyes Cal was sending you made you push past that, mumbling that you missed him in return.

“Why did you leave?” He asked the question you hoped to never go over. 

Once again you found yourself battling the raised walls you put up, unsure if you wanted to actually confess the true reason. Instead, you settled for a watered down version. “I guess I felt a bit left out. Like an outsider I suppose. So I decided it was best for me to leave…” 

“Left out…?” Cal couldn’t help but repeat in a whisper. Guilt suddenly consumed him, his brain finding every time he remembered seeing you on the sidelines, smiling at the moment you had witnessed. Or how you’d slink away, no one trying to stop you as they all laughed about something he couldn’t even remember. It…it was his fault.

“It’s none of your guy’s fault,” You consoled, a bitter smile lining your lips. “I should’ve spoken up about how I felt, instead I ran away like a coward.”

“But I should’ve noticed-” You quickly shut him up with a swift kick to the shin and a lighthearted glare. He gave an overdramatic wince as your kick could barely be described as a kick, more of a light tap. But he felt his heart warm as you were once again slowly opening up to him. 

“Not. Your. Fault.” You spoke sternly. “You always were so quick to take the blame.”

“Wanna help me find a gyro module for old times sake?”

~~~~

You forgot how easy it was to love Cal Kestis. That night when you left, you knew you’d always love him, he has his own special spot in your heart. But over the years those feelings were buried under layers, like sediment. Whether it be adrenaline from missions, celebration with new friends, or the death of a crew member, you find yourself focusing on other aspects of life. You hadn’t planned on running into the now infamous jedi, but even so, you hadn’t expected those old feelings to rupture forth like an exploding volcano. His boyish smile sends shockwaves to your heart. His gentle touch helping you drop down a small cliff makes you yearn to give him a hug and melt in his arms. His compliments on your skills making you puff your chest a little. It's scary how one person has so much control over your feelings, but you also miss the feeling. 

It all comes hurtling down at once when he starts going on a tangent about Merrin. It started with you asking about her and Cere, and now he won’t shut up about her growth in the time you left. You felt stupid, stupid that your heart still managed to cling to the hope that he’d felt more for you in some way. Of course he only loved you as a friend, and you were grateful, but also downtrodden. Though this time Cal seemed to pick up on your spaced out look, gently calling your name.

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked like the caring person he was.

You snapped out of your little bubble you didn’t even realize you put yourself in, bringing your gaze to the concerned one of your friend. “Nothing, I’m glad she’s doing well,” You said with a strained smile. It was left at that as both you and Cal explored Koboh, avoiding raiders to the best of your ability. Exploring the Basalt Forest, you found yourself looking at your surroundings in awe. You loved exploring different planets, watching the flora and fauna interact, from ice planets that had plants still managing to cling to life to desert planets that had a variety of animals that had adapted to the harsh climate. If you hadn’t been taught to kill from a young age and forced to be an assassin, you would’ve loved to have been a researcher. 

Unbeknownst to you, Cal was silently watching you fawn over every little thing you stumbled upon. Pointing out a bug you’ve never seen before or trying to pet those birdlike creatures that would try to charge at you. He could only watch in awe, seeing you in a completely new light. He never fully comprehended that you had a love for wildlife, or just anything that wasn’t human at that. You had always fawned over BD, leaving him feeling a bit left out, but happy the little droid made you happy. And now seeing you do the same for any animal, plant, and even some bugs…he never knew the extent of your love. Making him realize that this entire time, he only knew you through the lens he set for you. A very Cal centric lens. 

Has he ever really known you? All of you? There’s only one way to find out, and that was to get to know you. All of you. From your best aspects to your worst flaws. And as you both sat on the edge of a cliff, Cal couldn’t stop himself from watching you. The way the sun shone down on you, from your hair shining brilliantly to the way the sun made your eyes pop, he couldn’t get enough of you. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and Cal couldn’t agree more. His eyes followed as a small gust of wind blew your hair out of place, and without a second thought, he gently brushed your hair back in place, admiring your startled look. 

So many emotions overtook him. There was a warmth to your presence, whether that be through the force or not. In fact, he didn’t really care, he just wished he’d never have to be devoid of the feeling again. And as you looked at him, neither of you backing down from your little stare off, Cal felt something selfish grow within him. He wanted you to join him again, he wanted you to be there to patch him up like before, to fight by his side, to hold you close for comfort. In fact, he can’t remember why he stopped doing that, why he let you both get distant. As these selfish thoughts and desires grew, he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to look at your lips, they looked oh so inviting. 

You felt your heart skip a beat as Cal’s eyes dropped for a few seconds. No, no this wasn’t right. He clearly loved Merrin, so why was he staring at you like you had hung the stars and moon? Why was he leaning in closer? Why could you feel his breath hit your face, why is he closing his eyes? This is what you’ve always wanted, so why were you panicking? Why did you push him away, causing him to give a hurt and concerned look. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Cal stuttered. “I…I should’ve asked.”

“No, its, I,” You stumbled, trying to put together a sentence with your currently scrambled mind. “What about Merrin?”

“What?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What about her?”

Now you were the one giving him a confused look, “You clearly love her.”

“What?” Cal could hardly believe his ears. His heart dropped when your face crumbled into a tired look, releasing a long sigh as your eyes trailed back to the beautiful scenery around you.

“The way you talk about her, look at her, interact with her…it's obvious how much you care for her,” You explained. 

“Because she’s my friend,” He countered, grabbing your hand that lay on your lap. The anger you had always felt about the situation started bubbling up, your eyes squinting into a sharp glare as you grip on his hand tightened into an almost bruising grip. Your frustration made clear in the tears that started to well up.

“So then why did you forget about me!” You snarled, letting go of his calloused hand and putting some distance between you both. Your vicious look dissolved as tears rolled down your cheeks, pulling your knees up to your chest and buried your face, not wanting to see Cal’s hurt look. “We were so close, but then all you paid attention to was Merrin and I felt like an outcast. Like I didn’t belong with the crew anymore.”

You tensed when he put a hand on your back, trying to comfort you, but instead of pulling away, he pulled your curled up form into his side, holding you as you cried. “I’m sorry,” He whispered into your hair, holding you tighter. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I-its not y-your fault,” You stuttered through tears. “Instead of telling you I just left.”

“You should’ve never felt like that to begin with,” He murmured, his own eyes watering at the thought of you feeling alone like that…all because of him. 

“It's not like you can read minds,” You grumbled, sniffling as the tears slowly started to end. 

“Well…” 

You elbowed his side while trying to stifle a laugh, “Shut up, you know what I mean. It’s not your job to keep tabs on how everyones feeling at all times.”

“But I care about you,” Cal stated, pulling away enough to face you. He finds himself brushing your last few tears away, his palm resting against your cheek. “If I knew you felt like that I would’ve done something.”

“I know,” You murmured. “But we can’t change the past. What’s happened, happened.”

Resting his forehead on yours, you felt your breath hitch as Cal let out a frustrated sigh, “I’ll make it up to you.” You felt your heart stutter when he opened his eyes, determination shining clearly. “I promise.”

“I’m sure you will,” You replied, a small smile forming. Getting to finally vent out your problems seemed to have lifted a weight on your heart you didn’t realize was there the entire time. Leaning in, your heart jumped as Cal placed a sweet kiss to your cheek, standing up quickly and holding his hand out towards you. You found yourself pouting inadvertently, but taking his hand nonetheless. As he pulled you up with ease, a mischievous smirk tugged at his lips.

“How about we start tonight?” Cal asks. “I have an idea of where to start.”

“Okay,” You agreed. “Lead the way.”

Things might not have been perfect, and soon Cal will continue his journey, but for now, in this moment, everything finally fell into place.

[hanginginthevoid]

hihi!! Im Rae, welcome to my blog :p

-I only write sfw stuff, and I tend to be long winded

-I read/watch a lotta different things, so I'll write for most of them. I mainly write things I can maladaptive daydream about so I can really make it a decent story though!!

-I adore requests - and I'll do my best to write them, but no guarantees on when it'll be done; I do this for fun, (and maybe some validation..), but i have work and other things going on so I'm not always able to write super fast

Masterlist

Divider by @uzmacchiato !!

[hanginginthevoid]

Masterlist!!

Everything relevant that ive written :p

Marvel

Bob Reynolds

♡ Teddy Grahams - You've helped out the 'troubled minded' before, so Yelena thinks it'd be perfect if you helped Bob out with his 'other side' (Multiple part series, unfinished!)

♡ Privilege of Flight - you can fly. valentina needs a flying avenger. after a too good to be true deal, you end up an avenger. because you don’t want 5 people riding you into the sun, you make it a priority to teach bob how to fly so he can share the burden.

♡ The Lighthouse - you’ve always been drawn to bob. at first you think it means something, but then you remember that yelena’s also always been drawn to bob. and its obvious that he prefers her over you.

♡ Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back - almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.

♡ Blessing in Disguise - things have been great. bob’s been learning to control his powers, you’ve been able to stay above the rough waters that are college. you didn’t think that him being an avenger would be a problem, he’s barely seen on missions and rarely mingles at galas. unfortunately you were wrong.

Joaquin Torres

♡ The Cut that Always Bleeds - Joaquin was your sunshine boy, you were his starlit girl. he would do anything for you, and even though you were stronger than him, you’d gladly accept his help. when your mission is compromised, leaving you with amnesia he couldn’t help but wish he was there.

Bucky Barnes

♡ Father!Bucky Request - Bucky took you under his wing pre-blip, but after he got dusted and you didn’t, he just couldn’t accept the fact that you’ve grown. His refusal to adapt eventually pushed you away. 

Divider by @cafekitsune !!

[hanginginthevoid]

Blessing in Disguise

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

a/n: Technically pt.2 to ‘Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back,’ but i think it can be read as a standalone piece! reader is mentioned to be right-handed - not allat important but still. i hope it lives up to everyone’s standards!!

summary: things have been great. bob’s been learning to control his powers, you’ve been able to stay above the rough waters that are college. you didn’t think that him being an avenger would be a problem, he’s barely seen on missions and rarely mingles at galas. unfortunately you were wrong.

warnings: ooc bob + void, knife mentioned, reader almost gets her finger cut off, kidnapping, negligent friends?, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 3.5k

—

Since deciding to give Bob a chance, your life has been less mundane. Not because your activities or lifestyle has particularly changed, but because there's someone constantly by your side.

Bob’s always sharing stories about the team, something Walker said or did, the way Alexi still doesn’t understand social cues, the one time Bucky had to leave a televised congress meeting to go on a mission and the conversation that followed on the jet, how Ava still phases through walls because ‘it’s much more convenient’ even though everyone’s asked her not to. 

It brings a sense of excitement to your life, even though you’re not the one experiencing it. When you do actually get to meet the team it’s odd. You know so much about them, yet you’ve never heard their voices not through a screen. 

It feels a little like you’re getting interrogated. You don’t blame them for it though, with their upbringings and every experience that’s brought them to this point it makes sense. After they’ve concluded that you aren’t a sleeper agent placed to ruin them, you’re welcomed like a long lost friend.

Regardless, you don’t drop by the tower often after that. Every once in a while you would pick something up from Bob, or hang out for a few hours if he wanted company. Most of the time everyone would just go to your apartment. That drew less suspicion to you, and it let them feel free of Valentina’s clutches.

Oftentimes you’d come home from school or work and someone would be sprawled out on your couch. Or banging pots and pans in your kitchen. You’ve even caught Yelena filling up your tub for a bubble bath - twice!

So when you come home to your apartment and hear some chatter and obvious movement, it doesn’t raise suspicion. A little bit odd that more than one of them would come at the same time, but maybe someone was just getting ready to leave when another was heading in and they got to chitchatting. 

Not like they didn’t have all day to do that. Y’know. Because they live together. But you digress.

“Hey! You guys planning on staying for dinner?” You’re placing your keys and grocery bags on the counter, trying to peek around the corner so you can get a feel for how many extra portions you’d need.

You get silence as an answer. It means that they heard you, otherwise the chatter would have continued. Why wouldn’t they respond then?

You’ll give them a few minutes. They wouldn’t act this way without good reason. To fill your time you start putting the necessary foods away, keeping the ones you were going to use on the counter.

A huff leaves your lips. They can’t barge into your house, expect you to cook for them, to entertain them, and not speak to you. You’re a woman on a mission, marching out of your kitchen with your jaw set in mock seriousness.

Then you’re catching the butt of a gun to your temple, and crumpling into the man on your left. You can barely see him, vision starting to fill with black dots.

Who was he?

When did he get in here?

Who hit you?

What’s happening?

Then you’ve faded completely. Full ragdoll on the man, a bit of blood running down your face before it can soak into your hair or the man’s shirt.

—

It’s been a busy week for Bob. He’s been training with every member on the team. Each of them have something different to teach him and his want to be useful leaves him like a sponge in the ocean. 

If he’s not training, he’s in therapy. He’s hoping, believing, that if he gets himself sorted out then he’ll be able to go out and be the Sentry. It’s been pretty helpful for normal things too though, aiding him in not feeling like everyone is going to up and abandon him one day. Really giving him a sense of purpose, you’ve been doing that too though.

If he’s not doing either of those things, he’s working on his cooking skills. The two of you had gone on a date last month where you learned to make pasta from scratch. You were overjoyed, even if it looked and tasted a little wonky. He wanted to see what you’d look like when he made it perfectly, like a real chef.

The team wasn’t too upset. Maybe too much pasta for their liking, but Bob changed the sauce and protein every time so it didn’t get exhausting to eat.

Now that he has some time to think about it, he hasn’t seen you at all this week.

He wasn’t too worried though. You had exams coming up, you had reminded him of it last week. When you had exams you tended to shrink into your own personal bubble, not wanting a distraction to prevent you from getting the best grade possible. Maybe he’d stop by and bring you a dessert, something to reward you for all your hard work.

“Where are you going Bob?” Yelena asks, not even looking over the back of the couch she’s lounging on.

“To visit Y/n.” He’s facing her even though she’s not looking at him. Something’s been up with the team this week and he can’t seem to get it out of anyone, “I’m gonna stop at the bakery by her place, get her a slice of the cake that she likes.”

“Oh - That’s sweet.” Bob’s nodding along, Yelena turns before she finishes, “But no can do.”

“No… can do?” 

“Yes. Right. No can do.”

“Why not?” You’re his girlfriend, there’s no reason that he shouldn’t be able to go see you when he wants. You haven’t even explicitly said you didn’t want to see him. Unless you told Yelena to keep him away?

“I just do not think it would be good to distract her from her studies.” Yelena’s jutting her lips out a little as she nods along to herself, like it’s the best thing she’s ever said.

“I won’t be there long. She shouldn’t be studying this late anyway.” Then Bob’s pressing the down button for the elevator.

Yelena can’t stop him without raising uncertainty in Bob, she’s backed into a corner. Either let him go and let him see the empty apartment where you should be. Or tell him that when Ava went by earlier this week she was greeted with an empty apartment, spoiled food on the counter, and a note left behind demanding that some criminal be released from prison.

Either way the risk of the void being unleashed was imminent, the only difference was the location; unleashed to the public or unleashed in the tower. Neither choice was good, the team still incapable of fully subduing the void in a normal sense. But they were the Avengers, they needed to take these hits.

So Yelena stops him. Drags him to the dining table and tells him to stay. Then she’s rounding up the rest of the team so they can all break the news to him together.

Since she stopped him, it’s her responsibility to break the ice, “Y/n went missing a few days ago.” 

“I-I don’t understand.” A skeptical look overtakes Bob’s eyes, “What do you mean went missing?”

“I went by to watch that Mormon wives show with her a few days ago and she was gone.”

“So she was out. Running errands like a normal person.” Bob moves to get up. This is ridiculous, no need to stress him out.

“No. There were groceries left out on the counter. And - and a note. Saying they took her to make a deal.”

Bob’s eying everyone up. Trying to figure out if this is some sort of prank and if anyone will slip and say that they were just testing him, trying to make sure he could control himself. 

When Walker, of all people, gives him a look of sympathy he knows its not a joke.

“So did you do it?” 

“Do what?”

“The deal. Did you make the deal or not.”

“Not yet. We were trying to keep the asset in prison and get Y/n out but we haven’t got the exact coordinates to her whereabouts yet.”

Ever the congressman. All about diplomacy and doing things the right way. If it was someone he cared about Bob is sure Bucky would have been trying harder. 

“Show me.”

“The file? We can’t Bob. It’s too risky, especially because nothing's official yet.”

He’s lucky that his hands are below the table, fingers starting to get encased in black. His eyes are downcast too, as long as no one looks too deep they wouldn’t be able to see the way they’re flashing gold. 

He’s competent. He’s been doing good. Going to therapy. Training. Setting himself straight. And they, his supposed family, couldn’t even tell him that his own girlfriend went missing? That she was being held for ransom?

“I just want to look. A fresh set of eyes never hurt.” He’s doing his best to keep his voice level. Doing all he can to not allow anyone to know the turmoil he’s truly going through. 

The tension could be cut with a knife. Every member looking at each other, doing their best to communicate telepathically. To figure out how many of them really trusted that Bob wouldn’t go ballistic, that he could just assist like he was trying to make them believe. 

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right Bob.” It’s Yelena. Always trusting in him, always being his number one supporter. “We’re sorry that we doubted you.”

He doesn’t say anything, just shoves his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and follows them down to the briefing room. He goes through all of the information fast, as it’s spread around the digitized walls.

The main thing he cared about was the suspected location, and who took you. There’s no for sure ID on your kidnappers. They knew exactly how to evade the cameras, either that or there was someone helping them become invisible. 

He didn’t mind sending everyone in that facility to the void though. It’s what they deserved.

He plays it off cool. He’s got a ‘level head’ and really did his best to come up with valid input. Everyone seems to truly believe that he just wanted to help by the end of their discussion. 

Bob lets out a yawn. Not too loud - then it’d be obvious he was faking. But loud enough to draw some attention. Then he rubbed his eyes, pressing the pads of his fingers to the inner corners and rubbing outwards. Followed a few minutes later by blinking for a few seconds, then trying to hold his eyes open wide to the point that they couldn’t close.

When he knows that everyone has seen him exhibit signs of being tired at least once, he excuses himself. He’s just ‘much too tired to be any real help’, and they all understand. It must be a lot for him to comprehend, a lot to take in unexpectedly. They let him go with no resistance, and he couldn’t be happier. 

As the last light went out, and everyone had been confirmed to be asleep he would leave. Well to be correct - Void would leave. Bob was working on coming to an understanding with him because of you, so he would do Bob a favor and bring you back.

Any shadows left in his wake, those were at the fault of the Avengers. They should have told him right away, or done their job properly.

—

Your sense of time was distorted. The only light you have is a single lightbulb, far beyond your reach. Guards coming in specified intervals, either to bring you sustenance or to try and interrogate you. 

It was always the same routine - Guard comes in, questions on how you know the Avengers, questions on their weaknesses. There weren’t any questions today though.

A guard you’ve never seen before steps into the cell. “We’ve been nice. You understand that right?”

You nod, smart enough to not provoke him. Even if everyone knows kidnapping someone isn’t considered ‘nice’.

“You’re comrades haven’t been as nice. Seems they need some… Motivation.”

“They’re not my comrades! We’re just friends, and I wouldn’t even call us that! They don’t tell me anything anyway, it’s all confident-” you’re cut off by the back of the man's gloved hand. You can feel the bruise forming on your cheekbone. 

“Keep sayin’ that. Hasn’t gotten you anywhere yet, maybe tomorrow’ll be your special day though.”

A couple more guards filter into your cell. One goes behind you, the other waiting by the door, something underneath his armpit that you can’t identify, “What’s your dominant hand sweetheart?” 

“M-m-my left.” He couldn’t be asking for any good reason, lying seems like your best choice. 

“Bullshit, you always eat with your right.” Then the man from the doorway is closing in on your right side, placing a wooden board beneath your hand and splaying your fingers out.

You start to thrash, trying to jerk your hand out of his grasp before your biceps are grabbed by the guard behind you. “What are you doing?”

“Told you. Your friends need motivation.” He flips out a switchblade, “Usually an appendage is enough. Won’t take nothing too important.. Yet at least.”

“No, no, no, no. Let me talk to them. Please.” You’re still thrashing, hoping that by some act of god or any higher being, you get enough strength to free yourself, “I-If I could talk to them I’m sure they’d get you whatever you’re asking for.” 

His tongue clicks, head tilting side to side as if he’s in thought. There’s hope! He’ll bring you a phone, you’ll talk to Yelena, or Bucky, or even Bob, and they’ll get you out of here.

“Nah.” 

What does he mean ‘nah’. He’s really going to cut your finger off? For what? Because you don’t know the Avengers personally enough for him. Come on, you work in a bookshop for Christ's sake.

He’s lining up the cut when everything goes dark. You can still feel the other two grips on you, so it must be some electricity issue, but the grips went a little slack when the lights turned off. 

You throw your head back, connecting with something behind you - probably a nose from the crunch you heard. Then you’re taking your left hand, shoving it in the direction you think the head of the man holding your right arm down would be. Connecting with his face you look for his eyes, pushing inwards as much as possible when you locate them.

You’re stumbling through the room, trying to stay as silent as possible. The entire compound erupted in chaos when the lights went off. People trying to figure out what happened, who’s to fault, how to get the lights back on. 

The noise allows you to creep out of your cell. Pressing your back against the wall you try to move in only one direction, hoping it will lead you to an exit.

On your way around a corner you hit something. It’s solid, so you don’t move. Praying it’s a file cabinet, just a weird divot in the wall, even a fridge. But then it inhales, and you move with its chest.

When you look up to assess the damage you’ve just done, you’re met with two pinpoint white eyes. You’d think you were hallucinating them if they didn’t seem to track over your face, like they were assessing you.

“Stay here.” It’s a command, not a statement. His voice is deep, sort of gravely or raspy. His arms grasp your biceps, nothing like the last person who held you like this. It’s soft, gentle, like you mean something. He’s maneuvering you however he pleases, pushing you into a sitting position in the corner.

Then you hear footsteps, fading away in the direction that you came. 

The noise progressively gets quieter and quieter. Surprisingly, there’s no gunshots, no grunts or groans, not even thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Eventually, there’s complete silence, not for long though, soon there’s footsteps heading in your direction.

You keep your head down. You hope it’s whoever put you here, whoever told you to stay, but there’s no guarantee. Better to be safe than sorry.

There’s a hand lightly brushing your shoulder, “You hurt?”

A small sigh leaves your mouth, recognizing the voice as the same one from before. Hearing it again brings an odd sense of familiarity to you. “N-No.”

“Good. I’m going to pick you up.”

Before you could deny, informing the man that you were perfectly capable of walking yourself, you’re in his arms. It’s dark outside, not like anything you’ve seen in the city. No lamp posts, no buildings, nothing supplemental to aid the stars in lighting the sky.

You can see more than in the building though. The fingers that are gripping the back of your knee and your bicep are black. More black than humanly natural, like a tar. Maybe it was just spandex gloves over your saviors suit?

You look to the left and quickly realize you’re mistaken. The entirety of this man is black. Like he was drenched in it, no part of him free from it. His pupils are white, the only indication that you have that he’s got thoughts going on in his head. 

He takes off, bursting into the sky like a rocket. You assume this is how he got here, but you would have thought he would be more considerate considering you have minimal clothing on. 

You wouldn’t complain though. While the Avengers, your friends, had left you high and dry this man came and saved you. You’d forever be grateful. 

There’s plenty of time to stare at this man during your flight. Quickly, you’re able to identify him. Or at least you assume you can. He has all the same features as your boyfriend.

Same cheekbones, same nose, same jaw, same hair. Did Bob have a twin that he was hiding from you? 

Oh.

Wait.

Was this the void? The one who sent you to that shame room all those months ago? The reason you avoided Bob in the first place?

If he senses your turmoil, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t talk at all actually. You’d think it bothered him to save you, but his fingers are digging into you. Not enough to be painful or bruise, but enough to make sure that he never lost focus, never risked you being dropped.

You’re flown back to the Watchtower, directly into Bob's room. You’re placed gently on the bed, sitting on the edge. The void gives you a once over one last time before the darkness is receding. It flows down Bob’s body, as if there’s a drain on the floor and it’s all flowing downwards to it. 

After a couple of seconds Bob’s eyes shoot up. Surprise overtakes his features, “Y/n?”

“Hi Bob.”

“Oh my God. What happened to you?” His fingers are ghosting over the bruise on your cheekbone, then they’re making their way over to the scabbing on your temple.

“Uh - A lot. Yeah, a lot.”

“Let’s get you to the med room. You gotta get patched up.”

You shake your head, moving a bit in his firm grasp, “I just want to shower and sleep. If that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah of course that’s alright. We’ll get you patched up in the morning.”

Bob wanted to know what happened, everything that happened. Wanted to know how you got here, who took you, what really happened in your apartment. But if you wanted to shower and cuddle up in his grasp for the rest of the night, he wouldn’t deny you.

When he woke up before you, heading out to get you a cup of coffee and some waffles, the rest of the team cornered him. Asking him how he was feeling, that’s when he remembered that he essentially faked exhaustion to leave the briefing room.

They informed him that an underground facility was found this morning, some unknown source tipping off local authorities. Inside they found tons of information on a terrorist group, no one to guard it however. Only shadows plastered to the ground, unable to be smudged or wiped up. 

Bob raises the mug he’s carrying in mock toast on his way back down the hall to his room, “Not sure how that happened, I do wanna get back to my room before Y/n wakes up though.” 

You could answer their questions later. Figure out some therapy probably too. Right now though Bob wanted you to rest. He was sure that you weren’t able to for a long while, so he’d make sure you stayed undisturbed until you wanted to wake. 

Even though the Void has always been a burden on him, making his life hard, miserable even. Bob couldn’t help but believe it was growing, changing into a better force. The one who could do the hard things when he couldn’t. The one who was able to dish out the proper judgement. A true blessing in disguise.

Likes/comments/reblogs mean so much!!

[hanginginthevoid]

'Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back' pt.2 posting tmr!!

[hanginginthevoid]

The cut that always bleeds

pairing: joaquin torres x reader

a/n: i love danny ramierz.. i also love angst.. i put them both in my mixing pot and now there’s this fic. readers powers aren’t discussed too much, but they’re the same concept as from my ‘Privilege of Flight’ fic!! I wrote 80% of this listening to 'Do i wanna know' Hozier edition - be warned!

summary: Joaquin was your sunshine boy, you were his starlit girl. he would do anything for you, and even though you were stronger than him, you’d gladly accept his help. when your mission is compromised, leaving you with amnesia he couldn’t help but wish he was there.

warnings: angst/no comfort, amnesia, few bad words, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 4.2k

—

There’s a weight on your chest.

It’s preventing you from rolling over, and the effort you’ve exerted has woken you up. When your eyes crack open, you see a familiar dark head of curly hair.

Joaquin must have gotten in late last night after you’ve already turned in. It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve woken up with him like this.

One of your hands reaches up to wipe the crusties in the corners of your eyes, a small yawn escaping your mouth. The other hand goes to Joaquin’s head, raking your nails all over his scalp, sometimes venturing down his neck to his shoulders, then up again.

Even with your movement, it takes Joaquin a while to get up. When he does though, he’s kissing up the column of your neck.

Not trying to rile you up, or in a sexual way. Just because he wants to connect, and love on you a bit before you have to let the rest of the world in.

“Morning ‘quin,” Your voice is soft, yet still a bit raspy from sleep. Your hand goes to rest on his neck, thumb stroking over his jaw when he looks up at you. 

He’s maneuvered onto his forearms to hover over you now, “G’mornin baby,” then he’s on you. Kissing you like a man starved. 

If it was anyone else you’d be fussing about morning breath, and to give you a few minutes to get yourself together. But this is Joaquin.

He’s seen you at your best, at your worst, and in your every day. He’s the man who takes care of you when you're sick, and who changes the dressings on your wounds when you can't reach them. You can let him have his fill of affection.

—

You’re flipping pancakes when Joaquin joins you in the kitchen. He starts making a coffee. 

“How was the mission?” 

He’s grabbing the sugar and cream when he responds, “Shitty. Well. Somewhat shitty. Op knew Sam was coming, so I had to drop in to save the day.”

“‘Course you did. Sam’s knight in shining armor.” You’re sliding a plate of pre-buttered pancakes across the counter towards him. 

He starts pouring syrup on the pancakes, “Yeah. May or may not have gotten my ass kicked though.” He pops another K-cup into the machine. A few seconds later he’s behind you, a hand on your waist, the other handing you a coffee mug.

He always makes your coffee first. Always. No matter how long of a day he’s had, how tired he is, or how much longer he’s been awake.

You take some time to look at him. On the surface, it doesn’t look like he got his ass kicked. The only visual sign is a cut on his jaw, already scabbed over. But you can see the way he winces when he reaches too far, how he hobbles a little bit when he walks. 

A hot bath and a massage would do him good. 

He wouldn’t get to it anytime soon though. The two of you have approximately 18 hours together before you have to leave for your next mission and Joaquin would not waste it by being in the bath.

The two of you are attached at the hip all day. You catch up on shows, do some skincare, cuddle (a lot). You’re basically a koala on Joaquin’s back as he cooks dinner. He even helps you pack your bag for the mission.

You fall asleep with your head on his chest. Legs entangled to maximize connection. When you get up at the crack of dawn, Joaquin is right there with you.

A part of you thinks he’s trying to lure you to stay home, to stay with him. He’s shirtless, sweats hanging low on his hips, and he’s kissing you all over. Your cheeks, forehead, behind your ear, down your neck, on your shoulder. 

“Gonna miss you.. Not going on another mission for a while after you get back, yeah?” He’s holding your head in his hands now, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones.

You nod, as best as you can in his hold, “Yeah, you need some time off ‘Quin. We both do.”

Then he’s kissing you one last time. His lips soft and plush, teeth nipping at your bottom lip playfully. Right after he’s doing a complete 180, opening your car door and buckling you in so that you can ‘get done faster’ and come back home to him as soon as possible.

—

The mission went south. Fast.

It was supposed to be an easy in and out; grab some information that would crumble a terrorist organization, and dip before anyone would know you were there.

Unfortunately, they manufactured some fake super soldier serum. It wouldn't have been a problem if you knew about it. But you didn't and you go to take a punch from a seemingly normal guy, next thing you know you're through the cement wall that was behind you.

Thankfully you have a bit of invulnerability, so it didn’t hurt as much as it could have. That doesn't mean that you weren't still stunned from the audacity of the punch.

The shock left you vulnerable to an assault of punches and kicks thrown your way from the small group of super soldiers. They're aiming for your head, knowing one good punch could separate your head clean off your shoulders.

Your training puts you on auto-drive as your ducking, dodging, and redirecting attacks. If you could make it to the makeshift control room, you could get out a message to Sam and Joaquin.

A resolve forms in your chest, flowing through your veins, powering every move that you make. The first punch you throw lays one of the wanna be super-soldiers out. Seeing one of their own on the ground sends the others into overdrive though.

A headslam to the wall, a kick to the back of your knee, right hook to the jaw, too many jabs to your ribs to count. At one point you almost lose consciousness from a headlock, the black fading into your vision just as you’re able to repel the woman holding you back. 

Even though you’re battered and bruised, you managed to make it to the computer room. You’ve sealed yourself in just to be safe, before sending off a S.O.S to your ‘team’. Then, even though you know you shouldn’t, you take a seat laying your head back on the wall so that you can just rest your eyes for a bit. 

—

When Joaquin saw the alert come across his screen he wasn’t worried. Well, he was worried, but he had more than enough faith in you to make it out fine. A little surprise never killed anyone. 

His optimism didn’t fade after Sam and him landed. It didn’t fade when walking through the hallways littered with unconscious bodies. It only faded after they blew open the door you had previously sealed and his eyes finally laid on you.

You looked…rough.

There was dried blood that trickled from your temple, cheek, and lip. It looked like blood soaked through some spots in your suit, when Joaquin fell to his knees next to you, he confirmed that it was blood.

He’s nervous; more than he’d ever like to vocally admit. His training kicks in shortly, guiding his hand to your pulse point. As he’s checking he feels someone lay a hand on his shoulder, ready to comfort him if the worst has happened.

But it hasn’t. Today was not the day that you would be ripped from his grasp. He’d get you to a hospital, you’d recover, and then he would take you home. He’d take all the time off in the world to make sure that he got to appreciate you in the way you deserved. 

You couldn’t retire yet, both too young in your careers, just barely making the Avengers. He would marry you though, even with the stress that comes with the job. 

It would be a small wedding. Both sets of parents, your mentors, maybe Isaiah and his wife. You’d be beautiful, basking in the peace that you’ve always searched for. Joaquin would be the one to give it to you, always. 

—

The doctors tell him that you might have some brain damage. Everything seems to be functioning fine on the MRI’s and CT scans, but they couldn’t tell him for sure until you woke up.

Too many hits to your head, apparently you had a shortage of oxygen for some time too. None of that matters though, he would help you through it.

Sam’s taken him off duty. And while Joaquin knew it was for the best, he still felt an ache in his chest. Knowing he could be out in the field aiding people who needed it. His head wouldn’t be in it though, too busy following his heart that would be stuck in the four walls of your hospital room.

His mother is staying at your house, doing her best to make sure that Joaquin's nutrition doesn’t slip. She knows that he loves her too much to deny her cooking, even if he states he doesn’t have an appetite. She’s also making sure that he stops at home and gets a good night's rest, or at least a decent nap. Reminding him that he can’t properly greet you if he’s got a kink in his neck, or his shoulder’s aching from sleeping hunched over your bed. 

When you do wake up, it looks like it puts years on Joaquin’s life. The bags under his eyes seem to disappear. The sparkle in his eyes came back. More air even seems to go into his lungs.

It’s late, his hand holding yours, thumb stroking over your knuckles. His other hand is typing on his laptop; just because he’s benched doesn’t mean he can’t help in some other way. 

Most people assume that when people wake up from being unconscious, it’s with a start. They shoot up from wherever they’re lying and, usually, they’re frantic. That’s not the case though.

Joaquin notices the subtle change in your breathing. He’s acutely aware of everything you do, maybe a little bit more that you were so close to being taken away from him. After a minute or two of your breathing not going back to normal, he looks up.

His face goes blank. Only for a few seconds, that’s how long his brain needed to register that you were staring back at him. Your eyes the same color they’d always been, a hint of curiosity behind them. You were probably wondering why he looked so drained.

He’s smiling at you, something about how proud of you he is, for waking up, for coming back to him. Fumbling, he grasps the call bell that’s attached to the side of your bed, hitting the red ‘alert’ button. He could have gotten the doctor himself, but he didn’t want to spend any time away from you, not yet.

You’re quiet, but he brushes it off. You’re probably in pain, all of your injuries not fully healed. Probably hungry and thirsty too, the IV they’ve been feeding you off of couldn’t be that filling. 

When the doctors and nurses get to the room, Joaquin is almost shoved out of the way. He doesn’t mind, you need all the attention anyway. He gets a little offended, and suspicious, when they ask him to leave the room.

It’s nothing though, has to be nothing. So he “leaves”, really just taking a post right across the hall from the door. He calls his mom and your parents, letting them know you were awake and hopefully you could come home soon, then he calls Sam, telling him the same.

After a few minutes, your doctor comes out. Instead of letting him re-enter, he guides Joaquin down the hall a bit. That’s when he breaks the news that you’ve got amnesia, that you have no idea who Joaquin is. 

The rational, logical, thing to do would be to ask questions. Where can the two of you go from here? How could he help you? Are there any medications that could help?

Instead, Joaquin ducks around the doctor and is opening your door before he can stop himself 

“Amor, I get it. We laugh, we joke, but this isn’t the time. Isn’t the type either.” He’s looking at you hopeful.

When you don’t respond, looking at him like you feel bad for him, like you pity him, he starts to tear up. The doctor must not be lying, you must not have sent him to relay this joke to Joaquin. 

His person. His love. His future wife. His everything, has no idea who he is. And it seems like she doesn’t care to know either.

The tears start to fall just before he can get maneuvered out of your doorway.

—

Your eyes blink open. Adjusting to the unfamiliar scenery, trying to find what’s brushing against your hand. When they fall on a man, a crease forms in your brow.

The man has black curly hair, and deep brown eyes. You’ve never seen him before. 

He’s typing, a laptop positioned atop your hospital bed. While you can’t see the screen it’s easy to assume that whatever he’s working on is important. You must be important to him too since he’s still yet to let you go. 

The man looks at you. Not like how anyone who cared about you would, just staring straight into your soul. Like he’s trying to figure out every thought and feeling you’ve ever had. Then he’s smiling, a few tears collected in the corners of his eyes.

He’s telling you how much of a trooper you are, how you gave him the scare of a lifetime, to never do that to him again. You don’t know what he’s talking about, it’s easy to assume it has something to do with the throb in your head and the ache in your side.

When your doctor and nurses come in they usher the man out, it takes him a while to leave but he does. Then they start asking you questions.

‘What day is it?’

‘Who’s the President?’

‘What’s the last thing you remember?’

They seem satisfied enough with your answers, nothing jarring them. Even if it does, they do a real good job of hiding it. 

After they check your eyes, feel around your skull, and do some range of motion tests with you, it feels like a proper time to ask who that man was. 

“Who was he? That-that guy who was sitting here?” The room seems to freeze over after the words leave your mouth. 

The nurse who was fiddling with your IV lets her hand go still, the doctor sitting next to you assesses the look on your face then starts scribbling something on his clipboard.

“You don’t remember him?” 

It’s asked in a way that he seems important. Someone you should remember. He’s not your brother, not a cousin, not one of your old friends.

“No… Should I?” You’re confused now. Head pounding more and more as you think about how you should know this man. If you’re supposed to know him and you don't, it must mean that your memories are gone. How much did you forget? How much time is unaccounted for?

“It’s alright that you don’t remember him.” The doctor puts a hand on your shoulder, bringing you out of your head, “You banged your head around a bit, it's completely normal to have a bit of brain-fog when you first wake up.”

It makes you feel better. Not much, but enough to keep you from spiralling. When the nurse who went to fetch you some water returns, the doctor excuses himself. 

You’re trying to pry information out of the nurses when the man reappears. He’s at the door calling you ‘Amor’, Love, saying it like it's something he says to you everyday. 

This man was your boyfriend? You can feel for him if so, it must suck to be in his position. The awkwardness of it takes over you before anything else, leading your eyes away from him and to the clock hanging on the wall. Before you know it, he’s getting pulled away, back down the hallway you’d assume.

—

A couple of days later you’re approved for discharge. No heavy lifting, don’t do anything that would irritate your ribs. Simple instructions.

You would have been perfectly content with it, however you’re going home with your ‘boyfriend’ and his mom. Something about how ‘Being in familiar locations may help trigger your memory.’

While you have gotten to know the guy in the past few days, nothing he says sticks. He talks about your first date, some coffee shop with the perfect view of a lake. 

Apparently they had some top tier pastries that you love. Whenever he’d go on his morning runs, he’d make his way over there and pick you up something different, something special, then you’d complain about him trying to plump you up. It sounded nice; you could say definitively that it was nice, if you could remember it.

He tells you about your powers. How they clicked one day during training with the Air Force. One second you were being thrown around, the next the cadet training with you broke her hand. 

He gets a glazed over look when he talks about the two of you flying together. It’s a newer memory, he reminds you, he just became falcon a few months ago. You helped him when Sam wasn’t available. Not by actually helping him get into the air, but catching him if he fell, making sure he didn’t end up a meat pancake on the sidewalk.

Every time that the man, Joaquin, you've got to start calling him Joaquin, enlightens you on another memory and you don’t remember it, you can see his face fall. It's subtle, the shine in his eyes goes away, the corners of his lips no longer tilted upwards. 

It hurts. Not with your chest aching like it always does when you see someone you love suffering. But the hurt is still there, swimming around in your head because you know you should feel bad, still never landing anywhere because you can’t remember even a hint of the memories Joaquin is bestowing upon you. 

He’s ever the gentleman when taking you home, carrying your belongings and hovering a hand above your lower back in case you stumble. He plays calm, comforting music from a spotify playlist on his phone in the car back. Even opens your car door for you when you get ‘home’, how he got around the car so fast you weren’t sure.

His mom is standing in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. “Welcome home mija.” You give her a polite smile, one that she can tell is just to please her. 

Joaquin leads you to your room, your shared room. “I figured you could stay here, I’ll sleep in the guest room, or on the couch - something I’ll figure out something.” 

“Actually. I was thinking, I should stay in the guest room?” Your right hand is rubbing over your left elbow, trying not to fidget too noticeably, “Y’know? Cause you’re the one that has to live with all the memories. I’d hate to misplace you for nothing.” 

You said the last part quietly. Never able to stop yourself before you say something that you shouldn’t. Even though you mean it, you hope Joaquin didn’t hear.

He does, of course he does. But he’s good at hiding it, a mumbled “Yeah, makes sense” then he’s got your bags again and leads you to the guest room. 

Nobody forces you out of your room after that. Encouraging you to nap or even just rest by laying down, and they’ll take care of everything else. Joaquin's mother comes up with a plate for dinner. She doesn’t push or pry when you take it from her, just lets you know that she’ll be back in an hour or so to collect the dish.

You’re a big girl, you can stick through the awkwardness that's settled in the house. And you promised your parents you’d give remembering your best shot before you went home, so tomorrow you’ll ask Joaquin to take you out, somewhere that’ll trigger a memory.

—

It’s been three, very long weeks. 

Every other day either someone would come over, or Joaquin and you would go out to an important location for your relationship. 

Sam, Captain America, visited and told you about all the times Joaquin and you would crash at his sister's place. Apparently his nephews were starting to prefer the two of you over their own uncle. 

Bucky, Congressman Barnes, visited and told you how much Joaquin ran his ear off during your time taking down the flag smashers. Always something about you, what he thought you’d like, if you were safe, if he should patch you up or that would be too much. Supposedly Joaquin assumed since Barnes was so old, he could give proper courting advice.

Joaquin’s taken you to so many different restaurants, cafes, diners, bookstores, parks, and to so many different activities. All of them pertaining to a memory that he’s told you before, ones that you’ve ingrained into your memory. The only problem is that you’re remembering him telling you the story, not your actual perspective. 

The only place he hasn’t taken you is the coffee shop where your first date took place. You were going to ask him about it, but you overheard him telling his mom that he just couldn't take you there. The thought of bringing you and having it not click would be too much to bear.

It's old, tiring.

You’ve given it the old college try. Done all you could do. It’s time to accept defeat. 

You feel bad for Joaquin. After getting to know him, knowing how much of a kind, caring, optimistic person he is, you can feel emotions swirling in your gut. It’s going to crush him, but he would get over it. That you’re sure of.

You’ve already called your parents, discussed that you want to go home. That you tried your best, and you just can’t remember anything pertaining to Joaquin. How it's unfair to him to keep giving him hope that you would remember. 

Although they’re disappointed, it’s not in you. You’re their daughter and they’d love you no matter what, so they book a flight. You’re going home, to a place you actually do remember. You could work on your powers there, relearn some skills, possibly even start using your powers for good again but on a more local scale. 

It’s early when you break the news to Joaquin. He’s on the front steps, lacing up his sneakers. His movements stutter when the door creaks, but he quickly regains his composure, smiling up at you.“What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“I-I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Alright, fire away.” He’s standing now, arms crossed, only a small upward tilt to his lips instead of a smile. 

“I’m going home.” You’re looking at his sneakers. The weight of your revelation too much to bear.

“You are home?” Joaquin’s head tilts to the left, like a dog that’s gotten a command they don’t know.

“No, I’m not. Not this version of me anyway.” Your eyes flicker to his face for a moment, his jaw is ticked, eyes hard, “It’s not you! I just… It feels like I’m not regaining any memories, and I hate to be a bother so I’m just going to go home. To my parents.”

“You’re not a bother.”

“I kind of am-”

His hand is on your chin, lifting your head so you’d be forced to make eye contact, “You will never be a bother.”

A weight that you can’t see has settled in Joaquin’s chest. He can’t force you to stay here, but he’s not sure how he’ll live with himself if you go. If you were going to come back that's one thing, but he’s certain that once you go home you’d never call him, never text, probably remove him on instagram too.

He’s looking forward, no longer at you as he starts up the steps, “I’ll get you a ticket.”

“I already have one.” You’ve grabbed his forearm, halting him from continuing back into the house. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. I can’t live with myself, torturing you because it's been in vain.” 

“It’s not torture. Do you need help packing?”

Your hand has slipped down his arm to his hand, thumb running across his knuckles just like his once did, “No, I’ve got everything in order. My uber should be here soon actually.”

He’s tearing up as he speaks, reality setting in,  “Just.. Don’t get green skin okay? I’ll always be here if you need something, anything.”

You’re gone within the hour. Only things that you didn’t have any recollection of left behind. A toy Joaquin won for you at a carnival, a vase the two of you made during a pottery class, the necklace he got for you custom made of your favorite constellation. 

Joaquin wont get rid of it though. Even if you didn’t regain your memories, didn’t fall for him with this new version of yourself. Every remnant of you would be cherished, treasured like it was you. 

He would keep tabs on you. Not trying to stalk, but he has to ensure you are safe. He wouldn’t ever show up though, wouldn’t ever expose himself. You were his everything, nothing would change that. Even if he was nothing to you.

Likes/comments/reblogs make me blush!!

[hanginginthevoid]

This means sm to me you dont even know :')

Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

summary: almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.

a/n: HI!!! I love the idea of character x powerless!reader almost as much as i love the idea of reader who can take care of themselves. SLOWBURN!!!!! I also wrote like 10 pages straight of this before i slowed down and remember how much i HATE writing endings… 

warnings: reader gets screamed at, probably ooc bob, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 8.2k

---

Your life would be considered mundane. You spend most of your time studying, if you weren’t studying you were at work. But to be honest, you were studying at work too. Sure you still go out with your friends, but you’re not paying thousands upon thousands of dollars to not get this degree. 

The bookshop that you work at is cute. The brick walls painted sage green, the bookshelves that lined the walls, along with the display tables, were a nice dark mahogany. Small bouquets of different flowers were painted around the shop, like easter eggs for customers to spot.

If the customers actually look at the design choices, you’d never know. Most of the customers that you saw were business or finance bro’s and ladies trying to assert themselves in their corporate jobs. 

They’d pick up some ‘life-changing’ book, and you’d never see them again. The first floor of the shop was entirely dedicated to non-fiction because of this. Gotta make it easily accessible for the clients.

You prefer fiction, and honestly, it’s a better vibe having to go upstairs to find some whimsy than just staying at the same level. Every once in a while you’ll see someone venturing up there, maybe just to take a few pictures, maybe to actually buy something. Not nearly as often as you’d like though.

Most of the time you keep your head down, busy jotting down notes or highlighting your textbook. You greet customers when they come in, help them find the book they’re looking for if need be, and give them a polite smile while asking about their day as you check them out. But their faces blur together, and none of their responses stick with you for more than a few minutes.

Today was different though.

Today two men walked into the shop. One with shaggy brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a wobbly smile like he’s worried about something, and the other with blonde hair, a beard, and eyes so icy blue you could mistake them for gray. 

The one with brown hair takes to the shelves after returning your greeting. He scans them for a little bit, checking around the displays as well before coming up to you at the checkout counter.

“Hi.. again.” You look up, but he’s avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you, “Do you guys have any books not based not on real stuff?”

You nod along with him, “Yeah, of course. All of our upstairs section is for fiction books.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” And he’s moving away, looking like he’s sizing up the stairs ahead of him.

You feel a little bad for the guy - the guy he’s with is just standing at the door, and he seems unsure about everything. 

Your better judgement fails, putting a tab in your textbook so you don’t lose your place, “Are you looking for anything specific?” 

“Ummm.. Not really? Just - anything fictional.” He’s starting up the stairs before he remembers something and continues his response, “And a series. Something with a lot of books.”

You smile at him, a general customer service smile but it’s softened by the want to be kind to this man, “The Maze Runner is pretty good. Five books in the series.”

With a final nod, he’s up the stairs and it’s just you and the blonde man. You think about asking if you could help him with anything, but any normal person would have already looked around if they wanted to.

They both look familiar. Not excessively, but similar to someone who you would see walking around campus but never had classes with. Like the friend of one of your friends, who only shows up once in a blue moon. 

You can’t place them before the brown haired man comes back with a book. 

He hands, not places down, hands, you a book. Upon glancing at it, you see he picked your recommendation. 

“I think you’ll like it, I was really into it when I read it for the first time.” You scan the book, placing it with the front cover down onto the simple brown packing paper you picked out this morning.

“I think so too. You would be the expert after all,” He huffs out a laugh at the end of his sentence, handing you a credit card to make his payment. 

You smile along with him, sealing the book with a ‘Thank you!’ sticker. After the card clears you hand it back to him, along with the book, and send him off with the hope that he enjoys the book.

As he turns around, he motions to his blonde counterpart, and they both head out the door. Before it shuts though, the man turns around one more time leaving you with a ‘Have a good day!’ and a warm feeling in your chest because there really are still good, kind people out there.

Unlike the normal clientele that you see, you think about this man for the rest of your shift. 

He was attractive, so you’d almost doubt that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Or maybe even a boyfriend, but there’s no way that was the blonde man. He seemed more like a bodyguard…?

He was also kind. He might not have been confident, but that didn’t take away from his other redeeming qualities. 

You think mostly about the fact that he took your recommendation. He didn’t ask for one, so it’s truly surprising that he took what you said into consideration. Paired with the fact that he spent a decent amount of time up there, seemingly pondering his options, just to come back with your recommendation still.

It’s a shame that you’ll probably never see him again. People usually don’t have the time to keep stopping by the same bookshop in this city. Assuming he’s the same as everyone else, he’ll just order the next one online and call it a day.

—

You’re almost immediately proven wrong. Just three days later, the same shaggy haired, blue eyed man walks back into the bookshop.

This time, he’s accompanied by a woman. They greet you, ask how your day is going, then venture upstairs.

You eye them more than you’d like to admit. Trying to figure out these two, the woman is clearly more invested in him than his blonde companion had been.

She's got black hair, green eyes, and an accent. Exotic. 

She stands with him as he browses, inputting her opinion, giving suggestions. Ventures off by herself for a minute before coming back with a book, you assume to recommend it.

Maybe this is the girlfriend. The one who gets to go home and call him her own. By your guesstimate, they’ve only been dating for a little while. Too many boundaries between them to be a really established, committed relationship.

Eventually, you go back to your textbook. Reducing its value every time you annotate, a highlight to show importance, and a note to explain why exactly it's important.

As you're figuring out how you want to color code this set of flashcards, someone gently clears their throat in front of you.

You look up to see the ocean eyed man. He’s smiling at you, soft like he doesn’t want to scare you off. 

“Hey, find everything alright?” You’re standing now, resting your folded arms across the counter.

He nods as he responds, “Yeah, yeah everything was findable.” 

His girlfriend wasn’t beside him anymore, instead she's perusing around the displays about ways to drastically improve your life.

When he hands you the book, you see it’s ‘The Scorch Trials’, the second book in the series you recommended. Guess they spent all that time up there just to flirt.

You scan it, placing it face down on the same brown packing paper as the last book, “Am I safe to assume that you enjoyed the first one?”

“Y-yeah, I didn’t think Alby would die like that. Y’know? He felt like the glue and then boom! He was gone.” 

It’s sweet. He’s not afraid to show his joy from the story. Accentuation his ‘boom’ with his hands, and, holding eye contact. 

“Me either. My favorite is Newt though, so I’m just happy he made it out of the maze.” You’ve sealed the book with a ‘Have a great day!’ sticker, and then you’re handing it back.

“I don’t have a favorite yet, but I’ll keep Newt in mind! He seems like a good guy.” And then his girlfriend is back at his side, ushering him out the door. He yells a ‘Have a good rest of your day!’ over his shoulder, and then they’re disappearing into the busy New York sidewalk.

You wonder if he’ll finish the second one as fast as the first one. Though, you hoped not. 

You wouldn’t be working that day and even if he had a girlfriend he was still a breath of fresh air that you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to inhale. 

Maybe you’d go find a dandelion to wish on after your shift. But then again, he’s just a man. You don’t even know his name for God’s sake. 

Yeah, no dandelion for you.

—

Sunday is the universal reset day. Least you’d think so. You bring your laundry down to your apartment building's laundry room, let it start to do its thing in the washer then head out. 

First grabbing a coffee at the cute coffee shop a couple of blocks down. You swear they make the best macchiatos. 

Then you’re on your way to the grocery store. Getting the most important things first; Greens and proteins. Then the things important to your heart like carbs and cheese, ice cream if it’s weather permitting. Then everything else, from snacks to garbage bags, to dryer sheets, to a new mascara, or maybe even some flowers. 

The trick was getting everything you needed, but not too much that it became difficult to haul home. Today was not one of the days that you got the ratio right.

Maybe you bought too many snacks, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of assignments due this week and that permits a hell of a lot of snacking.

Thankfully, you brought a nearly empty backpack with you, so you’re able to stash some groceries in there and not kill your wrists. It doesn’t help much though, by the time you make it to the elevator your fingers are throbbing and turning white from the lack of circulation.

You put away the refrigerated and frozen items before making your way down the stairs. Gotta burn your calories somehow.

After switching your laundry from the washer to the dryer, you head back upstairs. Starting in the living room you put away stray books, highlighters, pens, and papers. Straighten up the couch by fluffing the cushions, and folding the blankets before grabbing any cups or mugs that may have been left out and bringing them to the kitchen.

You go through the dishes fast, most of them being able to fit into the dishwasher. Then it's putting away the rest of the groceries, and wiping down the counters. 

The bathroom and bedroom are tidied up daily so besides changing the sheets, you forgo taking care of them. Instead vacuuming so that you can just put on a movie and fold your clothes before making dinner.

You can barely hear your phone going off from where it rests on your kitchen counter. It gets ignored though, probably just one of your parents checking in, worried because you’ve been swamped with school. You can just text them back before you start folding.

After the vacuum is shut down, and properly stored in your coat closet, you head back downstairs to retrieve your laundry. 

The basket goes between the couch and the coffee table, ensuring you have enough space to section out all your clothes. But you still have to pick a movie. Something you’ve seen before, so you won’t get distracted. Yet still something interesting, so you don’t give up on your laundry halfway through and leave it all around your apartment. 

By the time you remember your phone and the aforementioned text from your parents, you’re about thirty minutes into ‘Madagascar’. The thought of leaving it, and continuing with your progress passes through your mind. And you mull over the idea for a few minutes. But then you remember that not everyone has parents that care about them, and you push yourself off the couch to go get your phone.

When you turn it on while walking back to the couch, you notice that it wasn’t from your parents. Instead you're met with a message from Tasha, your coworker. Maybe the shop ran out of a popular book? Or a customer wanted to return a, clearly, read book again.

Opening the chat, you see that it’s neither of those. 

Tasha: Some guy came in today asking about you

What guy could come in asking about you? Would this be your chance to meet some millionaire who’d pay for your tuition. God you hoped so. At the very least please let him be hot. Well, hot is an overstatement, let him be not horrid to look at.

You’d never know if you didn’t ask though, so you type out a quick reply before sitting back on your couch, digging your hand back into the laundry basket.

Y/n: What guy?

The response is nearly instantaneous.

Tasha: GIRL

Tasha: YOU TOOK

Tasha: SO LONG

Y/n: mb, yk sunday is my reset

Y/n: left my phone on the counter while folding clothes so i didn’t lose my flow

Tasha: does NOT matter

Tasha: he was FINE

Tasha: TALL

Tasha: DARK HAIR

A tall, dark haired man was asking for you? That’s like - half the businessmen in New York. She’d need to be more specific.

Y/n: you gotta gimme sumn else

Y/n: thats like half the people who come in

Tasha: like long dark hair

Tasha: blue eyes

You start typing before you can really think about the implications. 

Y/n: did he get a maze runner book??

Tasha: yeah

Tasha: so who is he

It’s comical how Tasha thinks that he’s interested in you. It’d be nice if he was. You’d definitely accept a date with him if he ever offered. But you’re not a homewrecker. 

Y/n: just a nice dude who doesn’t treat staff like theyre garbage

Y/n: he’s got a girl tho, she came w him last time

It’s getting late, and you’ve fallen behind on your mental schedule. You’ll start dinner while you finish up your conversation, then after you eat you can finish your laundry and head to bed. 

Getting up you take out the ground beef you bought just a few hours ago. Splitting it into two portions you put one half in a ziploc bag and stuff it in your freezer before putting the other half into a pan to brown. As you’re opening a can of crushed tomatoes, your phone dings with a new message.

Tasha: idk 

Tasha: didnt seem like he did when he was describing you

You shake your head as you start adding seasonings to your beef. Also putting a pot of water to boil before wiping your hands to respond.

Y/n: hes just nice

Y/n: dont read into it

Y/n: see u tuesday girly

Then your phone ends up on do not disturb. You’ve got to finish these chores if you want to be able to properly focus on your studies. 

Unfortunately you think about Tasha’s texts until you crawl into bed. She was adamant that he was feeling you in at least one sense of the word. The idea makes your cheeks warm. Not much, since it would just be a delusion, but enough for you to recognize the familiar flush.

Next time you see him, you’ve got to block the messages out of your mind. Otherwise you’d make a fool out of yourself. He had a girlfriend, and you’d respect that.

Plus, he didn’t even know your name! How could he have any sort of feeling for you without knowing your name? You supposed it could be similar to how you’ve got a flutter in your chest when you see him, but that’d be dumb, men don’t think that way.

—

You’re hunched over your laptop, typing up a storm when you hear the bell jingle. It doesn’t stop you from typing, you’ve got a flow going and you wouldn’t stop it for the world. 

When your half-hearted greeting is replied to by a known voice you freeze. It’s brief, so you hope he doesn’t notice, but it still happens. Then you’re back to typing, throwing a ‘let me know if you need anything!’ in his general direction.

Truth be told, you were just typing mumbo-jumbo. Trying to manifest a proper thought that would never come. You wanted to look up. See if he had come by himself today, or if he had brought his girlfriend along. But curiosity killed the cat, and living in the fantasy that he could possibly like you, was far too nice to trade.

You switch from typing on your personal laptop, to typing on the shop’s pc. If you weren’t going to be productive with your essay, you could at least be productive by ordering some much needed stock. 

That’s the only reason you switched. Not because you wanted to take a look around the shop. Not because the flutter in your chest was still happening, minutes after just speaking to him. And most certainly not because you remembered, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You wanted it to be conspicuous. Nonchalant. Just a casual glance around the shop to make sure no one was stealing anything. 

However, a shout made you spring your head up. Staring directly at the man you're infatuated with, and his companion for the day. A tall man, with a graying beard.

He really has no shortage of friends. All different shapes and sizes too.

“Sorry!” He’s waving at you, an embarrassed look overtaking his features. 

Before you can tell him that there’s no need to apologize his friend is speaking, loudly, again “Why do you apologize? We do nothing wrong, nothing.”

“Because! It’s a bookshop, and it was quiet. Silent even! Before you shouted.” He’s whisper shouting, trying to make his point in the quietest way possible. 

Huffing out a laugh, you go back to your essay. Even with nobody else in the shop, this guy still has the manners to not want to mess up the vibe. Maybe he has a twin you could get with.

You barely hear from the two again until they're right up in front of you. Your ears pick up on ‘Alexi’ and ‘over there’, before you’re approached by ocean eyes himself. 

“Hi. Sorry again, about him.” It looks like he’s rocking on his feet a little bit, but you’re not tall enough to be sure. “ He - uh. He’s not the best in social settings.”

“Ah, I see. So. What’re you getting today?” Your hands are out, like a child waiting to accept a present.

He places ‘The Kill Order’ in your hands. “Newt died. You kinda gaslit me into believing he was a safe favorite character.” 

The way he says it is flat. It makes you worry a bit, and he’s looking at you straight faced like he’s really got a bone to pick. “My bad! He really was my favorite. Even though he kicked the bucket. I didn’t think you’d really pay more attention to him if I mentioned it.” 

You hope your apology is taken seriously. Your eyebrows are creased, eyes conveying your sincerness, at least you hope they are. But then he’s laughing. Why is he laughing?

“Sorry, I - I wasn’t serious. I did think he was a safe character to like but I thought it’d be funny to pull your leg a little.” Oh. Thank god he wasn’t really upset.

Then you’re laughing a little bit along with him, “You got me. I’ll give you that.” You scan the book, proceeding along with the same routine as always. This time you’re wrapping it in a deep burgundy packing paper, sticking it with a ‘Come again soon!’ sticker before handing it back. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He raises his eyes to meet yours when you start speaking, “but you read a lot.” 

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. It’s nice to be immersed in a different world sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Well it was nice to see you again…” You trail off, hoping he takes the hint and gives you his name.

“Oh - Bob, I-I’m Bob. What’s your name?” He’s back to avoiding eye contact. But he hasn’t moved away from the counter yet, so he can’t be that uncomfortable.

You give him your name, and he repeats it. Trying it out on his tongue, figuring out the syllables and the way to say them that makes them sound best. Then he’s leaving, well, more like getting dragged out. 

His huge friend has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and he’s walking with a purpose that Bob can’t resist. 

As they start to make their way down the street, Bob spares you a grin and a wave through the window. 

You wonder when he’ll finish that book. When he’ll be back and you’ll get to look into his eyes again. When you’ll get to dream about how soft his hair is.

As long as you’re on shift you couldn’t care less though.

—

This goes on for a few months. Bob comes in, always with a companion, picks out a book from a series you’ve recommended. The two of you crack a couple of jokes, or Bob asks you about your studies. And then he’s gone for a few days. 

Sometimes he doesn’t show up at all. Usually just for a few days, which wouldn’t be bad but it's abnormal for him. Once in a blue moon it's for a or over a week, he never explains, just apologizes.

His companions are always one of 6 people. They fluctuate, sometimes the same person joining him two times in a row, sometimes they rotate like a wheel and you don’t see the same person for a few weeks.

Then they stop coming. Well not entirely. But they stop coming inside. At first they just stand outside the shop, lingering just outside the door. 

Eventually they start to ‘drop’ Bob off. Walk with him till they get to the shop, the two of them exchange a few words, then Bob walks in, and his companion walks off. 

They make sure to pick him up after. It’s always on their time though. Bob will come in, pick out his book, check out, and then talk to you the rest of the time.

It’s all basic conversation, favorite colors, what drew you to get your degree, why you chose NYU over something closer to home, favorite ice cream flavor, what Florida was like. 

It seems silly to assume that he likes you. But it seems even sillier to assume that he doesn’t. No way would he waste all this time just to not care at all. 

He still asks Tasha about you when you’re not there. She thinks you two are a match made in heaven. Well as close to one as she can get without really knowing him. But he’s attractive, attracted to you, you say he's kind, so what’s not to like.

You see Bob and his female blonde companion, Yelena you think her name is, talking outside the shop. You can’t hear them, but you can see Bob wringing his fingers together and Yelena putting her hands on his shoulders, giving him a decent shake. 

Then it’s like something in Bob shifts, and he gains confidence. Looking into her eyes he smiles a bit, not too much, but enough for it to be noticeable. And he's turning around, and opening the door to the shop. 

“Good morning, how’s it going?” He’s smiling, looking directly at you.

You can tell he’s really taking you in. How you did your hair, the sweater that you’re wearing, maybe he even notices the mascara you put on just on the hope that you’d see him today. 

“Good, how’s it going with you?” 

He’s not moving from the counter, still studying you. “It’s good. Hopefully it’ll be better in a minute.” The look on your face, warm, comforting, understanding, interested, encourages him to continue. “I was hoping you’d maybe…” Bob has to take a breath to steady himself, “W-would you get coffee with me sometime?”

It takes you a few seconds to process. Bob wants to get coffee with you? Like as in a date? You’ve been dreaming about this for months. When you’re done thinking it through, the giddiness gets to you.

Beaming at him, “Of course. I would love to get coffee with you Bob.” 

“Really?” His mouth is gaping a little, like he really thought you’d reject him.

“Really. I’m not working on Thursday if that works for you?” You really hope that there aren’t hearts in your eyes. The blush on your cheeks is prominent, you can feel it, and it would be embarrassing if Bob didn’t have a matching one.

“Thursdays gre-perfect. It’s perfect.” 

You’re discussing which cafe to go to before you shoo Bob away to go pick out his book. God forbid Yelena comes back and he still hasn’t checked out.

There’s a pleasant warmth in your chest when he leaves. And you’re light, like every stress has been lifted away. Maybe it’s adrenaline from your crush being reciprocated, or maybe it’s the bloom of puppy love, either way it's welcomed.

—

When Thursday rolls around, you’re more energized than ever. Practically bouncing around your apartment as you get ready. Using the same body wash, and lotion so the scent really sticks.

Putting on makeup, not too much, but enough so that it enhances your face and gives you some extra ‘shine’.

You also make sure to dress comfortable, cute, but comfortable. You’ve only seen Bob outside of his sweaters a handful of times, and you doubt that a coffee shop date would be the spot he decides to bring out all the stops.

Wait. What if he doesn’t see this as a date. Maybe he just wanted to become friends with you outside your job. Wanted to add onto his never ending revolving companions to accompany him around on his errands. 

No. That’s not right. Bob wouldn’t do that, anyone would have to know that would be leading you on and he doesn’t have the hate in him to do that. No way.

When you get there, Bob’s already sitting down at a table. He’s people watching, looking out the window at all the unsuspecting people passing by.

His hair looks like he styled it instead of letting it do it’s own thing, and he's got a comfy crew-neck on. The slopes of his nose and lips and the way that his lashes lightly brush his cheekbones when he blinks. He’s beautiful like this, unfortunate that you have to break up his peace. 

You slide into the chair across from him, “Hey.”

He’s smiling at you, one of the biggest you’ve seen, “How was the walk?”

“Not bad, a little chilly but that’s nothing new.” 

“Well, let me get you a drink to warm up, yeah?”

You give him your order, and then he’s gone. Up at the counter in a flash, and seemingly back in even less time. 

Like a proper gentleman he hands you yours first. His hand was a little too big on the mug, leaving you no choice but to brush your fingers against his as you go to grip it. Believe it or not, it’s the first time you’ve touched. 

Suddenly, the world is being painted black. It’s creeping up all around you, spreading from where you stand, up the walls, to the ceiling. For a split second it’s just you in this neverending black box.

Then you’re in the backseat of your first ever car. “How the hell?” You’re looking around, trying to figure out how you could have possibly gotten here. You were just with Bob, at a cafe, on your first date.

Then you start murmuring. Not you you, but the younger you, the one sitting in the front seat. She’s talking about how tiring it is being perfect, doing everything that everyone ever asks, always being the one that people know they can rely on, or at the very least fall back on to talk shit about others to. And before you can even finish your rant your fathers screaming back at you. How he owns the house, he lives in the house, he bought your car, he provides everything and asks for so little back. 

You feel the tears before you recognize that you're crying. But you hear her sobs. The way her chest shakes with every breath, the way it's painful to inhale. How the hell did you get here, and why can’t you just get out?

The screaming doesn’t stop, it keeps going, getting progressively worse. You’re clearly ungrateful, and you need to remember your place. When you get your own place, then you can have the thoughts and feelings that you’re currently having. Until then suck it up.

You try to leave, opening the door of the car, but you can’t, you have too much respect for your father. 

The adult you is staring. This was the whole reason you left home after all. All the talk about having a place of your own, the arguments over the way you kept your room, or didn’t clean a specific area of the house. 

It ends with the sound of you sobbing still. Worse than before. Your airways are already compromised with the snot blocking it, and the way you’re trying to suppress the sobs is only making it worse. 

And then it’s melting away. In the same way that it started, but in reverse. The scene fades to black, the ceiling gets its color back first. The rest of the scene coming into view, Bob staring at you is the last thing you register. 

“I-i-i’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?” He’s worried, the stutter proving your thoughts. But how does he know something is wrong? You didn’t see anyone else in there with you, just your own personal hell.

“Did.. Did you do that?” You’re trying to piece together this puzzle. No way that you slice or dice it does it look good. 

His eyes are frantic, you think that’s what tipped you off, “I. I did. I didn’t mean to though! I promise it was an accident.” 

Then you’re pushing past him. Not slowing down as he calls after you. When you make it to the sidewalk, you book it.

What the hell?

What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with you?

How did he even do that?

Did he bring you out on a date just to humiliate you?

Maybe that’s what you deserve, his girl friends probably told him to do it. Even if you don’t understand how it worked, it would make sense; embarrass you to the point where you’d never bother him again.

—

You take the next week off of work. Any shift you can, you give to Tasha. The shifts that you do work, because you need money to live, are the afternoons. Just a few hours, essentially in and out.

As long as no one sells you out, Bob would never know and would never come during that time. 

You told Tasha that the date went bad, but that was all you had disclosed. You hoped she’d be kind enough not to meddle.

She did inform you that he came in often, almost everyday, looking for you. He’d asked when you’d be working next, Tasha told him it was illegal for her to tell him.

He’d left notes with Tasha, and she passed them along. Just for you to toss them in the bin. The one at work, so you wouldn’t be tempted to dig through the trash and see what he wrote.

He asked what you liked, if there was a gift card or book he could get you to apologize. Tasha told him to kick rocks. 

She did let you know that he looked awful. His hair was messy, tousled beyond its normal amount; like he spends all day running his hands through it. 

His eyes had bags under them. They were extremely sunken in, and had a purplish hue to them. His eyes themselves were red, sometimes puffy, most times half-lidded, like opening them took too much energy.

He was almost always sniffling. His nose red from irritation. You told her this had to have been allergies, Tasha insisted it was from crying.

And lastly, his hands. Always fidgeting. Picking at his nail beds, wringing around each other, or cracking his knuckles.

Bob looked worn down. His body, mind and soul. But what did Tasha want you to do about it, it’s not your fault.

—

It’s another week later when a blonde walks into the shop. 

You take a glance at the clock on your computer before speaking, “Hey, just wanted to let you know that we close in a half-an-hour. Take your time though.”

“I’m actually here for you.” 

That sends a chill down your spine. This is New York so it wouldn’t be completely unheard of to be taken hostage. But you haven’t done anything and you have essentially no value, so why are they here for you?

For the first time, you really look at the person in front of you. You know her. Not entirely sure from where, but she’s familiar in a way. 

You take the non-threatening approach, donning a soft smile before you speak, “Yeah of course. What can I do for you?” 

She’s staring at you, and you swear she hasn’t blinked once. It’s like she’s staring through your soul. 

“Bob told me that he sent you to a shame room.” 

“What?” Breath catching in your throat. You remember her now, Yelena. Bob’s most frequent companion. Maybe if you can keep your cool, you’ll get off easy.

“On your date. At the place that does the uhhh, latte art?” Yelena’s still holding eye contact. 

You’re really trying not to sweat, “Oh. Yeah, what about it?”

“You’ve been ignoring him since.” 

You can’t deny it. You literally switched shifts just so you wouldn’t have to see him. So you nod, hoping that suffices.

“He didn’t mean to. He can’t control it.”

What is she even talking about, “Sorry? Can’t control what?” 

“The shame room. Where you went when he touched you?” You hum a bit in response before she continues, “He can’t control that. He’s been good for months, so he thought he could get through a date, with you, safely.”

You don’t understand though. Why can’t he control that? Why can he do that, period. It’s not normal but Bob’s definitely not a superhero that you’ve seen on your TV before.

“Why.. Why can he do that?” If she’s gonna corner you here, you’re at least gonna ask some questions too.

“It’s a long story, not mine to tell. But I’m sure Bob would tell you. If you let him.” Then she’s turning, heading straight for the door. 

That’s it? 

That’s all she had to say?

What, was she trying to scare you into talking to him?

Your heart ached. You thought he liked you, thought he had maybe cared for you like you cared for him. And it’s okay if he didn’t but why did he have to make it the most painful way possible?

—

You don’t get much sleep that night. Tossing and turning as you replay the past few months in your head. Bob was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type to be malicious. Not the type to purposefully torture others. 

And you doubt he sent Yelena after you. She probably just saw him hurting and decided to step in. Completely understandable, and in its own way that hurt too.

It hurt because it meant that Bob was hurting. He missed you as much as you missed him. And he’s had much less context for why you’re avoiding him.

You decide you’ll go to the shop in the morning. Hang out with Tasha and maybe, if you’re lucky, run into Bob.

—

You manage to fall asleep, not for long but it's better than nothing. The anxiety you have is making you shake.

Whether it's your hands, your arms, or your legs, somethings been moving all morning.

To calm yourself, you take the long way. Make a stop at a cafe, getting Tasha a coffee as well since you’re an amazing coworker. 

When you come up on the bookshop, you can see Bob through the window. 

While you can’t see his face, you know he’s not 100%. 

His shoulders are slouching, caving in on himself it seems. He’s saying something to Tasha, trying to get her to accept another note by the looks of it. 

The jingle of the bell above the door makes both of them freeze. 

Tasha’s eyes widen, recognition that you’re finally facing the music flashing through them. And that must be what makes Bob turn around.

He turns slowly. Eyes slowly roaming over your body before finally landing on your face. His mouth falls open, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

Then his lower lip starts to wobble, tears gathering over his waterline making his eyes glassy, and he’s moving towards you.

Slow, unsure steps lead him to a few feet in front of you. His hands move over your shoulders, not daring to touch you, but hovering close enough for you to just barely feel their warmth. 

“I’m so,so,so, sorry. I’ve been working on it, and I just..” He swallows before continuing, not breaking eye contact, “I feel so calm. Like - like I’m at peace, when I’m around you, so I thought it wouldn’t happen. I thought I could break it to you slowly, a-after you accepted a second date.”

You’re just standing there. The damn coffee you got prevents you from wringing your hands, and it’s difficult to bounce your legs when standing. 

The urge to back away from him is strong. But you can tell he’s trying, you can tell that he wants you to believe him.

When Bob realizes you aren’t going to respond, he continues, “I thought it would be too heavy, you know? To tell you about all of this baggage that I have. Thought that if I told you, everything would change.” 

“A warning would have been nice.” You’re not looking at him anymore, instead staring at your shoes. It’s a shame you didn’t trip on your lace on the way here, then you wouldn’t have had to come.

“I know.” Bob sighs, “I know that now. And if I could go back, I would have told you. Warned you even if I ended up being the boy that cried wolf.”

You see his hands retract, no longer hovering over your shoulders. You don’t understand why he pulls his sleeves over his hands. But then he’s placing his, now covered, hands on your shoulders. The grip he has is strong, but not painful, “I need you to know. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Intentionally at least.” 

“So you’d do it unintentionally?” 

You’re being difficult. Intentionally. Mostly because he’s not making sense, what type of scumbag says he’d never hurt you intentionally. That’s like the bare minimum.

“There’s… A lot to explain. I’ll explain it all, if you’ll let me!” He’s leaning a bit now, bending at the knees to get a look into your eyes. 

When you do meet his eyes, you can see the sincerity. They haven’t stopped glistening, still shiny with unshed tears. But it looks like he wants you to look into his soul, to understand that from deep in his core he is apologetic. 

A scumbag wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t have covered their hands to prevent touching you. They wouldn’t have been trying so hard to get in contact with you. 

So you nod. 

You’ve agreed to meet him again. Not on a date, but for some answers. 

He wants to do it today.

You tell him that you need time. To process or prepare, you’re not sure. But you know you need time.

Your feelings about him haven’t had the proper time to dissipate, so a small part of you still hopes that everything could work out.

—

When you do come around and text Bob that you’re ready to talk. His response comes almost immediately.

You invite him to your apartment. It’s more intimate than you would like, however it would save you the embarrassment of how you would end up if he were to send you to a ‘shame room’ again.

When Bob gets there, he's nervous. Just a little twitchy, not too much but enough to be noticeable. 

He’s brought pastries. Something about his mother telling him to ‘never show up empty handed’ tumbles from his lips as he hands them to you.

You offer him a drink, like this is just going to be a fun catch up between pals. 

Not sure what to expect, you lead Bob to your dining room table. It’s a good space to have this conversation, not too comfortable like the couch, but not too formal like standing near the door.

“So -” You can barely get it out of your mouth before Bob starts spilling his life story to you.

He doesn’t go too deep into any one topic, but he makes sure that you can paint a clear picture in your mind.

He had a rough childhood, never close with either of his parents. That led him to drugs, which then ebbed into addiction. 

The addiction sent him all around the world, sometimes trying to get better, most times trying to find more, better, different drugs.

He ended up in Malaysia, they offered him a test run of some new drug. One that would make him ‘better’. 

Everyone could be better, him more than others. 

But then there's a blank slate in his memory. No recollection of what happened after they gave him the drug.

Until he ends up in some bunker with 3 of his 6 companions. They escaped together and have been working to make the world a ‘better place’.

“Wait. What do you mean you've been ‘working to make the world a better place’?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he went on his tangent, and Bob looks surprised that you had something to say.

“Well, they do. Not me, I focus on… Communications mostly. Because I don’t have a good enough grasp on my powers yet.” 

“And what exactly do they do?”

“It’s uh - Classified?” 

You scoff, “Classified..? What do you think you are? The Avengers?”

After you mutter your rhetorical question, Bob looks away.

“No way. You’re an Avenger?”

“Technically.” His heads down, leaving you to stare at his scalp instead of his eyes.

“And all the people you came into the shop with? They’re Avengers too?”

“Yeah. They’re more flashy. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t recognize them, to be honest.” He huffs out a laugh, seemingly glad that you’re actually taking part in the conversation now.

Your response is quiet, “It’s a psychological thing.”

Bob hums in response, urging you to continue.

“When you see someone, like a superhero, out of where your brain assumes they would be, most times you miss it. Some of your friends looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I saw them, until now.”

“That’s… Wow, I never knew that.” Bob’s looking at you with a bit of awe in his eyes.

But then he’s straight back to business.

He tells you about how before, his bad days were bad and he’d black out. But now after the treatment, another, worse side of him has awakened. 

That’s how he transported you into one of your worst memories. 

“At least one person from the team stayed with me, all the time. That’s how it was when I first met you.” Bob’s tapping his fingers against the table, in a slow rhythmic pattern, “But then I wanted to take you out. And who goes on a date with a chaperone when we’re adults, right?”

“Yeah, right.” You’re laughing at him, or maybe with him.

“So, I started working on containing my powers more. Working on making them my own, so that I could be by myself. M-more like so I could be alone with you.”

“Just with me?” 

He’s nodding, “Just with you. And it went really good! To the point where I could go out on all sorts of different errands by myself.”

His cup has started to sweat. All the condensation building up on it from being untouched this whole time. Because you care about your well loved table, you reach across and lift his cup before placing it on a coaster. It slows him down for a second before he can continue.

“It was the nerves. O-or at least I think it was the nerves. I don’t know for sure what causes it; nobody does.”

“So, you being nervous about being on a date made you send me to my own personal hell?”

“Being on a date, with you specifically, yes.”

The way he’s opened up to you has greatly increased your trust in him.

If everything he’s saying was true, he had a bad deal in life and he’s doing the best with what he’s got. The Bob you knew did have some confidence problems, taking a while to open up to you originally so it wouldn't be surprising that he would be nervous.

It also wouldn’t be surprising that him being nervous would send his powers out of wack. There’s been articles about it before, how super powered individuals don’t realize the way their emotions are affecting their powers before it’s too late.

And if he’s lying. You’d have to give him a shot for just how damn good of a lie it was. No one could lie that good without a purpose.

So you reach across the table, towards Bob’s fidgeting hand. His eyes aren’t looking up so you only know that he sees you when his fingers stop tapping.

“I want to try.” You gulp and take a steadying breath, “I’d like to try with you if I didn’t put you off too much.”

You’re not touching him. Even though you would be the one suffering, it only felt right for him to make the first move. Not wanting to overstep by triggering his powers again.

After a couple of seconds he still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t looked up at you, hasn’t grasped your hand, hasn’t even twitched his fingers.

Then, softly, like if he speaks too loud the room would crack around him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure.”

Slowly, his hand rises up to meet yours. When they connect nothing changes.

No black tendrils crawling up your walls, no darkness consuming you with no escape, no flashbacks to things you don’t want to remember.

The only thing you feel is the warmth from Bob’s hand. The calluses on his palm, small, but still present. You feel the tender way his thumb brushes over your knuckles. 

Once he realizes that nothing’s happening, he grips your hand tighter. It seems unconscious, the surprise from nothing bad happening overtaking him before he can stop it.

He’s beaming at you. A kiddish smile, one that allows all the joy to really shine through. 

You’re no better. Smiling so wide that if you didn’t stop, your cheeks would start to hurt.

Everyone has baggage, some of them more than others. But that doesn’t mean that anyone is undeserving. Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give someone a chance to prove that they can be more than their baggage. 

You wouldn’t deprive yourself of this opportunity. Wouldn’t be so unkind to deprive Bob of it either. So with the promise that he would be honest with you. That he would communicate to you, the good and the bad, no matter what. You and Bob start your relationship.

Moving over to the couch, finally able to be comfortable, instead of cordial. The two of you settle into a movie, sitting close. Close enough to touch, but not actually touching.

Until halfway through, when your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the blanket that you have resting on the back of the couch comes to rest over your laps.

Your curiosity over Bob may have ‘killed’ you, sending you into a week-long depression for many different reasons. Leading to you shutting out the world, not willing to accept the fact that you were wrong about him.

But the way that you’re feeling right now. Feeling Bob lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulders, letting your head fall onto his chest instead of his shoulder. Hearing his heart thumping in his chest, almost lulling you to sleep. 

You know that this is satisfaction. It’s bloomed deep in your chest, taking a permanent residence there. Deeply rooted like it's attached to every neuron in you. And you know that it’s brought you back.

likes/comments/reblogs give me buffs to my character (greatly appreciated <3)

[hanginginthevoid]

If i were to (hypothetically) write a joaquin fic how would we feel?

[hanginginthevoid]

Wheres the REST of it... you cannot leave a sista on a cliffhanger like this.....

Project: Get Over Bob

pairing. Bob Reynolds x reader

synopsis. Bob likes someone that’s not you and now it's up to you to begin Project Get Over Bob.

warnings. no use of y/n, not much angst right now, reader pining for Bob but pushing it all down!! Bob breaking my little y/n's heart.

word count. 2.7k.

Bob Reynolds was many things, but one thing he wasn’t, was subtle.

You knew it.

He knew it.

Everyone knew it.

So when he started batting his eyelashes at the owner of the local bookstore, you knew that you might have to get rid of your crush.

You and Bob had known each other now for at least a year, and had fallen into the perfect morning routine.

You’d wake up at 7am, stumble your way into the kitchen, knocking on everyone’s doors as you went. Of course, Ava, Bucky, and Walker would have already left for training, but it was nice to cause a bit of ruckus so early in the day. You’d pop some coffee on and by the time it brewed, Bob would be sitting at the island in the middle of the room with a grin and an extra Splenda packet for you.

But today?

Today, he was nowhere to be found.

“Coffee for me?”  Yelena asked as she wiggled her brows at you.

You smiled and scoffed “Knock yourself out”

“Have you seen my bowie knife, I think I left it in the sink but I came to grab it last night and it was gone.” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out in such a cute way you couldn’t help but grin and pinch her cheeks.

“You left your disgusting dirty knife in the sink?!! We practically EAT out of there”  Walker shouts.

“We don’t eat out of the sink stupid”

“Well, if we’re washing our dishes in the sink and we eat off of them then – yeah – we do”

“So what? You decided to throw my knife away because of that??”

Yelena’s accusation turns John bright red, the two bickering and throwing insults around at a rapid pace.

While those two are enthralled in a ‘spirited debate��  Ava and Bucky stroll in. The latter animatedly mimicking what you think? is some kind of old-school wrestling move. Bucky suddenly tunes into the two blondes’ argument, starts to smirk and you raise a brow at his reaction. His wink back was enough evidence that he definitely had something to with the disappearance of Lena’s knife.

Yeah, you need to learn how to rage bait effectively from the centurion.

The elevator chimes and you all turn to see Bob waving, carrying a very nice smelling paper bag which you can only hope are filled with some almond doughnuts from Supermoon.

You open your mouth to say something, until a small figure comes out from behind him. Long black hair, big eyes and-and wait it’s the lady from the bookstore?

You’d spoken to her before and honestly, she was lovely, super smart and made your day every time you stepped foot to her store. She'd recommended Dante's Inferno to you when you’d ask for an all-time classic so obviously you had to love her. You liked her so much you’d even taken her email so you both could discuss you guys’ excitement for the new Odyssey film.

And now here she was, the kind woman from the store clinging onto Bob’s side.

All you could see was his hand, Bob’s hand, your Bob’s hand covering hers so tenderly.

The way he did with you.

Everyone’s gaze seemed to zero in on you and your reaction.

“Hey guys um Lily and I are heading to the game room, you-you guys are welcome to join, we’re watching ‘The Shining’!” God, the way his eyes shifted to hers in such a soft way, assuring her that she was welcome here, killed you.

He stares at you for a moment; you know Bob was looking for some comfort from you, that yes he's made a good choice in finally trying to live a normal life.

Through your shock you pull yourself together, give a thumbs up and wink, mouthing the words ‘she’s cute’. You heart may be breaking but you care for him too much to not support something that makes him so obviously happy.

You can see him visibly relax and as the others rally to greet Lily a sudden flurry of steps from Alexei stole the group’s attention. The large leather clad (you’d have to have a conversion to him about the concept of lounge wear) man claps his hands together as he caught sight of the two in the doorway.

“Finally Bob, you ask Lily to come here. You know he asked me over and over and over advice on how to charm pretty woman with shop” he says, turning to the group with a smile on his face.

Yelena places her hand in the small of your back and glares at Alexei, the man looking absolutely bewildered at the others’ reaction to what he thinks is the best news he’d heard all week.

“So.. you both are together or –“ John questions, shooting an inquisitive look between the two.

“We haven’t really, well, haven’t put a label on it yet, we’re just hanging out, right-right?” he turns to face her, and every inch of her face lights up as she laughs.

“Yeah, this is his audition for boyfriend”, nudging him in a familiar way.

They’d only known each other a month why were they suddenly so buddy-buddy?

Ava, as kind as ever, decides to change the subject, asking about the team’s plans for next month’s mission. You hear the words safe-house and horses but can’t bring yourself to care.

The lovebirds take this as their cue to leave and Bob gives you a soft smile as he walks away with someone that’s not you.

Ok.

Time to get over Robert Reynolds once and for all.

Phase 1

You decided to split Project Get Over Bob into 4 phases = fill up your timetable and become busy - stop hanging out with Bob – stop thinking of Bob – reach the ultimate nirvana and make yourself invisible to him.

Ok, well the phases were vaguely something like that.

Simple right?

Phase 1 was easy; you’d used the guise of a new hobby (jiu-jitsu) as an excuse to be out of any kind of common area or team activity. Claiming to the team during the monthly debrief that you had to know the sport as an effective cover for your mission.

So, while half of your day was taken up by morning classes and sparring in the afternoon with Lena and Buck, there was still the entirety of the evening to deal with.

You and Bob spent most evenings cooking dinner, filling reports to send off to Mel and watching shitty French arthouse films until you were both knocked out for the day. This had to stop.

Ottolenghi could wait, you thought to yourself as you booted up your laptop and found the perfect pottery class that was on the other side of the city and about 2 hours long.

“Are you trying to replace all of our plates?” a voice says from behind you, causing you to jump and almost drop the drink you were holding in your free hand.

“Jesus John, learn to make some noise when walking into a room!”

Walker jumps over the sofa landing snuggly next to you, he reeks of sweat nothing too bad but you wrinkle your nose in faux disgust.

“You smell awful did you roll around in dirt before you got here or what”

“I’ll have you know I beat Bucky and Alexei while sparring today, hence the sweat”

You look at him incredulously. There was no way that Walker could beat them 1 v 2. Sure, he was strong he’d managed to rough you up plenty of times but James had the fancy hydra serum and well Alexei was just out of his mind Russian so how did the so called ‘second rate’ captain America manage to beat them?

As if catching onto your line of thought John grabs your head and brings his arm around your neck, playfully tickling you with the other. Your burst out in giggles, gasping and shouting at him to let you go.

While he has you in a headlock without mercy Lily and Bob walk in.

Their conversation stalls as Bob lays his eyes on the two of you messing around.

Walker straightens up and you stare at him confused with the immediate shift in behaviour.

“What are you both doing?” he questions his voice tight and his hands clenched at his sides.

“John managed to best the two greatest super soldiers on earth, apparently. I personally don't believe it” you state while winking in Lily’s direction. She holds her mouth with her palm, attempting to hide her laugh.

“Anyway, I’ve got some work to catch up on so I’ll see you guys later”,  you clap your hands while standing up and shuffle out of the room, bidding goodbye to them all.

Bob looks at your retreating figure, both John and Lily staring at him snaps him out of his daze and he leads her to the lab downstairs.

You couldn’t wait to leave the room, Bob’s reaction made no sense to you. You knew he was always slightly awkward with Walker but they had hashed out whatever issues they had months ago, so why was he so annoyed with him today?

The rest of the week goes by with you keeping as busy as possible, you can count on one hand how many times you’d even seen Bob and you wanted to keep it that way.

You told yourself all you had to do was make it to week 4, and you would be off to Mongolia with Alexei and Walker for at least 2 months, and by then the Bob-shaped hole in your heart would be filled up and pasted over.

Phase 2

All you needed to do for phase 2 of your plan was to wean yourself off the drug that was Bob. The aforementioned drug was not making it easy for you, even though you’d changed your habits, he hadn’t.

Every day he would wake up even earlier than usual and make your favourite breakfast of blueberry pancakes and an iced black coffee, leaving it on the counter closest to the elevator. He would stand next to your breakfast, almost militant in ensuring you ate every last bit because how else would you have enough energy for jiu-jitsu? He was so happy that you had decided to take on a new hobby and put yourself out there, you deserved to have fun so of course he wanted to show his support in any way he could.

You’d then decided to take the stairs around the back so you could avoid him but  he’d taken to waiting by reception with your breakfast in a small tin, like a wife waving her husband off for work. Was Bob your wife?

Never mind.

You’d decided to forgo even more sleep and join John in his 4am gym sessions, leaving for class after sparing with the super solider that spent 2 hours kicking your ass so hard that by the time you got to class you were aching.

At least it had limited your conversations with Bob.

One other problem needed to be solved.

Bob’s night terrors were almost daily and before Erica-gate you had allowed him to come to your room, he’d nestle himself into your sofa, you would wake up sometime after and speak to him until he felt at ease at which point he would whisper goodnight and tip toe back to his own bed.

You knew deep down that he only came to your room because it was closest to his, the comfort of your sofa was the most alluring part to him, you guess. It was bigger than Bucky’s, way softer than whatever the hell John had stuffed in his room, cleaner than Ava’s and Alexei and Yelena had declined any kind of comforts in their rooms so that wasn’t an option for him.

Bob loved your room.

So you would need to change your room.

It had to be sneaky, the others were already pestering you about changing your training timetable, but a big change like this would arouse suspicion from Bob. Maybe a burst pipe would be best.

You knelt next to your sink, gripping the hammer you’d stolen from the construction team plastering the entrance of the tower after an unfortunate parking incident at the hands of Yelena. You weren’t worried about the sound of you brutally slamming the hammer to the pipe, you’d forced Valentina to sound proof everyone’s bathrooms out of fear the others would hear you screaming your lungs out to Dionne Warwick every morning.

One final hit and water exploded across the room, soaking the floor and walls. Within minutes, the water seeped into the carpet of your room and once you were satisfied you changed out of your wet clothes and temporarily disposed of the hammer under your bed.

Running out your room you shouted for Ava – she was always locked in her room, tinkering away at her next project- you asked her to call maintenance up and with that phase 2 was well on its way.

The team sans Bob gathered round your room door as the very kind man who had fixed up your bathroom informed you and Mel that the flooring would need to be replaced because of the risk of Mold.

You struggled to hide your joy at the success of your plan so turned your face to grin at yourself. Quickly turning back and putting on a concerned face as you ‘brainstormed’ a solution to your-self inflicted dilemma.

 Ava tutted loudly as the group discussed where you would be staying. She locked eyes with you and gave you a look you couldn’t figure out, you’d have to chase her up on that later.

“Could I have the room next to you Buck?” his was the furthest from yours and would provide a respite from the man that you were attempting to avoid.

“Yeah course kid, need a hand with your stuff?”

You both spent the day moving every single item in your room into the one at the end of the hall, there wasn’t even a speck of dust that could have been traced back to you.

As you brought the last box out of your room Bob rounded the corner. It had been a few days since you’d last spoken to the man and even the sight of his face felt like too much for you to handle. But ignoring him now would be cruel and it wasn’t like you were trying to punish the guy.

Right?

His hair was up in a clip, something he normally only did when at self-care night with you and the other girls, tucked into Lena’s covers with a hyaluronic face mask and a hot chocolate. You liked it, he’d normally have his hair covering his face but you like seeing him, all of him.

“What happened? Why-why is your room boarded up, did something happen-“

“A pipe burst so I had to switch to a different room” you shrugged. “Buck offered the one attached to his so-”

“What-what about the one next to mine?”

Shit.

You hadn’t really thought about a good excuse for that, obviously, the one next to his would be the more reasonable option but you quickly spit out a lie.

“I was considering it… but the view from the other side of the tower is so great at night! It’s nicer to have a view of Central Park than Goldman Sachs when I’m working”

He nods in understanding, “Oh ok that makes sense”  He stills for a moment, and it looks as if he may say something, but he stops himself.

You take advantage of his hesitation. “I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna turn in m’kay, see you around Bob”

“Yeah-yeah I’ll see you, goodnight”

You walk past him as quickly as possible without looking back; if you had, you would have seen the absolutely devastated look on his face.

Bob wasn’t stupid.

He’d been trying to get your attention for the past two weeks and he knew that you were working hard to prepare for your mission, but you always made time for him no matter what.

Bob decided he would get to the bottom of your strange mood, no matter what it took.

Hey guys, hope you like the fic so far, It’s my first time writing fanfiction and not consuming it so if anyone has any writing tips pls let me know!

[hanginginthevoid]

Four Weeks : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Thunderbolts!Reader

Summary: When a four-week mission keeps you and Bob separated, with no contact whatsoever, there's nothing either of you wants more than to simply be in each other's arms.

Warnings: SO much fluff, SPOILERS kinda for Thunderbolts*, female reader description, established relationship, language, tiniest bit suggestive but nothing steamy

Word Count: 3,749 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

Four weeks. 

You’d been away from the tower, from the team, for four weeks now, and you couldn’t have been happier to be coming back to the place you were slowly beginning to call home. Well, it helped that one specific person in that tower had become home to you.

Valentina had sent you and John Walker on a ‘deep shadow conditions’ mission in the Amazon Rainforest, miles to the west of Manacapuru. There were rumors of an organization dealing illegal weapons somewhere in the area along the Manacapuru River, and somehow, Valentina’s friends at O.X.E. ended up tied up in the dealings. Putting her faith in the two of you, it was your job to survey the area, infiltrate, and get the O.X.E. personnel out before things got nasty (not that either you or Walker wanted to play Valentina’s clean-up personnel anymore, but you were out of options). Unfortunately, the mission's ‘deep shadow conditions’ meant no contact with the rest of the team from the second you left the tower until the second you were back on U.S. soil.

That meant you’d gone four weeks without Bob, the longest the pair of you had been apart from one another since the day you’d met in Valentina’s vault.

“You should’ve let me check out that injury on the jet ride back,”

You couldn’t help yet another eyeroll at John’s comment, wincing as he attempted to help you out of the car as it dropped you both off in front of the New York City tower. A hiss left your lips as John’s hand even touched your waist, pain shooting through you as he tried to help you stand straight.

“I’ll take a look at it myself when we get upstairs,” you’d told him as he let you grab onto his arm, using him as a crutch in order to get into the building and make your way past security toward the elevator. He didn’t miss the small glare you shot up at him. “This injury is your fault, don’t forget it.”

“How could I? You made sure to remind me the entire ride back here…”

The elevator to the top floors of the tower, occupied by The New Avengers themselves, was the slowest elevator ride of your entire life. Deep shadow conditions meant you and John were surely NOT living a life of luxury. The safe house you’d been put up in wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but when two Avengers would surely stick out like a sore thumb in their gear, you couldn’t exactly stay right in the middle of civilization without fear of the mission being blown before it had even begun.

It had been a small house, far enough away from the main town to not draw suspicion, but it had its downsides because of it. The water pressure was far from what either of you were used to. Options for breakfast, lunch, and dinner were much slimmer than the endless options the always-stocked fridge in the Tower provided, and you certainly weren’t sleeping on the expensive, memory foam mattresses your rooms in the Tower provided you with.

Plus, the safe house didn’t have Bob.

“OUR FRIENDS! YOU HAVE RETURNED IN ONE PIECE!”

Alright, maybe Alexei’s inability to use an ‘inside voice’ was something you hadn’t missed these last four weeks.

Since John had alerted the team the second that you’d landed in U.S. airspace and were in your protective detail vehicle on your way back to the tower, the team must’ve been anxiously waiting in the common room space of the tower for your return.

Yelena was on you both in a second, helping take your bags from John as he still was helping keep you upright, the pain evident on your face no matter how much you tried to hide it. Bucky and Ava were trying to tell Alexei that he needed to use his ‘inside voice’ that he clearly didn’t know how to use, and then there was Bob.

Your sweet Bob, the man who’d stolen your heart so easily, just as you’d stolen his own. 4 weeks was too long to be away from him, not that it had been easy for you to leave him in general that day.

“Y-You’ll be safe?”

Bob had stumbled over his words as you stood in what used to be your bedroom, but had quickly, in the course of a few months, become your shared room. He’d gotten better at stumbling through words and had seemed more comfortable and sure of himself the past few months since beginning his mandated therapy by Valentina, and since finding medication that worked for him. But his nerves were clear when he was standing in front of you as you adjusted the straps across your gear, bag packed for the trip slung over your shoulder as you prepared to leave…prepared to leave him behind.

“I’ll be as safe as I can be. There’s always risks,” you tried to gently remind him. There had been multiple missions since you’d all been forced into this life as The New Avengers, but nothing to this level. Only a team of two, deep in the Amazon Rainforest, and cut off from contact with the rest of the team. It was no wonder that Bob’s anxiety was taking control of him. Your hands quickly found his, and he accepted them without hesitation, squeezing them tightly in his own. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“A whole month,” Bob mumbled, unable to look away from you. His eyes flickered around your face, as if trying to commit every moment of you to memory in case the worst-case scenario came true, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him do so. “I…I’ll miss you.”

He didn’t let you speak before tugging your body into his, but you gladly accepted. Arms wound around his shoulders, hands carding into the hard nipping at the nape of his neck. Bob’s head buried itself into your shoulder, most likely inhaling the vanilla and cinnamon scent of your perfume he’d mentioned a thousand times that he adored. His arms found their familiar place around your waist, securing you to him as if to keep you from leaving.

“Hey-” you’d looked over to the doorway of the room to see John standing there, bag slung across his shoulder. His gaze drifted from you to Bob, who was still buried in your embrace, and a sarcastic comment seemed to die on his tongue as the usual teasing tone in his voice dissipated, instead replaced by something soft and genuine. “Car is out front, we’re shipping out in ten.”

“Thanks, Walker. I’ll meet you there in a bit,” the second your teammate had left the doorway, you were leaning your head back to get a look at Bob, hands tugging ever so slightly on his hair. “Bob, baby, look at me.”

He’d just barely pulled back enough to look at you before you’d pulled him into a kiss, hands weaving into his hair fully now. Bob didn’t hesitate, his grip around your waist tightening, as you both poured every ounce of love and adoration possible into that kiss, knowing it would be all you had to hold onto for weeks to come.

“I-I love you,” Bob mumbled against your lips, such a familiar phrase shared so often between the pair of you since it had been said no even a month prior, and your lips curled up into a smile. 

“I love you, too. I’ll be back soon, I promise,”

He looked the same, not that you’d expected him to look much different in just four short weeks. His hair had grown out slightly, as he only trusted you to cut it. But other than the obvious change in hair length, signalling time had passed since you’d seen him, he looked just like he did the day you’d left. That familiar blue sweatshirt you’d gotten him two months ago, those grey sweatpants he always gravitated toward whenever he was reading in his nook by the window, and that tiny, shy smile on his face that was full of affection and adoration for you and only you.

“You look like hell,” Yelena said, drawing your attention back to her. Her hand shot out to grab your side the second that Walker let it go, and you hissed audibly, causing her hand to shoot out to your arm instead to hold you steady. “Jesus, the fuck happened to you?”

“Ask that dipshit over there,” John rolled his eyes at the glare you shot his way as Yelena helped you move away from the elevator and into the common room slowly. “Finally intercepted the drop point for the sale and almost had those O.X.E. employees out of there without a single incident, until Walker over here got trigger happy and shot the man behind me-”

“He was pulling a knife on you! You couldn’t see it because he was behind you!” John was exasperated, unloading the weapons on his belt onto the table as the team watched the conversation play out. “Did you want a knife in your side?”

“I took a gunshot to the side instead because you started a war, essentially, so maybe!” seeing the incredulous look on Yelena’s face, you quickly waved her off. “I wasn’t actually shot, it was just a graze, I’m fine.”

“Graze is just as bad-”

“How was the weather in beautiful, beautiful South America, huh?”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to Alexei, a mix of confusion and pure wonder about how he always managed to ask the completely wrong questions at the completely wrong time.

Your eyes found Bob again, though, and he was already looking at you, hands fidgeting at his sides. You’d waited long enough to see him again, you didn’t want to wait another second to just be back in his embrace.

“Warm, Alexei. Very, very warm and very humid,” Yelena didn’t fight you as you left her side as you spoke to her father, hobbling across the room and instantly slotting yourself against Bob.

It felt like a homecoming in and of itself, just simply holding him again. From the second Bob had grown comfortable being around you, with simply touching you, there was never a time when either of you didn’t seem to be clinging to one another. Hand holding under the table, sharing blankets on the couch pressed into one another's sides, your bedroom becoming a shared space. Four weeks without the usual feel of his body that managed to run incredibly warm, of inhaling that fresh scent of his laundry detergent that he loves that you’d grown accustomed to being surrounded by, was far too long.

Bob didn’t hesitate to open his arms and bring you in, head resting on your own as you buried yourself into his chest, desperate to just have him close. Being in his arms again was like a breath of fresh air, a weight finally lifted off your shoulders. His arms held you tightly to him, just as desperate to feel you as well, careful not to aggravate the side of your body as the team droned on around them in conversation.

“Hi,” you mumbled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, feeling the small rumble of his chest as he let out a short laugh.

“Hi,” he’d mumbled back into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “I…I missed you.”

“We still need to finish off the mission report for Valentina, she said she wants it on her desk by the end of the day-”

“Walker, the love birds are back together again. I think you can handle that report yourself,”

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself from Bob’s arms, sending Bucky a thankful smile that he gave a short nod to, before turning your attention back to Walker.

“John, you know I love you, but I just spent four weeks with you and practically got shot because of you. You can handle the report…I’m going to relax on a mattress that I took for granted before this mission,”

There was small laughter from the rest of the team, and short call outs of ‘sleep well’ and ‘glad you're okay’ from your friends before they turned their attention back to Walker. Bob’s hand was wound tightly in yours before you were both off toward the privacy of your bedroom.

You know for a fact you’d left the bedroom in a state of disarray when you’d left for the mission. Clothes had been strewn about, the blankets and comforter on the bed unmade, as you’d rushed to pack what you needed for the mission. It was perfect, now. The bed was made, and all of your clothes had been put back into your dresser or hung up in the closet, even the contents of your desk had been organized. There was even a new frame sitting on your bedside table, holding a photostrip of you and Bob taken months ago on an impromptu team trip to Coney Island (that Valentina had complained about).

“Thanks for taking care of the mess I left behind,” you said quietly to Bob, leaning against his shoulder as you both barely stood in the room together. He shut the door behind you both, turning so that you were facing him, and the tiny smile that adorned his lips.

“Didn’t want you to come home to a mess,” there was something about the way Bob looked at you when he said the word home that sent a flutter through your chest. He wasn’t talking about the tower; he meant home with him. “Plus uh, I kind of hated sleeping in the mess.”

You’d barely let yourself laugh at his little comment before your hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that you’d been craving since the moment you and John had left the tower a month prior. The instant tension release in your body the second your lips met his was noticeable, to both you and to Bob.

The kiss in itself was sweet, fueled on your end by the tiredness you’d been feeling for days and the ache in every bone and muscle of your body. But Bob’s kisses back were fueled by need, by the desperate need to simply feel you and know that this wasn’t a dream, that you were back and you were okay and he could stop worrying his pretty little head off for weeks on end.

The moment was broken the second his hands found your waist, injury forgotten for a moment as his hand gripped your side. Another hiss of pain shot out of you, and you visibly flinched in his hands, backing just an inch away to cup at your side.

“Jesus fucking christ, that shit hurts,”

“I’m sorry,” Bob was immediately apologizing, hands hovering over your arms like he was afraid to touch you again and make it worse. “I-I forgot, I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You didn’t, I promise,” you were quick to reassure him with a shake of your head and a smile, even if the pain was visible in your smile. “Just probably needs disinfected and wrapped, is all. Kind of had to immediately jump on a jet back to the country right after it happened.”

Bob’s hand drifted down to your side again, fingers almost hesitantly ghosting over your side, before he looked back up to you.

“Lie down, let me see it…y-you always take care of me, let me take care of you. Please,”

Well, you never were able to say no to those gorgeous blue eyes you loved so much.

It wasn’t long later that you were sprawled out on your shared bed, head lifted up on a mountain of pillows. The worn-in suit you’d been wearing for weeks was strewn across the room in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments that, after all this time, still brought a red flush to Bob’s skin. It wasn’t the first time you’d been practically naked in front of him, but it still managed to fluster Bob in a way that always made you smile.

The love of your life himself knelt next to the bed at your side, carefully looking over the area at your waist now that it could be fully seen, the medkit from your bathroom lying at his side. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but that didn’t mean it was a pretty sight. Your entire side was bruised in a deep purple, brought on by the hand-to-hand combat that had ensued after Walker had taken that shot. The shot had managed to take off a layer of skin, leaving behind a bloody, red strip across your skin that throbbed now that clean air was hitting it.

Bob was gentle with every movement, a sight that made your heart melt. You’d been by his side for everything, from The Void to things as simple as attending his first therapy session or waking him up from a nightmare, so now to be on the receiving end of his gentle and loving care had love practically bursting out of your chest at the sight. He disinfected the area, mumbling apologies every time you winced at the pain it caused, but your eyes never left the side of his face, and the smile on your lips never left either.

“So, how was the last month here in the tower?”

“Uneventful, for the most part,” Bob paused for a moment before shyly shaking his head with a laugh. “Well uh, there was one night w-where Alexei thinks Ava admitted to having a crush on John, but they couldn’t get her to admit it.”

“Funny, since John spent the last four weeks bringing up Ava any chance he got, even if he disguised it as making fun of her,” laughter was shared between you both for a moment before the room fell into silence again as Bob generously applied the healing ointment across the graze. “And you? How were you?”

“Missing you like crazy,” he didn’t hesitate to say it, looking up at you with another shy smile as he covered your entire side with one of the large, waterproof wraps from the kit. “Yelena made fun of me for it. Bucky, he uh…he tried to train me to take my mind off you. I-I may have…broken a window.”

You didn’t care that laughter made your side ache more; you couldn’t help it at the simple thought of Bucky attempting to help Bob train. It seemed he thought it was funny, too, laughing with you at the memory. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, and you melted at the way Bob immediately leaned into you, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. So much more confident, so much more sure of himself than he had been months prior. You adored it.

“I would’ve paid to see that,”

“T-The window is still broken, so you could,” he commented back. “When I grabbed the medkit, I uh, I ran a hot bath for you, if you wanted to take one?”

“Only if you join me,”

Intimacy on a level such as that was something the pair of you had only breached once, just days prior to leaving for your mission. It had taken a while to understand Bob’s comfort levels with intimacy as a whole after he’d managed to tell you the stories he did remember from his drug-haze-filled past, tangles of limbs that he could barely remember now. He’d been scared to cross that bridge with you, scared to touch intimacy on levels such as that, because you were different. He loved you, he needed and wanted those moments to feel different, for him to feel fully present in those moments, to give you everything he knew you both wanted and deserved.

In turn, you’d taught him that intimacy was so much more than sex, that sex was only the smallest part of it. Intimacy is about vulnerability, about allowing yourself to show someone the best and the worst parts of you, knowing they’ll love you anyway. Every hand hold, every hug, every kiss, and every late night spent looking out at the city skyline and never running out of something to talk about was intimacy in its purest form. And when you taught him that, it all became so much easier for Bob. That’s why he nodded yes to you the second you’d asked him, not a moment of hesitation in him.

The hot water felt like a soothing balm to your aching bones and muscles the second you sank into the water, scented vanilla with the bodywash you typically used that Bob had dumped in. The best medicine, though, was simply the feel of Bob against you, skin on skin as his superhuman warmth seemed to heat the water more than it already was. You were barely submerged within the water when Bob pulled you into his lap, slinging your legs across his lap as his arms wound around your waist, holding you to him while still careful to put pressure around your wound.

You didn’t hesitate, arms finding their place around his shoulders and wet, soapy hand winding into his hair. He leaned in, his nose brushing with yours before he simply pressed his forehead to your own, eyes closed as he savored the intimacy of the moment.

“I love you,” Bob didn’t always sound sure when he spoke, his insecurities still shining through in moments. But whenever he uttered those three simple words, he never sounded more sure of himself. “No more month-long missions.”

“I love you, too,” you breathed out through a laugh, pressing the softest of kisses to his lips, laughing again as he chased after the feeling. “Can’t promise anything about the missions, though. You know how Valentina is.”

“Y-Yeah, well, I’m personally telling her you can’t leave me again,”

There was simply another shared laugh between you both before you settled into comfortable silence with one another, simply basking in the moment in one another’s arms, finally back together again. And while you both knew Bob himself wouldn’t be storming into Valentina’s office and demanding anything of her, you mirrored his sentiment.

Bob Reynolds was your home, just as you were his, and you never wanted to be away from home for that long again.

[hanginginthevoid]

Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

summary: almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.

a/n: HI!!! I love the idea of character x powerless!reader almost as much as i love the idea of reader who can take care of themselves. SLOWBURN!!!!! I also wrote like 10 pages straight of this before i slowed down and remember how much i HATE writing endings… 

warnings: reader gets screamed at, probably ooc bob, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 8.2k

---

Your life would be considered mundane. You spend most of your time studying, if you weren’t studying you were at work. But to be honest, you were studying at work too. Sure you still go out with your friends, but you’re not paying thousands upon thousands of dollars to not get this degree. 

The bookshop that you work at is cute. The brick walls painted sage green, the bookshelves that lined the walls, along with the display tables, were a nice dark mahogany. Small bouquets of different flowers were painted around the shop, like easter eggs for customers to spot.

If the customers actually look at the design choices, you’d never know. Most of the customers that you saw were business or finance bro’s and ladies trying to assert themselves in their corporate jobs. 

They’d pick up some ‘life-changing’ book, and you’d never see them again. The first floor of the shop was entirely dedicated to non-fiction because of this. Gotta make it easily accessible for the clients.

You prefer fiction, and honestly, it’s a better vibe having to go upstairs to find some whimsy than just staying at the same level. Every once in a while you’ll see someone venturing up there, maybe just to take a few pictures, maybe to actually buy something. Not nearly as often as you’d like though.

Most of the time you keep your head down, busy jotting down notes or highlighting your textbook. You greet customers when they come in, help them find the book they’re looking for if need be, and give them a polite smile while asking about their day as you check them out. But their faces blur together, and none of their responses stick with you for more than a few minutes.

Today was different though.

Today two men walked into the shop. One with shaggy brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a wobbly smile like he’s worried about something, and the other with blonde hair, a beard, and eyes so icy blue you could mistake them for gray. 

The one with brown hair takes to the shelves after returning your greeting. He scans them for a little bit, checking around the displays as well before coming up to you at the checkout counter.

“Hi.. again.” You look up, but he’s avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you, “Do you guys have any books not based not on real stuff?”

You nod along with him, “Yeah, of course. All of our upstairs section is for fiction books.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” And he’s moving away, looking like he’s sizing up the stairs ahead of him.

You feel a little bad for the guy - the guy he’s with is just standing at the door, and he seems unsure about everything. 

Your better judgement fails, putting a tab in your textbook so you don’t lose your place, “Are you looking for anything specific?” 

“Ummm.. Not really? Just - anything fictional.” He’s starting up the stairs before he remembers something and continues his response, “And a series. Something with a lot of books.”

You smile at him, a general customer service smile but it’s softened by the want to be kind to this man, “The Maze Runner is pretty good. Five books in the series.”

With a final nod, he’s up the stairs and it’s just you and the blonde man. You think about asking if you could help him with anything, but any normal person would have already looked around if they wanted to.

They both look familiar. Not excessively, but similar to someone who you would see walking around campus but never had classes with. Like the friend of one of your friends, who only shows up once in a blue moon. 

You can’t place them before the brown haired man comes back with a book. 

He hands, not places down, hands, you a book. Upon glancing at it, you see he picked your recommendation. 

“I think you’ll like it, I was really into it when I read it for the first time.” You scan the book, placing it with the front cover down onto the simple brown packing paper you picked out this morning.

“I think so too. You would be the expert after all,” He huffs out a laugh at the end of his sentence, handing you a credit card to make his payment. 

You smile along with him, sealing the book with a ‘Thank you!’ sticker. After the card clears you hand it back to him, along with the book, and send him off with the hope that he enjoys the book.

As he turns around, he motions to his blonde counterpart, and they both head out the door. Before it shuts though, the man turns around one more time leaving you with a ‘Have a good day!’ and a warm feeling in your chest because there really are still good, kind people out there.

Unlike the normal clientele that you see, you think about this man for the rest of your shift. 

He was attractive, so you’d almost doubt that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Or maybe even a boyfriend, but there’s no way that was the blonde man. He seemed more like a bodyguard…?

He was also kind. He might not have been confident, but that didn’t take away from his other redeeming qualities. 

You think mostly about the fact that he took your recommendation. He didn’t ask for one, so it’s truly surprising that he took what you said into consideration. Paired with the fact that he spent a decent amount of time up there, seemingly pondering his options, just to come back with your recommendation still.

It’s a shame that you’ll probably never see him again. People usually don’t have the time to keep stopping by the same bookshop in this city. Assuming he’s the same as everyone else, he’ll just order the next one online and call it a day.

—

You’re almost immediately proven wrong. Just three days later, the same shaggy haired, blue eyed man walks back into the bookshop.

This time, he’s accompanied by a woman. They greet you, ask how your day is going, then venture upstairs.

You eye them more than you’d like to admit. Trying to figure out these two, the woman is clearly more invested in him than his blonde companion had been.

She's got black hair, green eyes, and an accent. Exotic. 

She stands with him as he browses, inputting her opinion, giving suggestions. Ventures off by herself for a minute before coming back with a book, you assume to recommend it.

Maybe this is the girlfriend. The one who gets to go home and call him her own. By your guesstimate, they’ve only been dating for a little while. Too many boundaries between them to be a really established, committed relationship.

Eventually, you go back to your textbook. Reducing its value every time you annotate, a highlight to show importance, and a note to explain why exactly it's important.

As you're figuring out how you want to color code this set of flashcards, someone gently clears their throat in front of you.

You look up to see the ocean eyed man. He’s smiling at you, soft like he doesn’t want to scare you off. 

“Hey, find everything alright?” You’re standing now, resting your folded arms across the counter.

He nods as he responds, “Yeah, yeah everything was findable.” 

His girlfriend wasn’t beside him anymore, instead she's perusing around the displays about ways to drastically improve your life.

When he hands you the book, you see it’s ‘The Scorch Trials’, the second book in the series you recommended. Guess they spent all that time up there just to flirt.

You scan it, placing it face down on the same brown packing paper as the last book, “Am I safe to assume that you enjoyed the first one?”

“Y-yeah, I didn’t think Alby would die like that. Y’know? He felt like the glue and then boom! He was gone.” 

It’s sweet. He’s not afraid to show his joy from the story. Accentuation his ‘boom’ with his hands, and, holding eye contact. 

“Me either. My favorite is Newt though, so I’m just happy he made it out of the maze.” You’ve sealed the book with a ‘Have a great day!’ sticker, and then you’re handing it back.

“I don’t have a favorite yet, but I’ll keep Newt in mind! He seems like a good guy.” And then his girlfriend is back at his side, ushering him out the door. He yells a ‘Have a good rest of your day!’ over his shoulder, and then they’re disappearing into the busy New York sidewalk.

You wonder if he’ll finish the second one as fast as the first one. Though, you hoped not. 

You wouldn’t be working that day and even if he had a girlfriend he was still a breath of fresh air that you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to inhale. 

Maybe you’d go find a dandelion to wish on after your shift. But then again, he’s just a man. You don’t even know his name for God’s sake. 

Yeah, no dandelion for you.

—

Sunday is the universal reset day. Least you’d think so. You bring your laundry down to your apartment building's laundry room, let it start to do its thing in the washer then head out. 

First grabbing a coffee at the cute coffee shop a couple of blocks down. You swear they make the best macchiatos. 

Then you’re on your way to the grocery store. Getting the most important things first; Greens and proteins. Then the things important to your heart like carbs and cheese, ice cream if it’s weather permitting. Then everything else, from snacks to garbage bags, to dryer sheets, to a new mascara, or maybe even some flowers. 

The trick was getting everything you needed, but not too much that it became difficult to haul home. Today was not one of the days that you got the ratio right.

Maybe you bought too many snacks, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of assignments due this week and that permits a hell of a lot of snacking.

Thankfully, you brought a nearly empty backpack with you, so you’re able to stash some groceries in there and not kill your wrists. It doesn’t help much though, by the time you make it to the elevator your fingers are throbbing and turning white from the lack of circulation.

You put away the refrigerated and frozen items before making your way down the stairs. Gotta burn your calories somehow.

After switching your laundry from the washer to the dryer, you head back upstairs. Starting in the living room you put away stray books, highlighters, pens, and papers. Straighten up the couch by fluffing the cushions, and folding the blankets before grabbing any cups or mugs that may have been left out and bringing them to the kitchen.

You go through the dishes fast, most of them being able to fit into the dishwasher. Then it's putting away the rest of the groceries, and wiping down the counters. 

The bathroom and bedroom are tidied up daily so besides changing the sheets, you forgo taking care of them. Instead vacuuming so that you can just put on a movie and fold your clothes before making dinner.

You can barely hear your phone going off from where it rests on your kitchen counter. It gets ignored though, probably just one of your parents checking in, worried because you’ve been swamped with school. You can just text them back before you start folding.

After the vacuum is shut down, and properly stored in your coat closet, you head back downstairs to retrieve your laundry. 

The basket goes between the couch and the coffee table, ensuring you have enough space to section out all your clothes. But you still have to pick a movie. Something you’ve seen before, so you won’t get distracted. Yet still something interesting, so you don’t give up on your laundry halfway through and leave it all around your apartment. 

By the time you remember your phone and the aforementioned text from your parents, you’re about thirty minutes into ‘Madagascar’. The thought of leaving it, and continuing with your progress passes through your mind. And you mull over the idea for a few minutes. But then you remember that not everyone has parents that care about them, and you push yourself off the couch to go get your phone.

When you turn it on while walking back to the couch, you notice that it wasn’t from your parents. Instead you're met with a message from Tasha, your coworker. Maybe the shop ran out of a popular book? Or a customer wanted to return a, clearly, read book again.

Opening the chat, you see that it’s neither of those. 

Tasha: Some guy came in today asking about you

What guy could come in asking about you? Would this be your chance to meet some millionaire who’d pay for your tuition. God you hoped so. At the very least please let him be hot. Well, hot is an overstatement, let him be not horrid to look at.

You’d never know if you didn’t ask though, so you type out a quick reply before sitting back on your couch, digging your hand back into the laundry basket.

Y/n: What guy?

The response is nearly instantaneous.

Tasha: GIRL

Tasha: YOU TOOK

Tasha: SO LONG

Y/n: mb, yk sunday is my reset

Y/n: left my phone on the counter while folding clothes so i didn’t lose my flow

Tasha: does NOT matter

Tasha: he was FINE

Tasha: TALL

Tasha: DARK HAIR

A tall, dark haired man was asking for you? That’s like - half the businessmen in New York. She’d need to be more specific.

Y/n: you gotta gimme sumn else

Y/n: thats like half the people who come in

Tasha: like long dark hair

Tasha: blue eyes

You start typing before you can really think about the implications. 

Y/n: did he get a maze runner book??

Tasha: yeah

Tasha: so who is he

It’s comical how Tasha thinks that he’s interested in you. It’d be nice if he was. You’d definitely accept a date with him if he ever offered. But you’re not a homewrecker. 

Y/n: just a nice dude who doesn’t treat staff like theyre garbage

Y/n: he’s got a girl tho, she came w him last time

It’s getting late, and you’ve fallen behind on your mental schedule. You’ll start dinner while you finish up your conversation, then after you eat you can finish your laundry and head to bed. 

Getting up you take out the ground beef you bought just a few hours ago. Splitting it into two portions you put one half in a ziploc bag and stuff it in your freezer before putting the other half into a pan to brown. As you’re opening a can of crushed tomatoes, your phone dings with a new message.

Tasha: idk 

Tasha: didnt seem like he did when he was describing you

You shake your head as you start adding seasonings to your beef. Also putting a pot of water to boil before wiping your hands to respond.

Y/n: hes just nice

Y/n: dont read into it

Y/n: see u tuesday girly

Then your phone ends up on do not disturb. You’ve got to finish these chores if you want to be able to properly focus on your studies. 

Unfortunately you think about Tasha’s texts until you crawl into bed. She was adamant that he was feeling you in at least one sense of the word. The idea makes your cheeks warm. Not much, since it would just be a delusion, but enough for you to recognize the familiar flush.

Next time you see him, you’ve got to block the messages out of your mind. Otherwise you’d make a fool out of yourself. He had a girlfriend, and you’d respect that.

Plus, he didn’t even know your name! How could he have any sort of feeling for you without knowing your name? You supposed it could be similar to how you’ve got a flutter in your chest when you see him, but that’d be dumb, men don’t think that way.

—

You’re hunched over your laptop, typing up a storm when you hear the bell jingle. It doesn’t stop you from typing, you’ve got a flow going and you wouldn’t stop it for the world. 

When your half-hearted greeting is replied to by a known voice you freeze. It’s brief, so you hope he doesn’t notice, but it still happens. Then you’re back to typing, throwing a ‘let me know if you need anything!’ in his general direction.

Truth be told, you were just typing mumbo-jumbo. Trying to manifest a proper thought that would never come. You wanted to look up. See if he had come by himself today, or if he had brought his girlfriend along. But curiosity killed the cat, and living in the fantasy that he could possibly like you, was far too nice to trade.

You switch from typing on your personal laptop, to typing on the shop’s pc. If you weren’t going to be productive with your essay, you could at least be productive by ordering some much needed stock. 

That’s the only reason you switched. Not because you wanted to take a look around the shop. Not because the flutter in your chest was still happening, minutes after just speaking to him. And most certainly not because you remembered, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You wanted it to be conspicuous. Nonchalant. Just a casual glance around the shop to make sure no one was stealing anything. 

However, a shout made you spring your head up. Staring directly at the man you're infatuated with, and his companion for the day. A tall man, with a graying beard.

He really has no shortage of friends. All different shapes and sizes too.

“Sorry!” He’s waving at you, an embarrassed look overtaking his features. 

Before you can tell him that there’s no need to apologize his friend is speaking, loudly, again “Why do you apologize? We do nothing wrong, nothing.”

“Because! It’s a bookshop, and it was quiet. Silent even! Before you shouted.” He’s whisper shouting, trying to make his point in the quietest way possible. 

Huffing out a laugh, you go back to your essay. Even with nobody else in the shop, this guy still has the manners to not want to mess up the vibe. Maybe he has a twin you could get with.

You barely hear from the two again until they're right up in front of you. Your ears pick up on ‘Alexi’ and ‘over there’, before you’re approached by ocean eyes himself. 

“Hi. Sorry again, about him.” It looks like he’s rocking on his feet a little bit, but you’re not tall enough to be sure. “ He - uh. He’s not the best in social settings.”

“Ah, I see. So. What’re you getting today?” Your hands are out, like a child waiting to accept a present.

He places ‘The Kill Order’ in your hands. “Newt died. You kinda gaslit me into believing he was a safe favorite character.” 

The way he says it is flat. It makes you worry a bit, and he’s looking at you straight faced like he’s really got a bone to pick. “My bad! He really was my favorite. Even though he kicked the bucket. I didn’t think you’d really pay more attention to him if I mentioned it.” 

You hope your apology is taken seriously. Your eyebrows are creased, eyes conveying your sincerness, at least you hope they are. But then he’s laughing. Why is he laughing?

“Sorry, I - I wasn’t serious. I did think he was a safe character to like but I thought it’d be funny to pull your leg a little.” Oh. Thank god he wasn’t really upset.

Then you’re laughing a little bit along with him, “You got me. I’ll give you that.” You scan the book, proceeding along with the same routine as always. This time you’re wrapping it in a deep burgundy packing paper, sticking it with a ‘Come again soon!’ sticker before handing it back. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He raises his eyes to meet yours when you start speaking, “but you read a lot.” 

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. It’s nice to be immersed in a different world sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Well it was nice to see you again…” You trail off, hoping he takes the hint and gives you his name.

“Oh - Bob, I-I’m Bob. What’s your name?” He’s back to avoiding eye contact. But he hasn’t moved away from the counter yet, so he can’t be that uncomfortable.

You give him your name, and he repeats it. Trying it out on his tongue, figuring out the syllables and the way to say them that makes them sound best. Then he’s leaving, well, more like getting dragged out. 

His huge friend has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and he’s walking with a purpose that Bob can’t resist. 

As they start to make their way down the street, Bob spares you a grin and a wave through the window. 

You wonder when he’ll finish that book. When he’ll be back and you’ll get to look into his eyes again. When you’ll get to dream about how soft his hair is.

As long as you’re on shift you couldn’t care less though.

—

This goes on for a few months. Bob comes in, always with a companion, picks out a book from a series you’ve recommended. The two of you crack a couple of jokes, or Bob asks you about your studies. And then he’s gone for a few days. 

Sometimes he doesn’t show up at all. Usually just for a few days, which wouldn’t be bad but it's abnormal for him. Once in a blue moon it's for a or over a week, he never explains, just apologizes.

His companions are always one of 6 people. They fluctuate, sometimes the same person joining him two times in a row, sometimes they rotate like a wheel and you don’t see the same person for a few weeks.

Then they stop coming. Well not entirely. But they stop coming inside. At first they just stand outside the shop, lingering just outside the door. 

Eventually they start to ‘drop’ Bob off. Walk with him till they get to the shop, the two of them exchange a few words, then Bob walks in, and his companion walks off. 

They make sure to pick him up after. It’s always on their time though. Bob will come in, pick out his book, check out, and then talk to you the rest of the time.

It’s all basic conversation, favorite colors, what drew you to get your degree, why you chose NYU over something closer to home, favorite ice cream flavor, what Florida was like. 

It seems silly to assume that he likes you. But it seems even sillier to assume that he doesn’t. No way would he waste all this time just to not care at all. 

He still asks Tasha about you when you’re not there. She thinks you two are a match made in heaven. Well as close to one as she can get without really knowing him. But he’s attractive, attracted to you, you say he's kind, so what’s not to like.

You see Bob and his female blonde companion, Yelena you think her name is, talking outside the shop. You can’t hear them, but you can see Bob wringing his fingers together and Yelena putting her hands on his shoulders, giving him a decent shake. 

Then it’s like something in Bob shifts, and he gains confidence. Looking into her eyes he smiles a bit, not too much, but enough for it to be noticeable. And he's turning around, and opening the door to the shop. 

“Good morning, how’s it going?” He’s smiling, looking directly at you.

You can tell he’s really taking you in. How you did your hair, the sweater that you’re wearing, maybe he even notices the mascara you put on just on the hope that you’d see him today. 

“Good, how’s it going with you?” 

He’s not moving from the counter, still studying you. “It’s good. Hopefully it’ll be better in a minute.” The look on your face, warm, comforting, understanding, interested, encourages him to continue. “I was hoping you’d maybe…” Bob has to take a breath to steady himself, “W-would you get coffee with me sometime?”

It takes you a few seconds to process. Bob wants to get coffee with you? Like as in a date? You’ve been dreaming about this for months. When you’re done thinking it through, the giddiness gets to you.

Beaming at him, “Of course. I would love to get coffee with you Bob.” 

“Really?” His mouth is gaping a little, like he really thought you’d reject him.

“Really. I’m not working on Thursday if that works for you?” You really hope that there aren’t hearts in your eyes. The blush on your cheeks is prominent, you can feel it, and it would be embarrassing if Bob didn’t have a matching one.

“Thursdays gre-perfect. It’s perfect.” 

You’re discussing which cafe to go to before you shoo Bob away to go pick out his book. God forbid Yelena comes back and he still hasn’t checked out.

There’s a pleasant warmth in your chest when he leaves. And you’re light, like every stress has been lifted away. Maybe it’s adrenaline from your crush being reciprocated, or maybe it’s the bloom of puppy love, either way it's welcomed.

—

When Thursday rolls around, you’re more energized than ever. Practically bouncing around your apartment as you get ready. Using the same body wash, and lotion so the scent really sticks.

Putting on makeup, not too much, but enough so that it enhances your face and gives you some extra ‘shine’.

You also make sure to dress comfortable, cute, but comfortable. You’ve only seen Bob outside of his sweaters a handful of times, and you doubt that a coffee shop date would be the spot he decides to bring out all the stops.

Wait. What if he doesn’t see this as a date. Maybe he just wanted to become friends with you outside your job. Wanted to add onto his never ending revolving companions to accompany him around on his errands. 

No. That’s not right. Bob wouldn’t do that, anyone would have to know that would be leading you on and he doesn’t have the hate in him to do that. No way.

When you get there, Bob’s already sitting down at a table. He’s people watching, looking out the window at all the unsuspecting people passing by.

His hair looks like he styled it instead of letting it do it’s own thing, and he's got a comfy crew-neck on. The slopes of his nose and lips and the way that his lashes lightly brush his cheekbones when he blinks. He’s beautiful like this, unfortunate that you have to break up his peace. 

You slide into the chair across from him, “Hey.”

He’s smiling at you, one of the biggest you’ve seen, “How was the walk?”

“Not bad, a little chilly but that’s nothing new.” 

“Well, let me get you a drink to warm up, yeah?”

You give him your order, and then he’s gone. Up at the counter in a flash, and seemingly back in even less time. 

Like a proper gentleman he hands you yours first. His hand was a little too big on the mug, leaving you no choice but to brush your fingers against his as you go to grip it. Believe it or not, it’s the first time you’ve touched. 

Suddenly, the world is being painted black. It’s creeping up all around you, spreading from where you stand, up the walls, to the ceiling. For a split second it’s just you in this neverending black box.

Then you’re in the backseat of your first ever car. “How the hell?” You’re looking around, trying to figure out how you could have possibly gotten here. You were just with Bob, at a cafe, on your first date.

Then you start murmuring. Not you you, but the younger you, the one sitting in the front seat. She’s talking about how tiring it is being perfect, doing everything that everyone ever asks, always being the one that people know they can rely on, or at the very least fall back on to talk shit about others to. And before you can even finish your rant your fathers screaming back at you. How he owns the house, he lives in the house, he bought your car, he provides everything and asks for so little back. 

You feel the tears before you recognize that you're crying. But you hear her sobs. The way her chest shakes with every breath, the way it's painful to inhale. How the hell did you get here, and why can’t you just get out?

The screaming doesn’t stop, it keeps going, getting progressively worse. You’re clearly ungrateful, and you need to remember your place. When you get your own place, then you can have the thoughts and feelings that you’re currently having. Until then suck it up.

You try to leave, opening the door of the car, but you can’t, you have too much respect for your father. 

The adult you is staring. This was the whole reason you left home after all. All the talk about having a place of your own, the arguments over the way you kept your room, or didn’t clean a specific area of the house. 

It ends with the sound of you sobbing still. Worse than before. Your airways are already compromised with the snot blocking it, and the way you’re trying to suppress the sobs is only making it worse. 

And then it’s melting away. In the same way that it started, but in reverse. The scene fades to black, the ceiling gets its color back first. The rest of the scene coming into view, Bob staring at you is the last thing you register. 

“I-i-i’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?” He’s worried, the stutter proving your thoughts. But how does he know something is wrong? You didn’t see anyone else in there with you, just your own personal hell.

“Did.. Did you do that?” You’re trying to piece together this puzzle. No way that you slice or dice it does it look good. 

His eyes are frantic, you think that’s what tipped you off, “I. I did. I didn’t mean to though! I promise it was an accident.” 

Then you’re pushing past him. Not slowing down as he calls after you. When you make it to the sidewalk, you book it.

What the hell?

What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with you?

How did he even do that?

Did he bring you out on a date just to humiliate you?

Maybe that’s what you deserve, his girl friends probably told him to do it. Even if you don’t understand how it worked, it would make sense; embarrass you to the point where you’d never bother him again.

—

You take the next week off of work. Any shift you can, you give to Tasha. The shifts that you do work, because you need money to live, are the afternoons. Just a few hours, essentially in and out.

As long as no one sells you out, Bob would never know and would never come during that time. 

You told Tasha that the date went bad, but that was all you had disclosed. You hoped she’d be kind enough not to meddle.

She did inform you that he came in often, almost everyday, looking for you. He’d asked when you’d be working next, Tasha told him it was illegal for her to tell him.

He’d left notes with Tasha, and she passed them along. Just for you to toss them in the bin. The one at work, so you wouldn’t be tempted to dig through the trash and see what he wrote.

He asked what you liked, if there was a gift card or book he could get you to apologize. Tasha told him to kick rocks. 

She did let you know that he looked awful. His hair was messy, tousled beyond its normal amount; like he spends all day running his hands through it. 

His eyes had bags under them. They were extremely sunken in, and had a purplish hue to them. His eyes themselves were red, sometimes puffy, most times half-lidded, like opening them took too much energy.

He was almost always sniffling. His nose red from irritation. You told her this had to have been allergies, Tasha insisted it was from crying.

And lastly, his hands. Always fidgeting. Picking at his nail beds, wringing around each other, or cracking his knuckles.

Bob looked worn down. His body, mind and soul. But what did Tasha want you to do about it, it’s not your fault.

—

It’s another week later when a blonde walks into the shop. 

You take a glance at the clock on your computer before speaking, “Hey, just wanted to let you know that we close in a half-an-hour. Take your time though.”

“I’m actually here for you.” 

That sends a chill down your spine. This is New York so it wouldn’t be completely unheard of to be taken hostage. But you haven’t done anything and you have essentially no value, so why are they here for you?

For the first time, you really look at the person in front of you. You know her. Not entirely sure from where, but she’s familiar in a way. 

You take the non-threatening approach, donning a soft smile before you speak, “Yeah of course. What can I do for you?” 

She’s staring at you, and you swear she hasn’t blinked once. It’s like she’s staring through your soul. 

“Bob told me that he sent you to a shame room.” 

“What?” Breath catching in your throat. You remember her now, Yelena. Bob’s most frequent companion. Maybe if you can keep your cool, you’ll get off easy.

“On your date. At the place that does the uhhh, latte art?” Yelena’s still holding eye contact. 

You’re really trying not to sweat, “Oh. Yeah, what about it?”

“You’ve been ignoring him since.” 

You can’t deny it. You literally switched shifts just so you wouldn’t have to see him. So you nod, hoping that suffices.

“He didn’t mean to. He can’t control it.”

What is she even talking about, “Sorry? Can’t control what?” 

“The shame room. Where you went when he touched you?” You hum a bit in response before she continues, “He can’t control that. He’s been good for months, so he thought he could get through a date, with you, safely.”

You don’t understand though. Why can’t he control that? Why can he do that, period. It’s not normal but Bob’s definitely not a superhero that you’ve seen on your TV before.

“Why.. Why can he do that?” If she’s gonna corner you here, you’re at least gonna ask some questions too.

“It’s a long story, not mine to tell. But I’m sure Bob would tell you. If you let him.” Then she’s turning, heading straight for the door. 

That’s it? 

That’s all she had to say?

What, was she trying to scare you into talking to him?

Your heart ached. You thought he liked you, thought he had maybe cared for you like you cared for him. And it’s okay if he didn’t but why did he have to make it the most painful way possible?

—

You don’t get much sleep that night. Tossing and turning as you replay the past few months in your head. Bob was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type to be malicious. Not the type to purposefully torture others. 

And you doubt he sent Yelena after you. She probably just saw him hurting and decided to step in. Completely understandable, and in its own way that hurt too.

It hurt because it meant that Bob was hurting. He missed you as much as you missed him. And he’s had much less context for why you’re avoiding him.

You decide you’ll go to the shop in the morning. Hang out with Tasha and maybe, if you’re lucky, run into Bob.

—

You manage to fall asleep, not for long but it's better than nothing. The anxiety you have is making you shake.

Whether it's your hands, your arms, or your legs, somethings been moving all morning.

To calm yourself, you take the long way. Make a stop at a cafe, getting Tasha a coffee as well since you’re an amazing coworker. 

When you come up on the bookshop, you can see Bob through the window. 

While you can’t see his face, you know he’s not 100%. 

His shoulders are slouching, caving in on himself it seems. He’s saying something to Tasha, trying to get her to accept another note by the looks of it. 

The jingle of the bell above the door makes both of them freeze. 

Tasha’s eyes widen, recognition that you’re finally facing the music flashing through them. And that must be what makes Bob turn around.

He turns slowly. Eyes slowly roaming over your body before finally landing on your face. His mouth falls open, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

Then his lower lip starts to wobble, tears gathering over his waterline making his eyes glassy, and he’s moving towards you.

Slow, unsure steps lead him to a few feet in front of you. His hands move over your shoulders, not daring to touch you, but hovering close enough for you to just barely feel their warmth. 

“I’m so,so,so, sorry. I’ve been working on it, and I just..” He swallows before continuing, not breaking eye contact, “I feel so calm. Like - like I’m at peace, when I’m around you, so I thought it wouldn’t happen. I thought I could break it to you slowly, a-after you accepted a second date.”

You’re just standing there. The damn coffee you got prevents you from wringing your hands, and it’s difficult to bounce your legs when standing. 

The urge to back away from him is strong. But you can tell he’s trying, you can tell that he wants you to believe him.

When Bob realizes you aren’t going to respond, he continues, “I thought it would be too heavy, you know? To tell you about all of this baggage that I have. Thought that if I told you, everything would change.” 

“A warning would have been nice.” You’re not looking at him anymore, instead staring at your shoes. It’s a shame you didn’t trip on your lace on the way here, then you wouldn’t have had to come.

“I know.” Bob sighs, “I know that now. And if I could go back, I would have told you. Warned you even if I ended up being the boy that cried wolf.”

You see his hands retract, no longer hovering over your shoulders. You don’t understand why he pulls his sleeves over his hands. But then he’s placing his, now covered, hands on your shoulders. The grip he has is strong, but not painful, “I need you to know. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Intentionally at least.” 

“So you’d do it unintentionally?” 

You’re being difficult. Intentionally. Mostly because he’s not making sense, what type of scumbag says he’d never hurt you intentionally. That’s like the bare minimum.

“There’s… A lot to explain. I’ll explain it all, if you’ll let me!” He’s leaning a bit now, bending at the knees to get a look into your eyes. 

When you do meet his eyes, you can see the sincerity. They haven’t stopped glistening, still shiny with unshed tears. But it looks like he wants you to look into his soul, to understand that from deep in his core he is apologetic. 

A scumbag wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t have covered their hands to prevent touching you. They wouldn’t have been trying so hard to get in contact with you. 

So you nod. 

You’ve agreed to meet him again. Not on a date, but for some answers. 

He wants to do it today.

You tell him that you need time. To process or prepare, you’re not sure. But you know you need time.

Your feelings about him haven’t had the proper time to dissipate, so a small part of you still hopes that everything could work out.

—

When you do come around and text Bob that you’re ready to talk. His response comes almost immediately.

You invite him to your apartment. It’s more intimate than you would like, however it would save you the embarrassment of how you would end up if he were to send you to a ‘shame room’ again.

When Bob gets there, he's nervous. Just a little twitchy, not too much but enough to be noticeable. 

He’s brought pastries. Something about his mother telling him to ‘never show up empty handed’ tumbles from his lips as he hands them to you.

You offer him a drink, like this is just going to be a fun catch up between pals. 

Not sure what to expect, you lead Bob to your dining room table. It’s a good space to have this conversation, not too comfortable like the couch, but not too formal like standing near the door.

“So -” You can barely get it out of your mouth before Bob starts spilling his life story to you.

He doesn’t go too deep into any one topic, but he makes sure that you can paint a clear picture in your mind.

He had a rough childhood, never close with either of his parents. That led him to drugs, which then ebbed into addiction. 

The addiction sent him all around the world, sometimes trying to get better, most times trying to find more, better, different drugs.

He ended up in Malaysia, they offered him a test run of some new drug. One that would make him ‘better’. 

Everyone could be better, him more than others. 

But then there's a blank slate in his memory. No recollection of what happened after they gave him the drug.

Until he ends up in some bunker with 3 of his 6 companions. They escaped together and have been working to make the world a ‘better place’.

“Wait. What do you mean you've been ‘working to make the world a better place’?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he went on his tangent, and Bob looks surprised that you had something to say.

“Well, they do. Not me, I focus on… Communications mostly. Because I don’t have a good enough grasp on my powers yet.” 

“And what exactly do they do?”

“It’s uh - Classified?” 

You scoff, “Classified..? What do you think you are? The Avengers?”

After you mutter your rhetorical question, Bob looks away.

“No way. You’re an Avenger?”

“Technically.” His heads down, leaving you to stare at his scalp instead of his eyes.

“And all the people you came into the shop with? They’re Avengers too?”

“Yeah. They’re more flashy. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t recognize them, to be honest.” He huffs out a laugh, seemingly glad that you’re actually taking part in the conversation now.

Your response is quiet, “It’s a psychological thing.”

Bob hums in response, urging you to continue.

“When you see someone, like a superhero, out of where your brain assumes they would be, most times you miss it. Some of your friends looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I saw them, until now.”

“That’s… Wow, I never knew that.” Bob’s looking at you with a bit of awe in his eyes.

But then he’s straight back to business.

He tells you about how before, his bad days were bad and he’d black out. But now after the treatment, another, worse side of him has awakened. 

That’s how he transported you into one of your worst memories. 

“At least one person from the team stayed with me, all the time. That’s how it was when I first met you.” Bob’s tapping his fingers against the table, in a slow rhythmic pattern, “But then I wanted to take you out. And who goes on a date with a chaperone when we’re adults, right?”

“Yeah, right.” You’re laughing at him, or maybe with him.

“So, I started working on containing my powers more. Working on making them my own, so that I could be by myself. M-more like so I could be alone with you.”

“Just with me?” 

He’s nodding, “Just with you. And it went really good! To the point where I could go out on all sorts of different errands by myself.”

His cup has started to sweat. All the condensation building up on it from being untouched this whole time. Because you care about your well loved table, you reach across and lift his cup before placing it on a coaster. It slows him down for a second before he can continue.

“It was the nerves. O-or at least I think it was the nerves. I don’t know for sure what causes it; nobody does.”

“So, you being nervous about being on a date made you send me to my own personal hell?”

“Being on a date, with you specifically, yes.”

The way he’s opened up to you has greatly increased your trust in him.

If everything he’s saying was true, he had a bad deal in life and he’s doing the best with what he’s got. The Bob you knew did have some confidence problems, taking a while to open up to you originally so it wouldn't be surprising that he would be nervous.

It also wouldn’t be surprising that him being nervous would send his powers out of wack. There’s been articles about it before, how super powered individuals don’t realize the way their emotions are affecting their powers before it’s too late.

And if he’s lying. You’d have to give him a shot for just how damn good of a lie it was. No one could lie that good without a purpose.

So you reach across the table, towards Bob’s fidgeting hand. His eyes aren’t looking up so you only know that he sees you when his fingers stop tapping.

“I want to try.” You gulp and take a steadying breath, “I’d like to try with you if I didn’t put you off too much.”

You’re not touching him. Even though you would be the one suffering, it only felt right for him to make the first move. Not wanting to overstep by triggering his powers again.

After a couple of seconds he still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t looked up at you, hasn’t grasped your hand, hasn’t even twitched his fingers.

Then, softly, like if he speaks too loud the room would crack around him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure.”

Slowly, his hand rises up to meet yours. When they connect nothing changes.

No black tendrils crawling up your walls, no darkness consuming you with no escape, no flashbacks to things you don’t want to remember.

The only thing you feel is the warmth from Bob’s hand. The calluses on his palm, small, but still present. You feel the tender way his thumb brushes over your knuckles. 

Once he realizes that nothing’s happening, he grips your hand tighter. It seems unconscious, the surprise from nothing bad happening overtaking him before he can stop it.

He’s beaming at you. A kiddish smile, one that allows all the joy to really shine through. 

You’re no better. Smiling so wide that if you didn’t stop, your cheeks would start to hurt.

Everyone has baggage, some of them more than others. But that doesn’t mean that anyone is undeserving. Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give someone a chance to prove that they can be more than their baggage. 

You wouldn’t deprive yourself of this opportunity. Wouldn’t be so unkind to deprive Bob of it either. So with the promise that he would be honest with you. That he would communicate to you, the good and the bad, no matter what. You and Bob start your relationship.

Moving over to the couch, finally able to be comfortable, instead of cordial. The two of you settle into a movie, sitting close. Close enough to touch, but not actually touching.

Until halfway through, when your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the blanket that you have resting on the back of the couch comes to rest over your laps.

Your curiosity over Bob may have ‘killed’ you, sending you into a week-long depression for many different reasons. Leading to you shutting out the world, not willing to accept the fact that you were wrong about him.

But the way that you’re feeling right now. Feeling Bob lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulders, letting your head fall onto his chest instead of his shoulder. Hearing his heart thumping in his chest, almost lulling you to sleep. 

You know that this is satisfaction. It’s bloomed deep in your chest, taking a permanent residence there. Deeply rooted like it's attached to every neuron in you. And you know that it’s brought you back.

likes/comments/reblogs give me buffs to my character (greatly appreciated <3)

[hanginginthevoid]

Say my Name and Everything Just Stops

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Summary: If Bob and you were only platonic, absolutely no other feelings… Then why do you feel sick to your stomach when he looks at her like that?

WC: 3.K

*Might have to remake this with more specifics to the song because I added the song after writing it because it lowkey fit the storyline a bit*

⸻

You weren’t sure when it happened.

One day, you were just another warm body at a mission briefing, nodding through tactical discussions, biting your tongue through Alexei’s grating pep talks and Valentia’s obligatory press training. You showed up, suited up, cleaned up, and tried not to get killed. That was the job. That was the team.

Then, somehow, somewhere along the line… you and Bob Reynolds got attached at the hip.

Not officially. Not romantically. Not even consciously, really. You didn’t talk about it. There were no glances across the room filled with meaning, no loaded conversations behind closed doors. It was never dramatic.

It was something quieter. Subtler. Like gravity.

If you were in the kitchen making coffee in the morning, hair tied back, hoodie halfway off your shoulder, still trying to blink the sleep from your eyes, Bob was always there, standing beside you like he’d been summoned. Making tea. Or at least pretending to. Half the time his mug stayed empty, forgotten on the counter while he hovered behind you, offering sugar before you even asked, or opening the fridge before you could.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t even particularly expressive. But he was there. His presence made the sterile, metal and glass Tower kitchen feel less like a military bunker and more like home. It was in the little things. The way he shifted when you reached past him. The way he knew how you liked your coffee and made sure no one else drank from your favorite mug. The way he stood just close enough that you could feel his heat at your back.

Game nights made it worse.

Or better, depending on who you asked.

Every week, like clockwork, someone would suggest it usually Alexei or Yelena, high on boredom and low on impulse control. Uno, Jenga, some Russian board game that none of you understood but that Alexei insisted was “better than Monopoly.”

No matter the game, no matter the teams, somehow you and Bob always ended up on the same side. It wasn’t on purpose. No one assigned you to him. It just… happened. You’d be sitting on opposite couches, and by the time the game began, you’d be side by side. Synced up. Aligned.

Charades became a blood sport. You and Bob didn’t even need words. One raised eyebrow from you, and he was guessing the entire plot of The Matrix. He mimed a single motion, and you blurted out Jaws before anyone else even understood it was a movie.

“I don’t even know how they’re communicating,” John muttered one night, tossing a card at Bucky. “They didn’t say a word. Are they cheating? They’re probably cheating.”

“Y/N and Bob have their own frequency,” Ava mumbled from the corner, arms folded but the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Then came the promo events.

Photoshoots. Talk shows. Those absurd staged press moments where Valentina shoved you all into matching black tactical gear and called it “branding.”

You and Bob migrated toward each other like it was coded into your DNA. Unconscious. Effortless.

Cameras flashed and you were already beside him your shoulder brushing his arm, his hand resting just near the small of your back, not touching, but almost. Always almost. And somehow, no matter how stiff or awkward he looked beside the rest of the team, when he stood next to you, Bob’s shoulders loosened just enough. His eyes softened. His lips curved, barely.

Protective. Steady. Yours.

That’s how it felt.

And still, you told yourself it wasn’t anything.

Just comfort. Just familiarity.

But at night when the compound dimmed, and the war room was dark, and the wind whispered against the windows you started to hear it.

The softest knock. A pause. Then the door creaking open.

He never needed to ask.

He stepped inside like he didn’t want to make a sound, curls still damp from a rushed shower, wearing the same old hoodie that hung loose on his tall frame. Sometimes he’d say your name like a question. Most nights, he just climbed into your bed with a sigh so deep it curled in your chest.

He never reached for you. Not at first.

He just drifted closer, closer until his forehead was resting on your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin, his body folding around you like ivy.

And you’d always find your fingers in his hair. Threading, soothing, grounding. Like they were meant to be there. Like you’d done it a thousand times.

He always fell asleep that way. The Sentry. The most powerful being on Earth. Curled up around you, clinging to the quiet, tucked in by your heartbeat.

And you thought you were subtle. You thought it was private.

You thought no one knew.

Until the night John Walker walked in.

You’d been half asleep, humming something soft while combing your fingers through Bob’s tangled curls. He was a deadweight against you, long limbs twisted around yours, chest rising in the steady rhythm of someone deep, deep asleep.

The door slammed open.

“Y/N! You gotta see the new tech—I finished the—”

He froze.

You cracked an eye open.

Bob didn’t even stir.

And John… just stood there, blinking. Processing. His mouth opened and closed twice before he backed out like he’d walked in on a hostage negotiation.

“…I’ll come back later,” he muttered, nearly tripping over your laundry basket on the way out.

That was the end of the secret.

The next morning at breakfast, the teasing came with knives.

Yelena leaned across the table with a smug little grin. “So… Bob. Y/N. How long has the co-sleeping initiative been active?”

You choked on your coffee. Nearly died.

Bob flushed so red his ears matched his hoodie.

Ava didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Please. We’ve all seen it. They’re like cats. Always draped over each other. It’s gross. It’s adorable. I hate it.”

“Just don’t bring it on the jet,” John muttered into his eggs. “Some of us like to fly without PDA-induced nausea.”

You didn’t answer. Neither did Bob.

You didn’t have to.

It wasn’t like that, you told yourself.

It was just Bob. It was just you.

But when your eyes met across the kitchen when his hand brushed yours reaching for the honey, and his fingertips lingered just a little longer than necessary, you wondered if maybe it wasn’t just anything.

Maybe it was everything.

And you’d just been too scared to name it.

⸻

Until the charity gala.

You’d pulled out all the stops.

The gown was custom silk that hugged every curve like it was made for you (because it was), with a low, sloping back that shimmered under the chandelier light like molten metal. The color was blood-red, deliberate. You wore it with graceful confidence . Your hair was swept into soft waves that kissed your collarbones. And your eyes, lined lit with something vulnerable and electric, scanned the ballroom for one person.

Bob Reynolds.

He arrived late.

Tugging awkwardly at the cuffs of a tailored suit that fit too well for how uncomfortable he looked in it. Hair combed, clean shaven, tall as hell and radiating nervous energy. You turned the moment he walked in.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw you.

And for the briefest second, everything else in the glittering, champagne soaked ballroom dimmed. His eyes locked on yours across the crowd and something passed between you. Something that hit you low in the chest, unspoken and sharp. You almost smiled.

But then he looked away.

Fast. Like it burned. And he didn’t approach. Not even close. In fact, every time you started to drift toward his side of the room, champagne in hand, casual and hopeful he moved. Ducking away under the guise of conversation or needing air. It was obvious. Painfully so. He was avoiding you.

By the time everyone was seated and smiling for cameras at the table, your chest ached from it.

Had you misunderstood everything?

The closeness, the late nights, the way he always reached for you without thinking, was that just friendship? Just comfort? Had you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole team?

And then came the woman.

An older socialite, jeweled and charming, grabbed Bob by the elbow with a too-knowing smile. She gestured to a girl in satin blue, pretty, long-limbed, her laugh high and flirtatious. Bob looked panicked for a split second. Then he smiled. Small. Polite. He let the woman lead him away.

From across the ballroom, you watched.

The girl touched his arm. He leaned in to hear her. Laughed at something she said. All the alcohol he downed making his eye contact extremely well, didn’t matter that he looked a little stiff. A little out of place. From where you were standing, it looked like he could love her.

And it broke you.

You didn’t say goodbye. Just slipped your clutch under your arm and moved. Valentina caught your elbow at the door.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even spoken to—”

“I don’t feel well,” you said, voice brittle.

“Y/N—”

But you were already gone.

⸻

The Tower was silent when you returned.

You didn’t turn on the lights. Didn’t go to your room. Just stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the roof like muscle memory.

The city stretched below you in a haze of gold and glass. Cold wind bit at your shoulders through the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care. You needed the air. The silence. The distance from the noise in your head.

Why had he avoided you? Did you look bad? Did he regret all those nights he spent in your bed not with you, but beside you? Holding onto you like you were his only anchor?

You blinked hard against the tears stinging your lashes.

Don’t cry. Don’t be stupid. You’re not sixteen.

The door creaked behind you.

You didn’t move. But your heart knew.

Bob.

He stepped out slow, breath ragged, suit jacket flapping slightly in the wind. His tie was crooked. His hair was messy. He looked like he’d been running.

“You left,” he said quietly, almost breathless.

“I did,” you murmured, arms crossed against the chill.

“I couldn’t find you.”

“I saw you,” you replied, voice sharper than you meant. “You were busy.”

A pause.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I’m not stupid,” you snapped. “She was gorgeous. Polished. Exactly the kind of girl a mother would want for her son-in-law.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I want.”

“No?” You turned now, eyes shining in the low rooftop light. “Because you looked like you were having a great time. Like you were relieved not to be around me.”

“I was avoiding you.”

That stopped you cold.

“I know.”

Bob took a step closer, then another. “You walked into that room and I forgot how to breathe. You were… radiant. Like something out of a dream I wasn’t supposed to be having. And all I could think was, Don’t ruin this. Don’t touch her. Don’t make it weird. So I panicked.”

You stared, wind whipping your hair around your face.

“You avoided me because I looked nice?”

“I avoided you,” he said, stepping right into your space, “because if I didn’t, I was going to tell you I loved you. In front of Valentina. And three senators. And six photographers.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He laughed, but it was soft. Raw.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N. I can’t think straight when you’re near me. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep unless I’m next to you. You touch me just, like, hand on my arm or fingers in my hair and the world goes quiet. You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

“Bob…” you whispered, tears threatening again.

He took your hands gently. “I don’t know when it happened. I just know I’m in love with you. And if I messed this up tonight… I’m sorry. But I had to tell you.”

You let out a laugh. Choked and wet and unbelieving.

“You idiot,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. “You beautiful, stupid, sweet idiot. I’ve been in love with you since the first time you handed me coffee without asking how I take it.”

His breath hitched. “You have?”

“Obviously.”

The kiss came easy.

Soft, like first light. Like every moment between you had been leading to this, every brush of hands, every shared blanket, every look across the table when no one else was watching. He cupped your face like it was sacred. You buried your hands in his curls like they belonged there. Because they did.

The city sparkled below. And in the quiet, with the wind, and the stars above, the noise finally stopped.

⸻

You woke up in his arms the next morning. Again.

Only this time, your lipstick was smudged on his jaw. His tie was still on your bedroom floor. And when Bucky walked in to grab the TV remote, he paused at the sight of you two curled up, a sleepy smile tugging at his mouth.

“About damn time,” he muttered, shutting the door again.

Neither of you moved.

You were too busy holding onto everything you’d been scared to lose.

—

A/N: PLEASE I NEED MORE IDEAS OR LIKE SONGS TO WRITE THINGS BASED OFF 💔

[hanginginthevoid]

Kiss Me Again : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Goddess!Reader

Summary: A crush isn't a problem, and when that crush becomes love, it's usually a good thing. For Bob, it terrifies him, because he'd managed to fall in love with a literal Goddess. Why would a Goddess choose a broken man like him?

Warnings: SO much fluff, shy Bob (I would be too), pining, age gap (inevitable when one of them is a literal Goddess), probably some very incorrect Norse Mythology but it's fanfiction people, SPOILERS kinda for Thunderbolts*, female reader description

Word Count: 4,727 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here A/N: this was an anon request and the second I read it I said "I must write this right now" and then I ran with it

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“So, Winter Soldier…when you say ‘otherworldly visitor’ do you actually mean ‘otherworldly’ or is she just very…you know…beautiful in that entrancing sort of-”

“Oh my god, Alexei, when he says ‘otherworldly,’ he does mean ‘otherworldly,’ why is that so hard to understand?”

Bob was nothing short of confused throughout the entire conversation playing out before them. Bucky had called a meeting of the entire group, stating an ‘emergency,’ and gathered them all in the meeting room that Valentina had designed for staging before missions. It wasn’t a room that Bob was in often, still yet to have gone on a mission with the team as he worked to find a way to use his powers without losing control of himself, but even being in there for less than 5 minutes, he could tell why his friends hated it so much.

The A/C in the conference room was terrible, and as someone who ran hot naturally because of the ‘medical trial,’ it wasn’t doing Bob any favors in the summer heat of New York City. The table was entirely too large for the small team, judging by the way that Bucky had to practically shout down the table to where Alexei sat at the head of it, claiming it was the best seat and the most important. All in all, Bob hated it, though there was a lot about the newly renovated tower that everyone hated, given it had all been Valentina’s design work.

“Look, can we forget about the ‘otherwordly’ comment for two seconds? If either of you says it again, I may just carve out my own eardrums,” Yelena made a show of holding her freshly sharpened knife to her ear, giving Ava and her father a blank look, before turning her attention back to Bucky. “Wherever she may or may not be from…why exactly have you invited some woman to the tower?”

“To train him,”

Bob’s head shot up when it got quiet in the room, realizing that Bucky’s finger was jabbed in his direction, and all eyes were on him. His own eyes went wide, and he himself thought they might fall out of his head, as he pointed at himself.

“T-train…me?”

“You said you were ready to begin learning to fight, that you had a pretty good grasp on the…other sides of you,” Bucky explained as Bob shifted uncomfortably at even the mention of the other parts of him he wished to keep locked away. “There are three super soldiers in this room, and we all got our asses handed to us by you months ago in this very tower. Trust me, if anyone can train you and keep up, it’s her.”

The team gave one another skeptical glances, turning to Bob who looked just as confused. Yelena hung her head, rubbing at the sockets of her eyes with the palms of her hands as she turned back to Bucky.

“And who in the hell could possibly be strong enough for that?”

“...the Goddess of Strategy-”

“EXCUSE ME?”

The room erupted into absolute chaos as Bucky uttered those three simple words, hanging his head with a groan that resounded through the room as the team yelled over one another, their words impossible to decipher.

Bob, on the other hand, was frozen. He’d kept himself entertained in the attic of his childhood home with many, many books on Norse Mythology stolen from the local library. He’d grown up reading the myths of Thor, Loki, and the likes, only to learn years later that those gods were, in fact, real.

Yeah, Bob knew exactly who you were. He couldn’t decide if the flush quickly crawling across his skin was due to the yelling in the room or because he’d harbored a crush on you, his favorite Avenger, since he was a literal child.

“If you think Valentina will allow this-”

“When have I ever cared what Val thinks-”

“Are we glossing over the Goddess aspect of this-?”

“Please, she could probably break little Bobby in half with a look-”

“FRIENDS, MY WONDERFUL TEAM, LOWER YOUR VOICES!” it was a very contradictory statement for Alexei to be shouting, standing on top of the rolling chair at the conference table, which the entire team was shocked wasn’t buckling under the pressure. It did the trick, though, the ceaseless arguing and shouting coming to an end as everyone looked to the older man expectantly. “I trust the Winter Soldier’s judgement, but this old Russian only has one question…who is this Goddess?”

These days, Yelena seemed to always be groaning around her father and anything he said, and this was no different. She muttered something in Russian under her breath, which most of the team by now had come to learn meant something along the lines of “shut him up before I do.” Bucky attempted to do just that.

“She’s-”

“Thor and Loki’s sister, daughter of Frigga and Odin. Goddess of Strategy, has a sword formed at Nidavellir that she’s- she’s kind of deadly with, but it’s really cool because it can summon the Bifrost. She was uh, trained in sorcery by Frigga, was an Avenger…” Bob hadn’t even realized that he’d gone on a tangent, interrupting Bucky and info-dumping everything he could about the myth that was you before his brain could stop him. He could see Yelena’s smile quirk up into a smirk as that red flush he’d already had deepened as he realized what he’d just done. “I just uh, I-I think I must’ve- I read that somewhere…once…a long time ago. A really-really long time ago.”

There was quiet in the room for a moment before Walker laughed, slamming his hand down on the table as he gestured between Bucky and Bob.

“Nice one, Barnes! Seems the student has a big ‘ole crush on the teacher you found for him!”

If the blush on his cheeks could get worse, it did. Bob avoided making eye contact with anyone at the table, gaze entirely focused on his hands as he wrung them together in his lap.

“Alright, lay off. Fact of the matter is, Bob needs a teacher that’s not easily breakable, and she’s the best of the best,” Bucky side-eyed Bob for a second, catching his eyes for just a brief moment. “I sent a message to New Asgard, they got it to her, and she said she’d do it. So bury your crushes, get your teasing out now, because she’s arriving tomorrow and I’d like if we could act like the Avengers and not the Avengerz for once. This woman did save the world…multiple times.”

Bob tried to do just that, he really did. There was endless teasing from John the rest of the day, and while Ava and Yelena didn’t directly contribute, they didn’t try to stop John’s comments either. Bob did his best to ignore them and brush them off, too busy giving himself a pep talk all day that he could do this. It was a harmless crush on a literal Goddess he’d had for years; it was nothing. He was an Avenger now, he could do this.

His pep talk had been great the night before. But it couldn’t prepare him for the moment you actually arrived at the tower in a stream of color.

The Bifrost was a sight in itself, but seeing it before your own eyes, as Ava muttered under her breath, was like its own separate wonder of the world.

The stream of colors dissipated before their eyes, leaving that same etched pattern it always did into the helicopter landing pad of the Tower they now called home. A conversation that it was decided Bucky would get to have with Valentina. When the colors were gone, you were left standing in the Bifrost’s place.

Bob hadn’t prepared himself for what it would be like to see you in person. Somehow, you were prettier than he even thought was possible.

The Asgardian armor you’d donned for years was still shiny, the light of the sun reflecting off of it. It was almost an exact copy of Thor’s own armor, though entirely blue and gold, billowing blue cape hanging from your shoulders, flowing in the wind of the city. Bob could see Styrkr, your sword, sheathed across your back, glinting in the sun as you stalked toward the group, a smirk that Bob thought could rival the sun itself on your lips.

You were beautiful. Gorgeous. Ethereal. There was no shortage of words that Bob could use to describe you in that moment as you stopped in front of Bucky.

“Well, Barnes…you look better than you did years ago, that’s for sure,”

Even your voice had the flutter in Bob’s stomach threatening to eat him alive from the inside out.

Bucky laughed, quickly pulling you into a hug that you eagerly reciprocated.

“I’d make a comment about how you haven’t aged a day, but I don’t think I need to point out the obvious,”

“Isn’t the longevity of Asgardians so fun?” you both shared another laugh, Bucky’s arm thrown over your shoulders as he seemed to give you an affectionate squeeze, a history of fighting and the semblance of a friendship clear between the pair of you. Your gaze drifted over the team beside him. “So…this is the New Avengers, huh? Still weird that you’re living in the tower I once called home.”

Bucky was quick to introduce the team to you. Yelena and Ava were nothing but respectful, while John still seemed to carry that ‘entitled arrogance’ as Ava typically called it in his greeting to you. Alexei had the entire team wishing that he just…knew how to be normal, for once. Loud, boisterous, but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless.

“I’ve got to say, you remind me a bit of Volstagg and Fandral if we mixed them into one person. I think you would’ve gotten along well with them,” the comment seemed to make Alexei surge with pride, even as he leaned over to his daughter and asked loudly ‘who the hell were those people.’ It was when your gaze finally made it to Bob that he felt his heart was going to stop. “So…that means you must be my indestructible, ‘power of a thousand exploding suns’ student.”

All eyes were on Bob in that moment, and he was struggling…hard. He tried to speak, to remind himself of his pep talk from last night and to portray confidence, but he was a stumbling mess of words.

“I uh, I’m-I’m Bob. That’s uh, that’s me…exploding suns and s-stuff. I’m the n-new student…yay. And I-I know who you are…b-big Norse Mythology fan…”

Bob could hear the snickers of his teammates, not entirely subtle about them, and could see the grimace on Bucky’s face. But not you.

Your smirk had softened into the sweetest smile. Your head had cocked to the side, eyes almost the tiniest bit brighter as they trailed his form up and down, and Bob could feel the sweat forming as he tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt, knowing you seemed to be assessing him.

“Bucky…you failed to warn me how cute my student was,” Bob’s breath had caught in his throat as you sent him a wink. “You know what they say…it’s always the quiet ones.”

You were going to be the death of him, Bob had decided in that moment.

You requested to spend that first day alone with Bob in the training room of the tower, gauging his comfort level in any form of fighting in the slightest. The team respected that, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t all found reasons to take turns walking past the training facilities in hopes of eavesdropping on conversations and catching glimpses of this training that they all thought was going to end terribly.

Bob’s eyes were locked on you as you removed the heavy armor plating you wore, laying it out on one of the benches until you were left in the form-fitting undershirt and pants that sat below your armor. Yeah, this was going to be absolute torture for him.

“Do you want to see it?”

Shaking himself out of the stupor that Bob seemed to put himself in, his eyes went wide as they focused back on your face. He was confused until he glanced at your hands, seeing that you were holding your sword, Strykr, out toward him.

“O-Oh! Oh uh, I don’t know-”

“She doesn’t bite,” you joked with a slight laugh, taking a step toward him and holding it out. “You said you liked Norse Mythology, so I figured you’d want to take a look at it before we get started.”

You were right, but Bob didn’t need to say that. With a shaky hand, he reached out and took the sword in his own hands, and he could almost feel the power flow through him just from holding it. 

It was heavy, but not too heavy, a strange lightweightedness to it while still feeling like it took godly strength to swing. He realized, holding it up close, that the sun glinting off of it wasn’t what he’d seen earlier on the helicopter pad. The sword itself had a faint glow to it, almost pulsing, a power he could only assume came from the fact that it was forged in the heart of a dying star.

“It’s beautiful…” Bob managed to say without stuttering through it, probably because he hadn’t taken his eyes off the sword as he adjusted his grip on the hilt. “It ’s-it’s almost like-”

He hadn’t realized how fast he’d swung it, unused to the lightweight feel of the sword that was, most definitely, heavier than it looked. Your hand caught the blade easily, not even flinching, as it swung toward you, simply eyeing him with a curious look and a genuine smile.

“Well…never seen that before,”

“I-I’m sorry!” Bob dropped the hilt immediately, sure his cheeks were going to be permanently flushed red after spending time with you. You’d only let out a light laugh, catching the hilt easily, swinging it quickly in your hand before placing it down next to your armor. “I didn’t mean to! It’s just so…it’s so l-light.”

“It’s actually not. For most normal people, even for super soldiers like Bucky, it’s quite heavy,” you replied with a smirk as you rose back up to your feet. “Guess that’s a better explanation for your strength level than the bullshit ‘power of a thousand exploding suns’ shit Valentina came up with.”

Bob laughed lightly, wringing his hands together as his eyes followed you. Taking your place across the sparring mat from him, ten feet between you both, you stood ready for a sparring session. Bob…he stood as if he was in fight or flight mode.

“So…uh, how d-do we do this?”

“Depends. Bucky says when it comes to training you…don’t have much,” Bob nodded at your comment, watching as you tilted your head curiously. “You want to take it slow, or you want me to throw you in the deep end?”

“Uh…w-what’s the deep end entail?”

Bob had barely finished his sentence when your hands flicked, tendrils of navy blue magic wrapping around his waist and tugging him across the mat in your direction. A gasp left Bob involuntarily at the motion as the magic dissipated, leaving him barely on his feet in front of you. A single swipe of your leg had him plummeting to the ground on his back, landing with an ‘oof’ as your foot came to rest on his chest, barely pressing him into the mat.

“Y-you…” Bob was speechless, staring wide-eyed up at you as you simply smirked down at him. “T-that’s cheating!”

“No, that’s called the deep end,” you laughed wholeheartedly, reaching down to take his hand and tug him back to his feet, and he knew you didn’t miss that now signature red flush on his cheeks. “And that is why we’re going to start slow.”

“...why’d y-you even offer the deep end, then?”

“Girl’s gotta have some fun from time to time. Come on, let’s start with basic stances,”

Those training sessions started as once a week, before quickly evolving into twice a week, and before the team knew it, you essentially lived in that tower once again, there all day, every day. None of them minded, loving the stories you’d tell them over dinners of your adventures with your brothers when you were young, of the pranks that Loki enjoyed playing on Thor but never played on you, and even stories of everything that had once happened in the very tower the team now called their home. The more you were around, though, the more the rest of the team managed to find a way to tease him relentlessly when you weren’t in the room over his ‘obvious’ little crush.

Those moments of domesticity around you were what Bob loved the most, especially when it somehow managed to just be the two of you.

For weeks, even when you began to visit more and more often, the pair of you sparred together for hours, and that was the end of it. Bob, though, remembered the day it changed like it was yesterday. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget it. The rest of the team had been sent out on a mission by Valentina, but you’d still promised you’d have your usual training session that day, even without them lurking around.

You’d thrown a punch that Bob managed to quickly dodge, even if he stumbled slightly on his feet afterward. Thinking of everything you’d been teaching him, Bob managed to steady himself, lock his feet into position, and throw a punch back at your ribcage. It connected, even though you hadn’t even flinched. You’d spun away from him, circling him with a smile on your face.

“Good! Next time, though, actually hit me,” Bob’s eyes widened, realizing what you were saying. You’d been trying to get him comfortable with his own super strength for weeks now, and that was the one thing he was still struggling with. “You have it, so use it. Don’t let it use you. Focus on it, channel it, and use it. You can do this, Bob. Don’t think, just do.”

Bob closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back on everything you’d been teaching him. Being the Sentry meant potentially letting that dark side of him overtake him, so he’d blocked off the Sentry. He’d blocked out his own powers, but he couldn’t. He had to accept that the Sentry and the Void were parts of him, and he didn’t need to be them in order to channel their strengths. He just had to be Bob, and when you were the one teaching him that, he seemed to understand it.

You charged forward, and he could see the magic encasing your fist as you threw a punch. Bob managed to duck, switching places with you. Your smirk quirked up as your leg came flying up at super speed. With a deep breath, Bob’s hand managed to catch it, not missing the way your eyebrows shot up. He threw your leg back to the ground, taking in a sharp breath as he thought about everything you’d taught him, and threw a punch toward your ribs, this time channeling the power surging through his veins that he tried so hard to block out in fear of losing control.

A gasp left your lips the second his fist connected, your body dropping to the ground as you fell on your knees, hand immediately holding onto your side. Any confidence surging through Bob in that moment dissipated in a second, and panic overtook him.

“O-Oh my god! I’m s-so sorry. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have done that, I-I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

You laughed, and that laugh was enough to stop Bob’s incessant rambling of apologies. His gaze met yours as you looked up at him, and there wasn’t a trace of malice in it. There was pride, and something else buried beneath it that had the constant fluttering of his heart beating erratically once again.

“That, Bob, was perfect. Now…you want to get dinner together?”

From that day on, many of those days in the tower didn’t even consist of training. 

You’d introduced Bob to the shawarma restaurant in downtown Tony had dragged you all to all those years ago, watching as Bob fell in love with the food. That became a typical Thursday outing for you both for lunch. In that time, simple walks around Central Park became more common than not. Bob enjoyed the peacefulness of the park, the contrast it had to the bustling city around it, and he found tranquility in walking through it. He didn’t leave the tower much, terrified of losing control, but when you were with him, he felt like he could do anything.

Moments in the tower with you were still his favorite. He could listen to you for hours on end, and he had, as you walked with him through the tower and told him stories upon stories from your years spent here with the people you’d called family for so long. There was a story for almost every room. And eventually, when those days turned into you crashing in one of the spare bedrooms Valentina had set up in the tower for the night, you’d both found yourself watching movies in the common room until the early hours of the morning before Bob’s insomnia would let him sleep, even if the others weren’t joining you.

The team had noticed. It was hard not to. The Bob they’d known, the one who often shied away from long conversations with them but could still throw out a snarky remark, had grown more comfortable. He’d left his shell, but only around you.

“Did you anticipate this?” Yelena questioned Bucky one day, who was comfortably sitting at the island counter of the tower’s kitchen. He’d followed her gaze to the common room, seeing you laughing on the couch at something Bob had said while yet another movie droned on in the background.

“To this extent? No,” Bucky shook his head, before glancing back at Yelena with a smug smirk. “But I hoped it might go this route. I’m taking credit for it.”

Yelena found herself watching you both again, and Bucky followed her gaze.

“Do you think she likes him…like that?”

The super soldier pondered it for a moment, but there was no mistaking it. Not with the way you smiled at Bob, no matter what he was saying, that glint in your eyes. He knew you well enough to know it was written clearly across your face.

“Yeah…she’s not very subtle. Then again, if you’ve met her brother, neither is he. She looks at him like Steve looked at Peggy, and that’s all I have to know,”

Bob was in deep, and he knew it. That crush he’d harbored was long gone.

He was in love, and god was it terrifying. To fall in love in general was a scary thing. Bob had lost enough in life; falling in love just meant there was another thing in his life he could lose. It complicates everything more when he’d gone and managed to fall in love with a literal Goddess.

It had been months of training, but something in the air this time was different. Bob couldn’t focus, couldn’t pull his eyes from you, and you seemed to know it. Every time you turned away, his eyes locked on you, but you always managed to glance back and catch him with a small smile.

His head felt fuzzy, that flutter still in his heart when he looked at you, and paired with that weightless feeling in his stomach, he knew being around you would never be easy again from this day forth. He was so mesmerized by the simple idea and sight of you he almost didn’t see your smirk as you entered fighting position, ready to spar again.

You were on him in seconds, this time with a knife in your hands. Both of you knew it couldn’t hurt him, but he also knew even if it could, you never would hurt him with it.

Bob sidestepped, but his mind was blank, the simple scent of your perfume sending him over the edge as he lost his entire train of thought. You’d taken advantage of the opportunity, knocking him down to his back on the ground.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to staddle him, knife pointed directly at his neck as you smirked down at him and the wonder written across his face.

“I win…”

Bob’s breath was caught in his throat, he didn’t know what to do. But you seemed to have him exactly where you wanted him. Your smirk shifted, a soft smile replacing it, as your hand rested gently on his chest, over the undershirt he wore to these sparring sessions. He knew you could finally feel the erratic beating of his heart reserved just for you.

“I’ve been teaching you for months now to fight. To be confident,” your voice came out in a whisper, and there was nothing for adoration laced through it. “I’ve spent enough time with you, Bob, I know you. So be confident…and tell me the truth about your racing heart.”

Maybe it was the way you always had a way of calming him, or maybe it was the training you’d been giving him for months, but something clicked in Bob. He sat up, leaning back on his hands until he was completely sitting straight up on the sparring mat, you still perched in his lap. A tentative hand came up to your waist, lying on it, and squeezing it gently. Your hands followed suit, running up his arms until they rested around his neck.

“You…” Bob tried to find the words, but his nerves were clear in his voice. “Y-you make me nervous.”

You hummed, hands finding the hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

“In a good way, or a bad way?”

“G-Good way,” he’d managed to get out, leaning is head back into your touch. “Good but…but scary.”

“Why?”

“B-because loving you means…I c-could lose you,” once the words started flowing out of him, they couldn’t stop. He’d held it inside for weeks now, and the weight on his shoulders was finally lifting off him with everything he said. “And I’ve lost enough. I…I don’t want to think a-about losing you, about you…not feeling the same way.”

You cocked your head at that, one hand trailing to his jaw as you caressed it beneath your fingers.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“B-because why would a Goddess…want a broken man like me?”

He could see it clearly, the sadness that seemed to flood your gaze at his words. You opened your mouth as if to speak again, before shutting it in a moment of contemplation.

Then, you’d surged forward and kissed him.

Bob’s heart could barely be contained in his ribcage the second your lips met his, and he pressed back with a surge of confidence that only you could give him. But it was a kiss that held so much more in it than what someone on the outside might see.

Your magic was woven into the kiss, into the feeling of your lips against his, and he could feel it. He could feel your emotions, your memories, flashing before him in every move of your lips against his. From the moment you’d stepped out of the Bifrost and looked at him, he could feel the twin flutter he’d had that had moved through you. The affection, the adoration, the love that poured off of you in every moment, from Central Park to movies on the common room couch.

Feelings that he believed could never be reciprocated, not for a man like him. Your magic-infused kiss told him the entire story of how you fell for him, just like he fell for you. There was no denying it.

Your lips parted from his, but they didn’t stray far. The space that hung between them was non-existent, and your lips brushed over his faintly with every word you spoke to him in a hush.

“Do you believe me now?”

“I…I don’t know. Y-you…you might need to kiss me again.”