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lemongirl5910 · 1 day ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚

❥ pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!vampire!Reader

❥ wc: 3,7k

❥ summary: Wednesday had taken the initiative to surprise you with an date evening together. You, however, were nowhere to be found, and the loss of your presence made Wednesday miss you threw a wrench into her carefully thought out plans. Unacceptable.

❥ warnings: terrible, entirely self-indulgent writing. lots of swapping between povs

❥ a/n: thank you to my wonderful beta readers! your efforts and input were much appreciated xx

It was late at night when you hauled yourself up your balcony and finally made it through your window. One glance at the grandfather clock read 1:46 am; okay, you thought, grimacing, so it’s early morning the next day, Saturday. Great.

Under normal circumstances, the halls would have been abuzz with secret parties and sleepovers to welcome the weekend, starting Friday night. Due to your busy exam week, even the few students who had the energy to celebrate on Friday were now in their rooms, trying to recuperate some of their lost sleep and accumulated exhaustion. It seemed you were the only one awake on school grounds now. You would’ve been more appreciative about this if you weren’t so worn out yourself.

Your shoes squelched with each step you took further into your bedroom, and the sensation of the cold water pooling in your soles made you cringe and shudder with discomfort.

A wide puddle from your jacket, heavy and drenched with rainwater, formed beneath you. You peeled it off, cursing it beneath your breath as you did, so much for a raincoat. You did nothing to protect me from the unforgiving elements. You tossed it through your bathroom door and into your bathtub to wring out later, revealing your equally soaked-through second layer. Being thoroughly wet from the rain made the ever-present coldness in your bones seep even more profound, almost freezing. Your bloodstained shirt, jeans, and, finally, your boots followed swiftly, hitting the tub with a booming thud.

Most of that outfit is ruined for good, you mused as you pulled a clean hoodie over your head, too exhausted to wash up properly, but that's a problem for future me.

For a moment, you considered your reflection in the mirror. The only light in your room was that of the moon, illuminating the centre of your chambers with its phantasmal glow. Beyond the centre, however, pitch black consumed the room. Shadows cast by the furniture stretched and bent around you in strange shapes, enveloping you with their cold and unforgiving embrace.

You sighed quietly, the serenity of the night like the comfort of a dear friend, and some of the tension you amassed from the day lifted from your shoulders.

Despite the darkness, the dried blood on your hands and the specks on your face were visible to you. With your hunger sated, the smell of the blood was no longer appetising. Instead, something in the pit of your stomach churned, disgust curling your lips as you scraped the crust off your knuckles.

“Welcome home.”

You heard the voice before you saw the person, which was especially impressive when considering your perfect vision in total darkness and inhuman auditory capabilities. The magnitude of this accomplishment ended as soon as you considered who the culprit was. If any human could sneak up on a vampire, it would be her.

An unnatural warmth bloomed from the cavity in your chest at the thought, something akin to pride, spreading like wildfire to your extremities.

The figure shifted from the farthest corner of your room, rising from the leather chair behind your desk. It took shape as it moved through the shadows slowly and deliberately. The form that stood before you had the appearance of the most darling earthly creature in all the realms—your ultimate weakness. If you had a heart, it would have leapt straight out of your chest and into Wednesday’s hands.

Oh, how you’d missed those reproachful eyes.

“Well, hello.” You greeted them with disgraceful breathiness and glimmering eyes, “My beloved blood drop, you should be in bed.”

If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under already. As Wednesday stared you down, the thought that she would not entirely be against driving a stake through your heart crossed your mind. Again. It was undoubtedly her go-to threat for swift correction, and she always kept hers on hand. So cute.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Wednesday said tersely, ignoring how your stupid nickname caused a hitch in her breath. You did not react. Wise. “You missed classes today. Where were you?”

“Hunting,” was the only reply you could muster as you gazed upon her with that sickeningly tender look.

Wednesday’s hands clenched into fists at her side, nostrils flaring almost unnoticeably. That’s it? That’s all you had to say?

Wednesday couldn’t quite describe the wretched emotions that drove her to madness throughout the day; too many had happened too fast for her, but she cut you an affronted glare all the same. At the end of the day, the fact was that you’d thrown her wildly off balance with your sudden shift in routine. You forced her to notice your absence. But worst of all, you made her feel and weren’t there to help her deal with those strange and overwhelming emotions.

Now, she was standing before you, and those unbearable feelings continued.

That was simply unacceptable.

“You…” Wednesday stopped and pursed her lips, her gaze sliding from your eyes to roam across your face. She’d spent the better part of the night sitting alone in the shadows of your room, going over all the creative ways to make you regret abandoning her for a whole day with those idiots you called friends. Still, she had failed to mull over how to ask her interrogative questions without sounding so damn needy. You didn’t deserve to hear how desperate she was to see you.

Not yet, anyway.

“You failed to notify me of your absence today,” she gritted between clenched teeth. Her eyes, black as obsidian, bore into yours unflinchingly through her lashes. “I-You were supposed to be there, yet you left me alone with all of them.”

There was an edge of irritability to Wednesday’s tone, which became even more apparent by her rigid stance and the unusually rapid drum of her heart. Still, something was just under the surface that you couldn’t quite place. Her brows met with the tiniest crinkle, her lips set straight. She tilted her head the slightest bit, chin angled up—her eyes a raging fire.

That atrocious flip-flopping in your belly returned with the vengeance of a dozen bats wreaking havoc in your rib cage.

“I know.” You eventually acknowledged her words with an apologetic smile. You dared to rub circles over her crossed arms with a feather-light touch. Thankfully, she didn’t attempt to hack off your hand (this time). The lack of Wednesday in your day and the space between you was abysmal and all-consuming and had obviously taken its toll on you. You needed to feel Wednesday’s warmth against you or feared you might disintegrate right where you stood.

“I didn’t anticipate needing to go hunting today,” you continued, filing those alarming desires away for inspection later. “It just… happened. I had that ravenous hunger when I awoke; the blood bags did nothing to satiate it. I needed to feed from something raw and unprocessed as soon as possible.” Your fang caught on your lip, brows furrowed.

A hungry vampire loose at a school would have been catastrophic. No matter how annoying, those students were your friends, not food. Even worse was the possibility that you could have hurt Wednesday. You shivered; the idea that you were merely one wrong decision away from being responsible for something so horrific froze you from the inside out with a bitter coldness not even death could match.

As you explained, Wednesday took an imperceptible step closer, pressing more of herself into the weight of your hand as her eyes studied you again from head to toe. She was undeniably seething, but her eyes had softened. She knew the exact moment it happened because the emotions that had driven her for most of the day, which were as robust and tumultuous as the ocean, gave way to an equally strong sense of unease.

Wednesday’s brain computed your unspoken concern. She hated how fast she deflated at the flash of fear that crossed your eyes. You were never easily frightened, less so than herself, so seeing that agitation on your face made the pit of her stomach heavy with lead.

Wednesday’s hand shot out to fist the front of your shirt, effectively breaking you out of that train wreck of a notion before you could truly get lost going down that path. She yanked you down close enough that your noses brushed, with so much force you would have knocked into her if it weren’t for your vampiric reflexes. She ignored your small huff of complaint and cupped your jaw sternly, thumb stroking the dried flecks of blood from your cheeks with uncharacteristic care.

A stray thought wandered into Wednesday’s mind as she regarded you, something wholly distracting involving the sight of you with the blood of your prey still on your body and the elongated fangs still peeking out between your teeth, further proof of your successful kill and your capabilities as a top predator. She forced the thought away with a slight shake of her head.

“You should have told me.” Wednesday’s palm flattened over your cheek, her eyes glinting. Her voice had lost its edge as she closed the space between your bodies, stressing, “I would have helped.”

You shook your head immediately, pulling a frown from Wednesday’s lips.

“I know,” you murmured, pulling her hand from your cheek to lace your fingers through hers. You delivered a kiss to the slender fingers, and the tender gesture pulled an involuntary shiver from Wednesday, her traitorous body spiking with heat that crawled up her neck. “I know you would have helped if I’d told you, Wednesday, but I couldn’t risk hurting you. I was out of control. Seeing you before I fed was absolutely out of the question.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched. She felt like she was five seconds away from stomping her foot.

Your decision was level-headed, and your actions had been driven by reason. You’d done what was safest for the school and, most importantly, Wednesday. However, you had ripped out the part of herself that she’d carefully hidden away behind the safety of a concrete tower reinforced with steel and forced her to face you—to face the feelings for you that had taken root in her heart and continuously grew like a parasitic infection; that part of her still held your decision against you because you left her for a whole day.

Not for the first time, Wednesday had to acknowledge that she was well and indeed done for. You’d spoiled her rotten, and now she couldn’t even bear the thought of being without you for one day without wanting to rain retribution down upon you. It-no, she was pathetic.

Wednesday breathed in deeply through her nose, eyes fluttering closed. “I understand,” she said tightly, “I just—” the rest of her words lodged pathetically in her throat, growing thorns that prickled her skin. She didn’t speak again, though. She swallowed hard, brows furrowing with annoyance as her eyes roved across your face wantonly.

“I know,” you spoke for the two of you, and your eyes conveyed your understanding. You reached out to bring Wednesday close, guiding her into your space by her hand. “I missed you dearly, my blood drop.”

Wednesday stiffened for a moment, out of a lifelong habit more than anything, before slackening. She wrapped her arms around your middle and burrowed her face into you, her cold nose finding home in the cool flesh of your neck. Instantly, the raging sea of emotions in her chest quelled, tempered by your soothing embrace. With the familiarity of your scent, the noise in her mind quieted.

“I would never leave without telling you first unless the situation was dire. You know that, right?” Your words were muffled, spoken into Wednesday’s temple, but she heard them clearly.

Wednesday nodded slightly and sighed. Of course, she knew that. Hearing you say it to her was reassuring in a way she couldn’t verbalise, but she was glad you understood that about her; she was glad for you.

“No matter what, I’ll always come back to you. I promise.” You ended your promise with a chaste kiss on her forehead, the freckled space between her brows.

Wednesday abhorred how effortlessly, thoughtlessly, she leaned into your lips, chasing more of your affections. Her fingers dug into your sides, lashes fluttering shut as she mumbled, “I know.”

“I’m still sorry I left you,” you carried on, an edge of mirth in your tone. “I can’t imagine how dreadfully joyous your day without me was.”

“You should be.” Wednesday sneered, but there was no weight to her words. She couldn’t make herself fake it through her unsuccessful attempt to crawl into your hoodie. “Enid tried to make me smile.”

“How dare she!” you responded with appropriate appallment.

“She almost managed to when she tripped over Thing.” Wednesday sighed, giving up for the time being. You weren’t particularly helpful in her endeavour, but she swore she would be back in her rightful place nestled on your chest for bedtime. “It was awful.”

“Ghastly. Would you like me to maim them for you?” you asked as you wrapped your arms around her again.

Wednesday was glad for the protection of your chest. She couldn’t hide the smile that curled her lips at your earnest offer. She weighed her options carefully.

“Not unless you can do that without leaving again.”

“A later time then,” you said. “Just say when, and I’ll be on them like a vulture on a carcass.”

For a while, you stood in the middle of your room, underneath the moonlight, with Wednesday tucked securely into your chest. You swayed gently from side to side, making a thick fog roll over the edges of Wednesday’s mind, your steadying breaths against her cheek lulling her deeper and deeper into an enticing abyss.

As you moved, you faintly hummed an eerie and reposeful melody, your mind fuzzy with contentment. You periodically nuzzled your cold nose into Wednesday, breathing her in with an animalistic instinct until you had her scent committed on a cellular level. The specific flutter of her heart and draw of her breath was ingrained into you already; you could pick her out of a crowd of a thousand blood bags by that alone, but you never tired of feeling her heartbeat, hearing her breaths, and smelling the scent that was unmistakably hers—all signs of her liveliness and health.

You were making gentle circles over Wednesday’s back when suddenly, you stiffened. “Wait a minute,” you muttered, breaking the silence.

Wednesday lazily opened her eyes to peer at you. She hummed in askance, an adorably feline noise, and blinked blearily, big eyes glossy with sleep.

“You're wearing your outdoor clothes.” You pulled back, creating a space between your bodies, much to Wednesday’s chagrin, and assessed her outfit thoroughly. She was bewitching, as per usual, but she was dressed in her ‘investigation’ outfit, something practical but wholly uncomfortable. You arched a brow. “What were you doing in my room when I came in? Did you stay up… waiting for me to come back?”

Wednesday’s face turned passive at your question, eyes sliding away from yours to tack onto something beyond you on your desk—Oh, look. That’s where she left her stake. No wonder her pockets felt so light.

Truthfully, she’d forgotten about this part of her day after you delved into your explanation for your absence. It took her a long minute to answer, but the sweet smile on your lips never faltered.

“After classes,” she began, pursing her lips in the way that made her dimples visible for a fraction of a second, “I thought you’d be back by then. The weather forecast for tonight was prime for a night out. Cold rain and thick fog.”

Wednesday paused as you stroked your thumb over the crease that had formed between her brows, loosening the tightness in her face. She could feel the intensity of your gaze on her. She had your undivided attention. She bit her bottom lip, forcing her eyes to meet yours, and let herself freefall into the sentiments that the utter devotion in your eyes conveyed.

“After this week of exams, I believed you might fancy spending the night together in private. I thought you might appreciate it even more if it came unexpectedly.”

Wednesday would never know how the countenance of a creature as impure as you could regard her with such affection and devotion. All she knew was that her parents would be beside themselves with pride and joy at what she’d found here at Nevermore. She’d never live down the humiliation of eating her own words. Damn you.

“A date.” Came your breathless whisper, eyes widening. Wednesday could practically see the moment the stake of realisation pierced through your undead heart. “W-Wednesday,” you murmured, voice cracking, “What did you have planned?”

“Grave digging,” she muttered, ears growing hot.

“Grave digging—your favourite. You wanted to do it together?” your grip on Wednesday tightened so much it was almost painful. She welcomed the ache. It gave her something other than the downright devastation in your eyes to focus on. Wednesday returned her head to your neck and nodded.

The blood you’d consumed earlier bubbled up your oesophagus. You weren't there when Wednesday wanted to take you on a surprise date—the first she’d ever planned for you. The stake twisted deeper, cutting through you like a serrated knife. Your eyes gleamed with something Wednesday hated to see.

Vampires weren’t supposed to be able to do that. Right?

Still, something about your reaction warmed Wednesday from the inside out, and she scoffed to hide the slight sound of amusement that threatened to leave her lips. You were as theatrical as you were romantic. You were such an Addams.

“Wednesday,” you croaked ruefully, “I’m so sorry. I would’ve never missed out on such an important—”

Wednesday cut you off with a finger to your lips. “I know.”

“I’m here now,” you continued, kissing her finger as you spoke. Your eyes were pleading. “Would you still like to go? We can leave right now if you wish. Just say the words.”

Wednesday sighed, curling a hand around the back of your neck to mash your lips together, effectively silencing you. “Shut up,” she muttered darkly against your lips. “You’re rambling.”

“M’kay,” you said weakly.

Wednesday’s hand released you, but neither of you moved to separate. She smoothed her hands over your shoulders, mapping out the powerful muscles underneath your annoyingly enticing skin.

“No,” she said, the shake of her head making her bangs bounce. “Grave digging can wait. I want to be here,” she stabbed her pointer finger into your chest. “Where I belong.”

“In my… heart? You already stole it,” came your cheeky reply.

Wednesday rolled her eyes, unable to hide the pleased curl of her lips. She didn’t bother reminding you that you didn’t have a heart, a beating one, anyway, and pressed on, braver now that you’d made a fool of yourself more than she ever could.

“In your bed, in your arms, on your chest.” Wednesday purposely enunciated every word with another forceful poke of your chest, her gaze assured.

“Oh… Well, aren’t you a demanding little thing?” you chuckled and took Wednesday’s hand in yours.

“I could kill you.”

“I know.” Your eyes had that soft look again, and your smile was delicate. It was, dare she say, adorable the way your fangs poked into your lips. “You don’t need to keep wooing me. I’m already yours.”

“An Addams never stops,” Wednesday quipped, brushing past you. She shed her jacket and toed off her boots, leaving them folded on a chair by your desk as she made for your closet with the air of a girl who was right at home. “Get used to it.”

As Wednesday rummaged through your wardrobe, you sat on the edge of your bed with a lovesick grin. Wednesday had such a way of livening up your room that it no longer felt like your home without her. You lived here, and you had for years; the objects in this room were all yours, from the enormous canopy bed to your clothes and books and the tiniest miscellaneous trinkets adorning your shelves. Yet, everything here undoubtedly belonged to Wednesday—everything, including you.

Wednesday knew that. It was evident how she moved throughout your room like she owned the place. You were more than satisfied with this.

Seeing her reemerge in your sleep clothes to take a seat at your vanity table made the ghost of something warm and heavy, a heart, or maybe a soul? Thump swiftly against your ribcage, sending an electric shock through your veins. You appeared behind Wednesday in a flash and stilled one of her hands from their work of undoing her ties. You fingered the end of a braid and met her curious eyes through the mirror with a hesitant smile.

“May I help?” you asked with unexpected shyness.

Wednesday froze, evidently taken aback by your question, but nodded, the corner of her lips curling up the slightest bit. Your touch was featherlight as you removed the bands securing her hair, each touch purposeful and gentle. She nearly closed her eyes as your fingers nimbly undid her braids before raking through her scalp with the brush to loosen the waves. She did several times briefly, but she couldn’t bear missing the way you so delicately touched her. It had been long since anyone else had handled Wednesday’s hair. She nearly purred. Shameful.

“Breathtaking,” you whispered, awed at the sight of the raven hair cascading down Wednesday’s back in silken, inky waves. You kissed the top of Wednesday’s head, cold hands cradling her jaw reverently. Wednesday shivered. She angled her chin high, a hand coming behind your head to pull you into a kiss. “Bedtime now?”

This time, Wednesday had nothing to say, but she clung to your neck and let you pick her up.

Once you were both finally in bed, Wednesday wasted no time burying into you, just as she had promised. Wednesday released a deep breath as her eyelids grew heavy and her limbs relaxed. Your cold lips were pressed against her forehead, and your fingers carded gently through her hair. Your touch was cold like ice and gentle as death's embrace, more soothing and comfortable than any morgue she could ever sneak into. She fell asleep promptly with a final murmur of your name and admission of affection on her lips.

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lemongirl5910 · 17 days ago

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NOT SO SECRET - Robert Reynolds

Summary: on the bus to work, you're bored of the same old day on repeat. Bob, also on the bus, finds you listening to his favorite artist- after that fateful day, his teammates are realizing something is off about him, and soon they'll start to find out exactly why.

Bob being head over heels for you ends up with the thunderbolts slowly finding out he's talking to you (cute guy on the bus trope)

warnings: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, mention of anxiety/nerves, being claustrophobic(?), sprinkle of angst while readers yearning for love, thunderbolts adventure of finding out bobs down bad, silly team shenanigans, eventual relationship (mention) - more focused on them finding out, more to come?

w/c: 3,2k | ao3 link | prompt event!

The bus was more packed than it usually was on a Tuesday morning- and for a trip to work, it wasn't very pleasant to experience. Luckily, you had found a completely empty seat before it got overly uncomfortable with lousy space and loud voices.

Ones that ran all the way to the back and spared no mercy. The clutter of people urged you to your phone, cranking your volume up way too many notches it wasn't normal, so much so that maybe your ears would go out first instead of all the damn people.

You felt like you were being swallowed- so you averted your sight to the window and hummed along in a peace that said you were in your head and content while it drove along.

Except for when someone had finally decided to sit beside you. At first you left it alone, just continuing on with staring out at the continuous road. But soon you got curious.

You opted for a side-glance, catching golden-brown locks that cascaded nearly off his shoulder, by a warm toned crewneck that spoke a sunlight brittled brown.

With a slight blush to your cheeks, you held yourself back from truly burning his image into your mind, too set on not gaining any more delusions for the month.

It didn't help being in an office 24/7 and having hardly any free time to get yourself out and around other people, so it had been a couple of rough weeks, and ones where, surely, you didn't need to get caught up in your mind now. It was simply playing tricks on you.

You weren't looking for love. No.. definitely not. But you saw it. Everywhere. Every corner. When a coworker spilled coffee on another and they both ended up with smiles and laughter while parting away together.

In the couple's walking down the street that held hands like nothing else in the world mattered. The ones that ate together in the cute little cafes down the street.

Okay, maybe, just maybe, the silence was getting to you. The desire. The want. The need for another.

Just something, something- a speck of love in your otherwise boring day-to-day. Someone who'd support you the way you dream about supporting them. A morning conversation that ends up with the two of you cuddled up in warm blankets draped in the early morning sun while a breeze swept you over-

Not now you'd scream internally. Whenever the notion got out of hand. Whenever the thoughts got too serious. Too overwhelming. Overtaking.

You suddenly shook back to reality- a ride to work, you sighed.

But as the ride kept on, you saw him fidgeting both in his seat and with the tote in his hands, making you anxious with the gesture.

His leg bounced up and down like yours usually did when everything became too much. His hands splayed out now played seemingly innocently with the strap. But you knew what the little signs meant- knew them too well.

Followed by a sudden tap to your shoulder, you were finally met with blue, almost glassy-looking eyes staring back at you with his finger pointed up to his ear

"sorry- uhm, your- your headphones were playing and I couldn't help but listen. Not bad or- or anything, just knew em- I like them too." With a small, awkward smile on his face.

"you know their new album already?" You questioned, but not with a judgey tone.

You looked at him with wide, shocked eyes in surprise.

What made his heart flutter was the way you asked him so innocently- like you didn't doubt him, truly were just interest in how far his taste went for the artist.

"j-just listened to it this morning, hah."

He continued, flowing easily into back-and-forth conversation with a guy you had just somehow stumbled upon on the bus. Well- technically, he stumbled upon you.

The two of you had talked and talked for the entire ride- a couple short sentences had turned into unsuspected minutes, on and on about music and your likes and opinions, the way he hated the people who never got up for the elderly you witnessed and how you couldn't stand the looks of people who stared at you like you were brainless at work.

soon, you realized the packed bus ride wasn't so bad at all..

By the end of it, succumbing to bus times and almost passing you stop dangerously close, he had offered his phone number. Were you dreaming again?

Not in a way with anything implied- you could tell wholeheartedly what his intentions were. But you held his hands so softly- whispered his name so kindly. And when you gave his phone back, he could still smell your perfume lingering near him as you waved a goodbye before getting off.

Was it just him or was the bus really, really hot all of a sudden?

•

It started with a ping. He got your message immediately, saying, "Hey guy with the best taste on the bus" and blushed while his fingers twitched in agony of what to say next.

But eventually, the constant texting started. The easy back-and-forth again.

His mind had flooded itself with you since then- drawn back between the interaction, how you both were so interested and how you spoke so avidly and excitedly about the artist.

Even giggling to himself at times that had Ava staring with her jaw cranked the slightest bit open in horror that Bob Reynolds was here, in her presence, laughing and shying away at his phone like he was 15 again.

She didn't tease him yet- no, she waited. She wanted to see exactly when the others would catch on to his weird antics and new smitten behaviours that she recognized instantly with a keen eye, and much too many high pitched giggles for her liking of daily laughs she'd consume.

Everything about his attitude and way he carried himself had been consumed by you-

And soon they came.

First, you'd think it'd be Yelena, but she's so distracted by making fun of John that Bucky squashes the opportunity first.

The day started out normal. He woke up early, and changed into somewhat comfortable gym clothes gifted to him by val- though only the shorts were used.

He came to the kitchen for his usual tea and toast with the strawberry jam he adored- smothering a little too much it overloaded the pieces and was licking it off his lips about fifty times before it was actually off.

After that, usually he'd read- but he was too busy looking at the photo of you you'd sent after your shower while getting dressed for work with the caption, "can't wait to talk to you later, my favorite spark" and a winky face that made his knees buckle pathetically. He'd been so caught up in adjusting his sweatpants and texting you back that he'd lost track of time to even pick the volume up.

In the training room, Bucky's holding a punching bag for him as Yelena complains with a pointed finger to John's "weirdly angled and oblique form that quite frankly, shouldn't exist". Bob's interested in the punching bag, yes. But he's more interested in the buzzing vibration of his pocket that captures his attention immediately away from red knuckles and tight drawn lips to a boyish smirk Bucky could recognize anywhere. Too familiar. Too soft.

He's in a trance- so withdrawn from his surroundings, he only hears Bucky on the second mention of his name as he's looking out from behind the bag with peaked brows in both suspicion, yet ultimately knowing as Bob rubs the back of his neck awkwardly with a even worse laugh to pair.

"S-sorry! Phone- distracted- y'know, my generation stuff, heh!" He cringes at that internally.

"Mm." He gruffs back at first before Bob resumes his heavy punches. First in silence, he's huffing out, although pondering in long daydreams away from the tower and about how you asked him what his favorite color of crewneck is, and whether he likes strawberry jam off the floor because you failed your 'amazingly done' croissant creation that was meant to be a surprise with whipped cream on top, except for when it all fell off your table when you whipped around it to quick at the sound of the tv-

"What's her name?" Bob stalls.

Frozen. In time.

"H-her.. what?"

He points half-hazardly at Bob's phone

"Her name." Deadpan, Bob's in serious shock, now whipping his head around the room and letting out a breathe he didn't know he was holding when he realized Yelenas now splayed on the mat with Walker as she ever-so-subtly chokes him out as an excuse for better 'oxygen withholding training'

"how'd you even-?"

"tell-tale signs. Your ears got red, and your eyes scanned the text three more times after the initial read. Your heart skipped a beat. Should watch out for that."

He said it so seriously Bob didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Bucky only shrugged in return, " I was trained for these things"

And when Bob walks out of the gym, out of breath and aching for a cold bottle of water, Ava's already beaten him to it as he pauses to stare up at her, sighing dramatically as she grins slyly at him.

The second is very obviously Yelena.

This day has also been spent very normal to his routine- his teammates have gone on their missions, while he's sat back doing the little house chores all around.

Except instead of being lonely while doing them, this time around he's got you on facetime.

You're watching as he dances around with a broom and pretends to sing the lyrics as you snort out when he almost slips and eats shit on the slippery floor while asking if he's alright.

You're watching as he tells you about his day and how his training was exponentially boring. Mundane. Even teasing whilst saying you would've been there to make it a lot more interesting, which makes you blush more than you'd like to admit- even though he can clearly see it through the screen.

He admits one of his teammates had caught on already- but you only smile. He was so obviously over the moon for you, even the people living with him on the daily could tell? Of course they could. And that made your heart run its course just a little faster.

Soon daytime had dimmed, leaving him to greeting the team when they finally made it back.

Some sweaty. Some bloodstained and bruised. Cut in places not even he could see with fabric torn around the edges. Knowing glimpses exchanged at the way their posture slackened when they got back inside, smiles fading to ones that spoke of hardcore exhaustion.

Yet they kept the tradition- every Friday was to end with a movie night. Filled with food and snacks and drinks that happen to be the day they use the excuse to go all out.

They pick a movie based on the old school name out of a bowl. Although it commences arguments every single time, it just has to happen that way, or it's not the same.

The problem is, he's spent way too many trips back and forth to the kitchen getting the littlest things.

Someone needs a refill? He's squirming to get out of his seat to get it for them.

More popcorn? He's launching out of the couch cushions and reaching over piles of legs to snatch the bowl and microwave another.

More chips and candy? This man almost flies his way back over there with the way he's rushing himself up.

Then there's the bathroom trips. They're only 26 minutes in and he's mumbling how he needs to go.

She swears she sees a little light blaring from his sweats the next time he comments on being way too hydrated for "someone who's immune to bullets" as he excitedly walks down the dark halls.

The third time he's announcing himself, Yelena excuses herself too, just to follow him in the shadows.

And to say the least, he's none the wiser.

His phone illuminates him very properly in the consuming moonlight, propping his back up against a random walk and leaning there. His fingers work fast on the keyboard, letting out little huffs of breath and muttering different phrases to himself in the moment.

So caught up with you and your little dad-jokes and funny little cats you send him on Instagram when you're doing your daily scroll before bed, maybe it's because he misses you so much but he swears he's feeling you near his shoulder-

That is until he realizes there is, Infact, a proper and real presence, and it's definitely not yours.

He jumps with a loud yelp, but her palm is sternly going over his mouth as she spares a glance toward his screen and her eyes scan it up and down.

She gives him a look before huffing in disappointment while tapping her shoe like a mom who caught her kid sneaking back in after a party.

"Well, well, well. What am I gonna do with you, Bob. Or should I say Robert." He shivers as the hairs on his neck raise and his shoulders tense up for the worst.

"Texting a girl at this time and not giving her the attention she needs? Tsk tsk. Do better." She seems hesitant to stop there, but turns around anyways, retreating back to the team and their random 2000s romcoms and bad action-dramas.

He jumps and yells out again when he turns around, unguarded, to be met with Ava staring back at him, arms crossed and a genuine smile painted over her features for the first time in who-knows-when.

"Amazing. 10/10. Enjoyed my show. Thank you"

The third one to catch on is Walker. Alexei- well. He finds out when he sees it with his own eyes.

John notices the inconsistency of normality in his routine. He knows how it goes every morning. Coffee- Bob's on the beanbag reading a book while staring off with his tea into the sunrise. But today..

Where the fuck is Bob? And nicely enough, he's always setting out Walker's coffee. But not this morning.

He's wondering just where the random quiet and clacking of his mug being sat down back on the side table went, and where sudden silence began.

Usually when he gets back after a mission, when he's retreating from his room to get something to snack on, there will always, always be music coming from Bob's room. Sometimes recognizable. Sometimes outright weird and wacky and too new for his taste.

But now?

John doesn't hear the random 80s music Bob will play when he's tired after a long day, or just wanting to relax with the sound of something in the background. Doesn't hear the sulky and heartbreaky Bruno Mars or other love songs and Fleetwood Mac echoing against the walls way too loudly that may add to his headache but he pretends it doesn't. Doesn't hear the pop music when he's being experimental.

Hell, he hasn't heard it in a week.

So he knocks.

Twice.

Three times.

And on the fourth, he enters to an empty room that looks weirdly put together than usual, except for the hoodie that looked swiftly thrown onto the pile of pillows that made up his halfly-done bed.

So he waits. On the lounge-room couch. Scrolling through random channels that make him sigh out in boredom and has him weighing out his patience levels. Then he's scrolling on his phone- what the fuck? labewbew?

Jesus Christ he's really losing it.

He goes to the weapon artillery and cleans his guns. But he stops after each item he cleans, hoping to hear footsteps or the familiar ding of the elevator chime.

And by the time Bob is finally seen back at the tower, it's late and John's day had been wasted waiting around for his silence-filler of a partner in crime.

Bob found his glare when he walked out of the elevator. When Walker didn't avert it nor look away, he then pointed a finger to himself, wondering, me?

"yes, you. Where have you been all day?" Passive-aggressively, he points, judges, and questions like police wondering about a potential perpetrator.

"i-uh? Just.. out?" Was he the dad who caught him sneaking back in now?

"No shit" the blonde spits, overlooking the obvious tote that's way too heavy for a book or two. But perfectly sized for a teddy bear. And chocolates. And a book full of love letters. And a commemoration of a second date and a successful asking to-be-girlfriend event.

Bob's jittery- was jittery with nerves and excitement and a new significant other. Now..

"Im, uh- off to my room Walker. You should get to bed?" He doesn't know how to phrase his words without getting Walker riled up. His mind is too drawn away with other things, John draws it up to him simply not caring. How ungrateful-

Squinting at Bob as he walks away, he realizes that whatever he had with him had dropped in the hallway, leading an 'unsuspecting' trail in his wake.

A rose petal.

Then two. And three. And a couple more after that had dropped.

A rose petal?

A rose petal.

Rose?

Rose petal?

A fucking rose petal.

How dull was he getting.

Incompetent and stupid, lord he was losing his spark. "Jesus Christ" he muttered while spinning on his heel, holding his head in his hands while running them up and down his face in frustration.

Ava stood behind the counter muffling a laugh while seeing the gears turn in that soldier, lackluster romance brain of his.

As the days passed, the tower had become surprisingly dimmed with accusatory looks. Movie nights no longer consisted of side eyes and long glares of suspicion while squinting in his direction. It all just became fact.

A silent knowing. An agreement. Present of the fact, but never even whispering a word in the compound.

That was until the elevator chimed. None of them batted an eye, thinking it was just Bob coming back from the store, or grabbing a book.

Instead, left in awe, you stood behind him, sunk back and presented in a way that screamed shy and nervous and anxious all in one package, of course you were, to meet a damn group of superheros labeled The New Avengers.

You'd come out of your shell soon, but being met by the many eyes of them all didn't help the big fact you were probably red, flushed and shaking incredibly loud and obnoxiously in front of his friends. Teammates.

Holy fuck.

But before you could absolutely lose your shit, his hand slid coyly around your back. You looked up at him, to be met with a dumb, lovesick smile plastered on his face that immediately transferred to yours- contagious and ever so cute, you huffed a laugh and sighed in content as he rubbed your back re-affirmingly.

You waved and managed to get out a more-so quiet "Hi" At them.

They waved back-

Then suddenly, Alexei's voice boomed through the tower.

"Bob! Who is this- you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!

The one thing you repeated in your mind was, if Bob was Bob, then the rest won't be too far off either. And so when you laughed, they did too.

Bob held you closer to his side, hand tightening around your waist in a silent claim, that spoke out to you more than words did-

If I love you, so will they.

thank you for reading :) requests are open! || Marvel Masterlist

#bob reynolds imagines #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds

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