morpheusbaby3

[morpheusbaby3]

might as well post this now

[morpheusbaby3]

evil hayfever

pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x fem civilian gf!reader synopsis: when Bob comes home from a mission covered in pollen and racked with fever, you try to take care of him as best you can. content: mdni!! 18+. established relationship, porn with (a little) plot, sex pollen trope, bob is hella greedy in this one, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, bob makes reader squirt, mutual masturbation, unprotected pinv (wrap before you tap folks), cowgirl, doggy, mating press, hair pulling, a little biting, scratching, dry humping, bob is a yapper word count: 7.6k notes: hi y'all this is my first time writing a reader insert, and also my first time writing smut. I just needed to put Bob in a situation so bad I didn't even finish building my blog smh. I tried to keep reader descriptions minimal, but I hope y'all enjoy!! Likes and reblogs are obviously appreciated and also feedback is always welcome :) Enjoy!!

You’re halfway through a rigorous deep clean of the kitchen when the front door slams open.

“Bob?”

“Expecting anyone else?”

“Be nicer to my door, dummy,” you say. You pause your wiping to go out and greet him, but before you can get too close you hear him yelling.

“Stop! Don’t come near me yet, okay I’m not sure I’m safe so just… stay there.”

He rounds the corner, and the sight of him is enough to make you laugh out loud. He’s covered head to toe in a fine yellow powder. You can barely make out the blue of his Sentry suit beneath the substance.

“Mission was a bust then?”

He grimaces, then shrugs.

“What was the mission anyways, or is that classified.” You know it doesn’t matter because you’ll find out anyway, whether it’s from him, or Yelena or (god forbid) Alexei once he’s three fruity cocktails in.

“Illegal lab, synthesising hormones so they could test them on people, see if they could control the types of powers they gave them.”

“So I guess you got into a fight with a plant and got your ass handed to you,” you say, the corners of your mouth pulling into a grin when he fixes you with a glare.

“I didn’t get my ass handed to me. I’m an environmentalist I don’t fight plants.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his weak excuse, and you just hum instead.

“So why are you tracking evil pollen all over my freshly vacuumed carpet instead of the beautiful tiles of Avengers Tower?”

You take a step towards him and you see his fingers twitch at his side, before he takes a careful step back. There’s a blank look in his eyes, like his mind’s gone foggy, but it’s gone in a blink.

“Don’t know. Just felt like I had to.”

“You okay? I was joking about the evil pollen, but you’re not having any side effects right? Do you know what the plant was meant to do?”

He just shakes his head, more pollen falling around him. “Unidentified. I feel fine, nose is a bit stuffy maybe. Evil hayfever. Not sure why I came here though, maybe I missed you too much.”

He says the last part softly and it pulls at something in your chest. You sigh. The rest of your housework will have to get done tomorrow, or whenever Bob goes back to the Tower.

“How about you get showered and I rustle up some dinner and we can watch a movie, yeah,” you say turning around. You miss the way he stares at you, eyes dragging down your body and landing on your ass. You miss the way his jaw clenches and he has to rub at his face to snap himself out of it. When you turn back around he looks dazed and when he looks back up at you he’s blinking rapidly.

“Bob, honey. Shower. No evil pollen on my couch okay?”

There’s a light chuckle and you’re not sure he can actually hear you, but before you can repeat yourself he’s trudging off towards the bathroom. There’s something mechanical about the way he walks, as if he’s on autopilot, but you decide not to push it. Instead you get your vacuum and work on cleaning up the spots where the pollen has fallen off his body.

You aren’t sure how long he’s in the shower for, but you manage to get the kitchen clean while he’s gone, all promises of dinner forgotten when you open your fridge and realise you have nothing in there. You’re leaning against the counter with aching muscles and the persistent smell of bleach wafting off of you when you feel strong arms around your waist.

“So pretty,” Bob mumbles into your hair, arms strong around you, pulling you flush to his chest.

“Jesus. Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Sorry, just look so pretty right now,” he’s still mumbling into your hair, pushing you further into the counter. His hands are sliding under your shirt, thumbs pressing into the flesh underneath your ribs.

You snort, trying to pry his arms from around your waist. He doesn’t budge, but he does let you turn around and look up at him.

Your heart falters for a minute when you see him. Freshly showered, hair still damp, being swallowed up by the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever seen and some grey sweats, he looks every bit like your boyfriend and nothing like Valentina’s Golden Guardian. He’s looking down at you, eyes still slightly unfocused, but he’s smiling.

“I smell like bleach and I’m in the rattiest clothes I own. I’m pretty sure I have grease from the oven on my cheeks. You’re nuts. Are you feeling better though?”

He leans down, pressing his nose to your hair.

“Smell fine to me, look great. I’m in the kitchen with my hot girlfriend, I’m great.”

His voice is low, almost dangerous. You put your hands on his chest, pushing him away slightly so you can look at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His eyes still look far away, and it feels like his grip is tightening with every passing second.

“Head feels a bit funny, hazy. Still fine though.”

“Maybe you really do have evil hayfever,” you laugh, poking him in the stomach. You’re always surprised by how solid he is under his sweaters. You let your hand rest on his abs as you look into his eyes.

His lips twitch.

“Beautiful and funny.”

He ducks down, nose brushing yours and his lips ghost over yours, his eyes fluttering closed, but you push his chest a little harder. You must catch him off-guard because he stumbles backwards a little, his arms loosening enough for you to duck underneath. He furrows his brow, fingers toying with the ends of his sleeves.

“I thought you said dinner after I shower,” he pouts, taking a step towards you arms reaching out automatically.

“Bad news. Nothing in my fridge, and now I need to shower. I’ll be quick okay, how about you use that sweet sweet Avengers money to get us some cheap takeout, and then you can touch and kiss me all you want, okay?”

You see his jaw tense, but for the first time tonight you think you see his eyes focus.

“What do you mean you have nothing in your fridge?”

He’s pushing past you before you can explain, opening your fridge. You see his shoulder drop in a sigh.

“I get paid in a couple days,” you say sheepishly. He turns around, hand on his hips.

“Next time tell me, so I can use my sweet sweet Avengers money to buy you real food. Take your time in the shower I’ll go out and get some food for us. I need the air anyways,” he mumbles.

“You don’t need to, just DoorDash some pizza. Or does the Sentry only eat woowoo health foods?”

You cock an eyebrow at him. He fixes you with an unimpressed stare, but your smart mouth seems to be forgotten as his eyes drag down your body, a full sweep at first and then stopping where your shirt has slid down over your shoulder exposing a bit of your collarbone. His gaze lingers. The air in the kitchen shifts and you find yourself squirming a little bit. You can see his jaw working; tensing and untensing. You stand there in silence pinned under his gaze before he snaps out of it.

“I need the walk,” he says. His voice sounds strained and he breezes past you like he can’t get out of the kitchen fast enough, the lingering scent of his shower gel being the only reminder that he was there at all.

By the time he gets back you’ve managed to shower, and get a decent way into a new book. You almost consider checking if he is coming back when you hear your front door opening, and the smell of pizza wafting in.

“You could have just DoorDashed!”

“DoorDash has shitty pizza. I brought you good pizza, because I love you and don’t want you filling your body up with Domino’s bullshit.”

You hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, and then he’s in the living room, placing the pizza on the coffee table with some glasses and a bottle of soda. He does this without looking at you once and when he finally turns you hear him inhale. Deep. Slow. Pained.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry?”

He motions to you with his eyes, and that faraway look is back. You watch as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth, eyes locked on where the birthmark on your thigh is peeking out from the hem of his shirt. “Any shorts on underneath that?”

You shake your head, closing your book.

“Fuck. Honey, you can’t do that. I can’t focus.”

“What is with you. It’s a shirt,” you snort. You reach over to open the pizza box, and you hear Bob inhale as the shirt rides up slightly. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s clenching his jaw.

“It’s not me, it’s you. You look so good today. I don’t… I don’t understand it’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

You can’t help preening a little at the compliment, smiling to yourself as you pull a slice of pizza from the box, almost moaning as you take the first bite.

“Did the evil pollen give you CTE? I look the same as I always do,” you say around a mouth full of pizza. You’re looking at him now and he looks… frazzled, jaw clenching and his hands gripping his hair.

“No you- you’ve done something, baby. You look different, I don’t know.”

He’s still running his hands through his hair when he moves to sit next to you on the couch. “You just look so fucking beautiful right now.”

“Oh I must be a complete uggo every other day then,” you tease as you lean over for another slice of pizza. You hear him exhale, and then feel him move next to you, inching closer, hand resting on your thigh. His hand is hot enough to make you ignore the way something stirs deep within you. You abandon your pizza, leaning over to place a hand on his forehead instead, basically climbing into his lap in the process. You try to ignore the way his hand creeps under the shirt, gently cupping the bottom of your ass.

“Jesus, babe. Are you sure you’re okay? I think you have a fever.”

He uses his other hand to grab the hand you have on his forehead, giving it a kiss.

“Can’t get sick. Sentry Serum,” he mumbles into your wrist. When he pulls your hand away from his lips, it’s to place a soft kiss at the base of your throat. You sigh, pizza forgotten as his other hand moves underneath your (his) shirt. It roams over your stomach, ghosts over your breast and then settles on your ass with his other hand. He’s squeezing a little harder now as his kisses grow hungrier. He nips at the skin of your neck, groaning as he does and it takes everything in you not to give in as you push his shoulders into the back of the couch.

“I need you to listen to me.”

“I am,” he insists, still trying to get at your neck.

“Properly honey. Please.”

He sighs, leaning back to look at you. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes have darkened.

“I think you have a fever okay.”

“It’s fine. Sentry Serum will deal with it,” he’s leaning in again, and his hands move to the back of your thighs pulling you flush against him. “So beautiful,” he murmurs into your neck. “So so beautiful, baby.”

You grab his face — one last attempt at getting him to really listen to you, and you swear your heart’s going to give out when he looks up at you, eyes pleading, pupils blown out. You put a hand to his cheek and lean your forehead against his and try really hard to ignore how his hands knead the flesh of your thighs.

“Honey, you can’t ‘Sentry Serum’ your way out of everything.” He opens his mouth to argue, but it dies in his throat when you raise an eyebrow at him. “You have a fever, Bob. I don’t want you to overexert yourself. Valentina would kill me anyways.”

“I’d never let Valentina touch you,” he says, ignoring everything else. “I’ll always keep you safe, angel.” He shifts as he says this, making you sit down properly in his lap, pressing his nose against yours. Feeling him underneath you, so solid and broad makes your brain short circuit for a moment. That’s all the opening he needs, he leans forward and slots his mouth over yours, soft at first then hungrier and harder. His grip on you tightens and you know he’s going to leave bruises. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“And what about the other thing.”

“Won’t overexert, I promise. Please, honey,” he pleads. His hands move from your thighs to your hips and he grinds you down into him. “We’ll just do this okay. Just this, nothin’ else, I promise sweet girl.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah,”

“Pinky promise me,” you say, peeling your hands away from his face to interlock your pinkies.

“Pinky promise, now come here,” he says, pulling your face to his. When your lips connect this time there’s no softness. He’s practically devouring you, teeth pulling at your bottom lip. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know where to land. One moment, they’re kneading your thighs, the next your breast, the next cupping your ass. All through this he’s rutting up into you, and you can’t help but whine when you feel how hard he is in his sweats. He pulls away abruptly when you do, breathing heavy.

“Don’t do that.”

“Huh?” You breathe, confused.

“Don’t make that sound. You’re driving me insane. You’re tryna kill me.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, latching on to the spot where your neck meets your jaw and sucking hard. You buck your hips into him and you have to bite your lip hard to stop from whining again when you feel the hard length of him against you. When you slip your hands under his shirt he pulls away like he’s been burned. He pulls you off his lap, putting you back on the couch, then he’s standing, arms in front of him. He has a frenzied look in his eye, and his lips are plump from kissing.

“Honey,” you stand, meaning to go to him.

“Stay over there.” His voice comes out firm and commanding and it roots you to the spot where you stand. “I think I need to leave. You can’t touch me, honey. I’ll explode.”

“Do you mean literally, or…” you look down, eyeing the very obvious and probably painful hard on he has.

“Literally. Or both. I don’t know. Just stay over there while I figure this out okay,” he pleads with you, hands over his face.

“Figure what out?”

“I wanna fuck you angel.”

“Sounds like you have it figured out then?”

You start moving towards him again. “Is this because you pinky promised me earlier?”

He moves back, skittish, eyes looking you up and down frantically.

“No this is different. I feel like I can’t control myself. I feel like I’m gonna hurt you, okay. Stay there,” he grits out when you keep moving towards him.

You put your hands up in surrender throwing yourself back on the couch.

“One moment you’re all over me, the next you’re telling me I can’t touch you because you wanna fuck me? Am I missing something?”

“You don’t get it. When you touched me just then… I wanted to tear your panties off.”

“You’ve done that before.”

“Okay well I wanted to pin you down and fuck you into the couch.”

“Done that too,” you point out, ignoring the way you have to clench your thighs together when he says it.

“Different. Like skip all the other stuff just straight to fucking you. I need to feel you around me so bad I’m scared I won’t be able to control myself. I don’t wanna make you feel good. I wanna make me feel good,” he admits and it’s like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. This is new. Bob had always prioritised your pleasure and comfort over his even if it meant he had to finish himself off. So to hear him admit that he wants to use you? It’s new. It’s refreshing. It’s so fucking hot.

“So then come over here and do it.”

Now it’s his turn to get frustrated because you’re not listening. “You don’t get it. I wanna fuck you until you can’t feel your legs. ‘Til you forget everything but what it feels like to be wrapped around me. Maybe even more than that. You’ll be so sore honey, I’m not doing that to you.” Your thighs clench again and you know he notices because the lights above you flicker.

“Bob-”

“No. It’s not happening.”

“I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

“Not the way I wanna do it.”

You stop talking, opting to slip your fingers into the waistband of your (ruined) underwear and slide it down your legs. You ball it up and toss it to him. You watch in awe as he brings it up to his nose almost like it’s muscle memory and takes a deep whiff, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch one of his hands disappear down the front of his sweats, and you watch as he palms himself, pushing your underwear against his nose so hard you think he’s gonna hurt himself. You watch as he works himself faster, brows furrowed as he struggles to keep his eyes open, still looking at you in his shirt. Knowing you really have nothing on underneath seems to spur him on and you watch his sweats move as he keeps going. He’s panting, trying his hardest to stop his desperate little moans from escaping. You have to physically keep yourself from moaning when he holds them between his teeth, freeing up his other hand so he can push his sweats down just enough so he can pull out his aching cock. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at the sight. You can feel your skin getting hotter and your breathing picking up as he pulls it out almost clumsily. He looks like he’s so hard it hurts, tip red and leaking. You feel yourself practically drooling when he uses his free had to smear his precum all over it and then start bucking into his fist, desperate. You move on autopilot really, when you bring your ring and middle finger to your mouth and suck on them. His eyes are still locked on yours and it makes you feel so shy, but so desperate. Your thighs are clenched together but you release your fingers with a popping sound and drag your hand down your body, settling it right between them. The lights flicker above you as he opens his mouth to speak, your panties falling to the floor.

“Spread ‘em pretty girl,” he manages to choke out, still bucking desperately into his fist. “C’mon, lovely lemme see. It’s- it’s gonna help me. Please, baby,” he moans desperately.

You don’t make him beg. Still holding eye contact you spread your thighs. You can’t help but giggle when you hear him let out a low whistle.

“So wet f’me honey. Go on.” He’s pleading. His hips never stop moving and you’re seriously scared he’s gonna hurt himself with the way he tugs at his cock. You circle your clit with your fingers, nearly twitching without how sensitive you are and when you slide your fingers down down your slit. Bob is panting in front of you, sweat matting his bangs down. He’s still struggling to keep his eyes open.

“C’mon gorgeous. You’re so wet, bet you’ll slide right in huh. That’s all for me?”

You don’t know why he asks, the answer’s always yes. And he’s right. When you push against your entrance, there’s basically no resistance. It almost shocks you how easily they push in. You get to work immediately, pumping your fingers at first and when that does little to sooth the ache deep inside you, you start curling them, trying to reach that spot inside you that will really have you seeing stars. You’re grinding the heel of your hand into your clit and you’re getting so close. You dig your toes into the fabric of the couch as you ride your own hand, desperately chasing your own release. You can’t stop the little whines that escape from your mouth.

“There you go sweet girl, you’re so close, I can see it. Show me you can do it, please, baby. C’mon honey let go,” Bob grits out. You feel your eyes flutter shut as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens and tightens some more and just when you feel like you can’t get anymore wound up you feel it snap, suddenly and hard. You feel like you’ve had the air knocked out of you, and you have to slow your hand down. You open your eyes as the pleasure subsides, just to come face to face with Bob looking more pained than ever.

“Sweetheart, it’s not working. I’m trying so hard, baby it’s not enough.”

“So come over here then,” you manage to eke out.

There’s no argument this time. He steps out of his sweatpants and walks over to you. When he gets to you it’s like his eyes are glued to the spot where your fingers disappear into your pussy, glistening like they’re mocking him. Gently, he pulls your fingers out, running them over his cock first, then he puts them in his mouth. You clench around nothing as his tongue run over them, and he hollows his cheeks. His hips buck when you moan, and you feel his tip brush up against your hole, making you jolt away from him a little bit. His grip is firm as he pulls your fingers out and leans his forehead against yours. His eyes have gone a stormy shade of blue, and he holds your gaze a little before he peels them back down your body to your hole, fluttering and spasming around nothing.He drags you up from the couch, swapping your positions so that he’s the one sitting. He puts his hand around the back of your thigh, pulling you to him, manhandling you into straddling him.

“Go slow, but fuck, you need to make it quick. Can’t take much more.” His hands are on your hips, string but steady. You tease him a little more, running the head up and down your slit.

“I’m getting mixed messages, baby.”

“Please don’t play with me right now, honey. Not got much restraint left.” He squeezes your hip as he says this. Truth be told you don’t have much left in you either, so before he can ask you again, you sink down in one swift motion, your pelvis meeting his. It’s a stretch. You can never forget how much of him there is, but every single time you guys have sex the stretch feels brand new. There’s no longer that sting, but it’s still a tight fit. You rest your forehead against his, but he doesn’t give you a single moment to recover. You feel him shift underneath you as he plants his feet on the ground. And then he’s fucking up into you, rough, hard and fast.

“Bob—” you choke out, hands instinctively resting on his shoulders.

“I know. I’m sorry. I told you, fuck, that I was running out of restraint. I’m so sorry honey.” He’s kissing his apologies into your hairline, on your cheeks, on your neck. He’s lapping at the skin where your neck meets your jaw and all you can do is hold on when he keeps fucking up into you, relentless. “You feel so good, honey, so wet and hot for me. So tight. This is what I needed, you’re all I need, baby, fuck!” He wraps an arm around you to keep still, and the other on comes round your front, pushing you back a little, changing the angle. You ball up his sweater in your hands, so hard you feel your arms shaking but he keeps going. “She’s so good to me,” he whispers in your ear, “so eager, she’s made for me isn’t she. She’s mine forever,” he groans. The sound your hips make when they meet echoes obscenely around the living room and it’s taking all you have not to scream when his hand slips under your t-shirt again kneading your tits. “Gonna take this off ‘kay. Wanna see all of you.” He slows down enough to help you pull the shirt over your head and then he’s right back to his punishing pace. He watches, practically drooling as your tits bounce with every thrust. His free hand rests on one , slowly massaging it as he leans down and pops the other in his mouth. You don’t know what to focus on, his hands, or his mouth as sucks and nips and soothes with his tongue, or his cock; hard, hot, heavy, and punishing as he drives into you.

“Can feel you fluttering around me angel. You got another one f’me so soon? You gonna cum around this cock? Fuck, it’s like she wants to swallow me up, keep me inside forever. Is that what my baby wants? To have me inside forever?” he babbles. He’s lavishing kisses all over your chest now and his free hand moves down your body, reaching into the space where the of you connect. His fingers have barely grazed your clit when you feel yourself snap again, thighs quivering as another wave of pleasure knock into you. You rest your head on his chest, too tired to do anything except ride it out with him. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. ‘M right here for you, pretty. C’mon, I’m right here,” he’s cooing in your ear as you relax in his arms.

He slows down for a little bit, but you can still feel him, hard as ever, snug inside you. You whine when he pulls out, still sensitive. “I know, I know, sweetie I just need to do somethin’ real quick okay?” he mutters, more to himself than you. He maneuvers you both so that you’re lying on the couch chest down, pushing his hand between your shoulder blades to get you to arch. He pushes back in, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. She’s so wet for me baby, I wish you could see, wish you could feel how she’s still so tight just fuckin’ made for me.” He’s slamming into you again, and you have to bite into the couch cushion to stop yourself from crying out. You can hear Bob panting above you, fingers digging into your hips so hard it’s almost painful.

“Bob, fuck,” you cry out, muffled by the couch.

“I know, I know. Feels so good. So soft, baby.” The hand that was between your shoulder blades moves into your hair, gripping tight as he pushes your head further into the couch. You clench hard and it rips a groan out of him so desperate you’re surprised he doesn’t cum right then.

“You like that honey? Squeezing me so tight like that, you’re killing me here,” he whines. You can’t reply. You’re too full, too sensitive. He leans down, pressing a wet kiss between your shoulder blades. “So perfect like this, baby. Taking me so well.” Your thighs are sticky with a mix of sweat and your arousal, and you can feel that tell-tale heat creeping up on you again. “Doing so well for me,” he whispers into your ear, chest flush against your back, “taking it so so well, you’re made for this aren’t ya. Made to take me.” His pace is unrelenting, and his grip on your tightens. You can feel yourself fluttering around him, and you screw your eyes shut trying to delay the inevitable. “Again, sweet girl? You’re spoilin’ me tonight aren’t ya. So good to me, always so good to me, I’m… I’m sorry fuck baby, you’re doing so well, just give me another one please,” he’s mumbling into the nape of your neck. The hand that was guiding your hips into him goes round to your front, finding your clit instantly. He moves his fingers in lazy circles, like he has all the time in the world. You don’t know when you start, but you can hear yourself babbling, begging him for more. “My sweet girl wants more?” He asks, and you just nod, not trusting yourself to say anything coherent. He chuckles into your skin and then he does something he’s never done before: he bites you, right where your neck and shoulder meet. Not hard enough to hurt, but it sends a shock through your body so strong it pushes you over the edge. Your fingers dig into the couch cushion beneath you as you try to ground yourself.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Bob groans out, the hand in your hair moving to couch’s armrest. You’re about to complain when you hear a loud crack and a rip. You lift your head and open your eyes just in time to see your armrest separate from the rest of your couch. Bob stills, and you turn your head to face him. He’s panting, and there’s a look of mild surprise in his eyes.

“Dude, I just got this couch.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I told you I can’t- can’t control myself right now. I’m sorry baby. I’ll buy you a new one exactly like it.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, and you feel him move both his hands to your hips.

“Bob honey I can’t,” you moan when you feel him twitch inside you.

“You can, you’re my good girl. Fuck, please gimme more, I need more… I need you pleasepleaseplease. Just one more okay, one more should do it.” He presses a kiss to the spot where he just bit you. “C’mon angel. You’re so good, baby. Fuck I can still feel her squeezing me. Real tight like. Baby please.”

He’s rolling his hips against you, desperate.

“Alright, alright, just not here okay. Bedroom.”

He’s up before you can blink, throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You swear he flies to your room, ripping the door off its hinges. You have to reinforce your apartment before he tears the whole damn thing down, you think. He wastes no time laying you on your bed, placing a pillow under your hips. He’s on top of you, knees on either side of your hips, hands hooking under your thighs so he can press your knees to your chest. You take him in, hair absolutely stuck down with sweat and eyes still stormy. His cheeks and neck are flushed and he looks ravenous as he stares down at you. You start giggling and he frowns.

“What’s so funny?”

“You look like freaky Pooh bear right now,” you giggle unable to contain it. Your giggles die in your throat as he takes his hands off of you and hooks his fingers into the collar of his sweater, pulling it over his head. You hear it land with a soft thud somewhere on your floor. You let yourself take him in, the broad planes of his shoulders, the scattering of freckles across his chest. Your eyes wander down to the hard lines of his abs and down lower to where his cock still stands at attention; red and angry and leaking. He presses his forehead to yours and forces you to look into his eyes instead.

“You were saying?” he asks, as he lowers his hips, sandwiching himself between your bodies. “Fuck, you’re wet. This what you like baby? Being treated like this, hm?”

He’s pressing his chest to yours, rocking his hips and dragging his cock along your slit. You try to turn your head, but he uses his hand to keep your head still.

“Look at me, angel. Let me see you,” he pants out, breath fanning over your face. He keeps rocking, and your toes curl every time his head drags over your clit.

“Bob, please. Give it to me please,” you whine, hands reaching around, nails digging into the muscle of his back. He pushes into you achingly slow, and you feel yourself fluttering as you take every inch he has to give, stomach tightening when he bottoms out with his hips flush against yours. You close your eyes and grit your teeth to stop the absolutely pathetic sound you know is gonna escape and Bob ghosts his lips over yours.

“Stop doing that, lemme hear you, beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips. “Lemme hear how I make you feel gorgeous please, I need it.” He’s thrusting into you hard and when you let those first couple of moans escape he crushes his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue into yours, hot and eager and desperate. “That’s better, fuck you listen so well. You’re such a good girl f’me, always baby.”

You’re buzzing beneath him, and you can’t help the tears that run down your face as he continues to press himself into you. He pushes his chest down into you, pinning you beneath his weight, keeping you folded in half. He pulls his lips away from yours, and then his thumbs are wiping your tears so gently it surprises you.

“No need to cry, baby you’re doing so well. It’s okay, angel I’m here.” He’s kissing your cheeks, so tenderly it almost tears your focus away from the way his hips are slamming into yours . “Fuck, honey can you feel that? I’m so deep, you feel so good. You’re so good like this, wanna stay like this forever, don’t wanna go anywhere else.” He stops thrusting to grind his hips into yours, making you twitch against him when he moves over your clit. You’re breathing heavy, not sure what to focus on anymore when he starts up again, the wet sound of your hips slamming together filling up the room. His lips are at your jaw, alternating between short kisses and nipping at the skin there, then he’s moving down your neck, sucking and licking his way down to your chest. He pulls his head up, but he doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay locked on your stomach.

“Oh honey, look at that,” he says, and you do. Every time he thrusts you see his tip poking at your lower stomach, pushing more gasps and moans out of you. “That’s me, baby . Oh my god, you’re so hot taking me like this. I’ll never be able to get enough of this, you feel amazing.”

You feel your walls start fluttering again, and Bob reattaches his lips to your neck.

“That’s it sweet girl,” he puts his forearms on either side of your head, bracing himself as he pushes in harder, “one more for me, just like before okay?”

You just nod, the pressure in your stomach building with each thrust.

“Bob it’s too much,” you choke out, scratching down his back.

“Never too much angel, it’s fine, you’re fine, I promise.”He lifts up, bracing a hand against your headboard, his other hand keeping your knees folded into your chest. “Oh my god, you should see her baby, she’s so greedy for me she wants more. Is that what you need? More? She’s fucking, d-drooling all over me, oh my god you’re so fucking hot like this,” he blabbers, just pounding into you. You’re pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching and somewhere in the kitchen you swear you hear glass shatter. “Please let go for me, you can do it, I know you can.”

You’re shaking your head, trying to take deep breaths but he’s unrelenting. You can hear your bed creaking dangerously, the headboard ramming against the wall.

“Bob, honey, wait—”

“Can’t stop, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry honey. Fuck please I just need another one okay. I know you can,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t know—”

“You can, baby.”

You can feel the pressure building, like a spring being wound tighter and tighter and tighter until suddenly your vision goes blurry and you’re gushing out all over him soaking his thighs, your thighs, your sheets. Somewhere in your brain you register a loud crack! and you just know your headboard’s done for.

“Warn me before you do that,” he practically growls out, staring at the small mess you’ve made. “I can’t handle it, you know it drives me crazy,” he says already repositioning you, getting ready to go again.

You lose track of how many times he manhandles into you different positions, how many times he pulls another orgasm out of you— always with the promise that it’s the last one. Every time you think you’re done and you can’t possibly give him any more he takes it anyways. You’re a sweaty, panting, writhing mess by the time Bob’s thrusts start to get sloppy and erratic and he’s whispering in your ear about how he’s so close this time and it really is the last time and he’s begging you to come with him.

“C’mon sweetheart, you really wanna I can feel it. Cum for me, milk me dry baby I need this.”

You oblige, thighs spasming. He gives you a few more sloppy thrusts before he pushes in all the way, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as your lights blow out and he empties himself inside of you, cock twitching against your walls.

“There we go, oh that feels so good,” he gasps out, collapsing onto you in a sweaty, sticky heap. He brings his hand up to your face, cupping it gently.

“Need to pull out okay? Hold on,” he says as he pulls out, torturously slow. “There we go, good girl. Wait here alright?”

You nod. It’s not like you have much choice. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s been turned to jelly. You can feel Bob leaking out of you, and you think briefly about the fact that you’re probably gonna need a new mattress. You manage to push yourself up to seated and then you look around. Your bed-frame is a goner, and there are dents in your wall from where the headboard slammed into it before Bob destroyed it.

“I’m back,” Bob says. He’s put his sweats back on and he’s got a glass of water— which he hands to you— and a towel. He lowers himself onto the mattress, gently spreading your legs apart so he can use the towel to wipe between them. You sigh in relief as he tidies you up. When he’s done there he looks you up and down taking stock. You’re covered in reddish-purple marks that you don’t even remember him sucking onto you and you see his eyes widen when he reaches the bite mark on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, running his fingers over the bite. Then his hand moves, cradling your head, turning your head this way and that as he feels around the scalp.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I didn’t pull out any hair. Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Mhhmmm, you said that already. I’m fine, I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

You nuzzle your cheek into his hand closing your eyes at the warmth.

“I bit you.”

“I know and I liked it. Stop worrying about me.” You put a hand to his forehead. “Huh, It looks like your fever’s gone.”

“Told you, Sentry Serum,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss into your hairline. He pulls you in tight to his chest, kissing your forehead.

“You were so good, made me feel so good. Promise I’ll make it up to you next time,” he mumbles against your forehead.

“You wanna make it up to me?”

“Yeah of course, honey.”

He’s tracing little doodles on your back. You push away from him so you can look him in the eye.

“You can start by replacing my furniture. And changing my lights. And putting my door back on it’s hinges,” you list off. You’re teasing but you see the flush that creeps up his neck.

“Another thing I can use my sweet sweet Avengers money for,” he deadpans.

You laugh, getting ready to stand so you can put your clothes back on when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Stay with me like this,” he says pulling you into his chest. And you do. You cuddle up to him, let him kiss the top of your head and trace circles into your lower back.

You’re not sure how long you’re lying there like that, but the buzzing of your cellphone pulls you out of the moment.

“It’s Yelena,” Bob says, handing you the phone. You let him answer it pushing yourself up. You find the sweater he was wearing earlier and pull it on, basking in Bob’s scent.

“Bob? Where have you been, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you! And why isn’t your girlfriend answering her phone we called like ten times,” Yelena yells when the call connects.

Bob grimaces as he pulls it away from his ear.

“Hello to you too, Yelena,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t near my phone,” you say as you settle in next to Bob.

“Okay well are you guys okay?”

“Tell them to turn on video,” you hear Alexei yell.

“Alexei said turn on your video,” Yelena relays, even though Bob is already doing it. When both of you are in frame, you see Yelena visibly relax.

“See, I told you, Lena you worry for nothing,” Alexei bellows from somewhere in the Tower kitchen.

“He’s okay everyone!” you hear Yelena tell the rest of the team.

“I’m not sure it’s him you need to be worried about,” you hear Bucky say as he takes the phone from Yelena. “Bob do you even know what you got hit with earlier?”

“Evil pollen. But I’m fine now, had a bit of a … of a fever earlier, but it’s broken. I’m okay.”

“Our Golden Guardian strong as bull! No need for babysitting,” Alexei whoops. You suspect he’s a couple of drinks in, and your suspicion is confirmed when he squishes himself into frame, a bright pink looking cocktail with a little umbrella clutched in his hand. You see Bucky’s face twitch, before he turns the phone so he is the only one in frame.

“No, Bob. We read through some of the files. That plant was for… reproductive purposes.” Bucky can’t look at the camera when he says this.

“What do you mean?”

“He means that the pollen is like if Viagra and an aphrodisiac had a baby and pumped it full of steroids. Apparently it was making subjects crazy horny man, like just aching for it the entire time it was in their system. A tablespoonful could take a whole man down apparently and you were covered in it.” Walker this time, a lazy smirk pasted across his face. “How are you not completely laid out right now?” Walker asks, but you suspect he knows the answer.

“I was trying to check on her discreetly,” Bucky grits out through his teeth, turning the camera back to himself.

“Maybe the Sentry Serum just worked it out of my system,” Bob tries to lie.

Bucky just narrows his eyes. “Look I don’t need details. Just tell me we won’t be getting a hospital bill,” he sighs in exasperation.

“No hospital bill,” you confirm. You don’t tell him about the incoming furniture bill.

“That’s all I need to know. Bob, we’ll see you in the morning for the debrief,” and then he hangs up.

“Some pollen huh,” you tease, nudging him with your elbow.

“Please don’t, that’s so embarassing. I got hit by evil sex pollen and everyone knows.”

“Do you think they’ll make you, like, actually debrief… you know… what just happened?”

You’re thinking out loud, but you hear him groan even louder.

“Kill me. Just kill me right now. I’m never going back to work again,” he whines.

He’s cut off by a knock at your door, and both of you get up to go check it out. Your neighbour Anna is on the other side, looking a bit flustered.

“Listen, we think it’s like, soooooo cool that the Sentry is your boyfriend nothing against you guys at all,” she drawls, eyes flicking to where Bob stands behind you, still topless, “it’s just. It would be really cool, if you guys could be just a liiiiiittle more gentle. You knocked some of my picture frames off the wall, and now I gotta replace them—”

“I’ll replace them,” Bob rushes out, “just tell her how much they cost and I’ll replace them we’re so sorry, have a good night.” He almost slams the door in her face.

“I can’t show my face here again,” he pouts. “Your neighbours hate me now!”

You snort. “Please. You give them one good fly around the neighbourhood, they’ll forgive you.”

“I’m serious. And I’m always gentle. It was just today, it’s never gonna happen again!”

“Oh let’s not be so hasty,” you rush out. “Maybe next time, let’s go to yours?”

“Next time? You liked that? You wanna do it again?”

He’s incredulous when you nod shyly, but you don’t miss the way he has to adjust himself.

You would definitely be getting a next time.

[morpheusbaby3]

I really wanted to know if it was obvious to everyone that the death of Morpheus was also technically a suicide, since death meant he could get out of that situation.

In my view it was a combination of tiredness with guilt for having killed his own son (even if it was at the request of Orpheus

[morpheusbaby3]

an edit i just posted on my tiktok i haven't used in months teehee

[morpheusbaby3]

There comes the golden boy

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Y/N is interrupted during her training by Bob. Well, not Bob, Sentry.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader. Sentry and Y/N talking, mentions and descriptions of scars.

Word count: 1,2k

Authors note: English is not my first language. Also, I don't know if "sport jacket" is a correct translation for a jacket that you wear when you exercise, so just imagine a jacket you use for sports.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The winter morning blizzard whistled outside the tower. Most of the team was having breakfast or hadn't woken up yet, and everyone was going to train afterwards, which meant the usually noisy, chaotic environment had become eerily quiet. Y/N was in the training room, finishing up a light session on her own, her hair pulled up in a messy bun and her sports jacket soaked through the back from sweat. She unclasped the jacket and was about to grab her towel when she felt it.

A light hum.

It was like a ripple in the air, a small vibration in her bones that she had trained herself to feel since she was a child as a result of the endless weeks of isolation in NEST. She learned to sense the energy of the people around her to know which caretaker was coming for her. Now it was a habit that was hard to erase.

She stood still, back straightening as her eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right.

It started slowly, the shift in the energy, a subtle, growing pull. She was attuned to Bob, could feel when he was near. But this… This wasn’t Bob.

She walked to the door of the training room, following that quiet storm building in her chest. Padded softly down the mat, her heart thudding louder than her steps. When she had left the room for the hallway, she saw him.

Bob.

No, not Bob.

The man standing there had Bob’s body, Bob’s face, but everything else was wrong. His posture was too upright, too secure. He wasn’t fidgeting or shifting nervously. He was still. Serene. And terrifying.

Y/N froze. And pray it wasn't what she thought.

"Bob?" she asked, cautiously, her voice smaller than she intended.

His eyes settled on her, and his face softened, but only slightly. His eyes —usually warm, confused and gentle— were golden, glowing faintly even under the tower’s dim lighting.

Her breath caught. She had guessed it, but confirm it chilled her.

"Sentry," she stated seriously.

He nodded. "Yes."

Y/N remembered him well, although it had been five months since she last saw him, she could still remember the golden suit, the dyed hair and the confidence with which Bob —Sentry— basically kicked their asses.

Y/N can't help but worry. She knew Bob was the Sentry. And she knew the Sentry was a force of unimaginable power held together by sheer will and unstable identity. He was a God. And he was dangerous.

Because he was just one step away from Void.

Y/N kept her hands to her sides. She didn’t want to use her powers. Not unless she had to -although she knew it would be useless-.

"Is Bob okay?"

Sentry tilted his head, as if considering the question.

"He is resting. There is no danger to him."

"Then why are you here?"

His gaze swept over her, like a scanner trying to determine threat levels. She didn’t know what he saw, but he didn’t move.

"He was overwhelmed," Sentry said simply. "Stretched. He needed peace. I gave him that."

She nodded slowly. Her chest ached. The idea that Bob had needed to retreat —really retreat, deep enough for Sentry to emerge— hurt more than it should have. She hadn’t noticed. Not soon enough.

"And you?" he asked suddenly. "Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not-" Her mouth went dry.

Sentry took a step closer. Not aggressive. Not hostile. Just curious.

"You fear me."

She didn’t deny it, actually, she scoffed at the question. "Shouldn’t I?"

He studied her in silence for a moment that felt like an eternity.

"No." His answer was so firm, so resolute, that she blinked. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Anyway, he continued. "You are important to Bob. That makes you important to me."

"You care about what he cares about?" She crossed her arms in disbelief.

He looked at her, as if the answer were obvious. "I am part of him. He tries to reject me, but I am born of his mind. His desires. His needs. His hopes. And you are in all of them."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"You calm him. You ground him. Your presence gives him a center. That is why I do not harm you."

"That makes me sound like a shield."

"You are," he said, but his voice sound somewhat softer now. Tender. "But you are also light."

Y/N felt her face flush.

"I understand why he loves you."

That made her step back and he took a step forward.

"Oh God, he doesn't-"

"He does. I see it. I feel it. When I am here, I know everything he suppresses. He loves you." Sentry took another step closer. He stood only a few inches from her now, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than she expected. "And that makes you mine to protect as well."

She didn’t know what to say. That kind of claim. It wasn’t possessive, not exactly at least. It was just definitive.

"And what about Void?" she asked, forcing herself to stand straighter. "He's around here too?"

"Not now. No." Sentry’s glow dimmed slightly. His voice dropped. "He's not going to come near you while I exist."

"Kinda late..." She mocked him to ease the tension between them. Seeing Bob like that, so confident, so upright, was so strange. Not bad, just strange.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Y/N felt like she was standing on the edge of something massive, something that could either protect or destroy her with the same ease.

Sentry tilted his head slightly, examining her, paying special attention to every freckle, every mark, every eyelash, everything. His gaze lowered slightly, noticing that YN was wearing a sports bra under her jacket. But his gaze was glued on her abdomen.

Y/N knew what he was seeing. A chill ran down her spine, mentally kicking herself for not covering up sooner.

Along her right side, just beneath the ribs, there's a jagged scar about four inches long, it has uneven edges that make it look like something tore through her. Not just physically, but violently. Around it, faint burn scars dot the skin, ghost-pale patches where the nerve endings never fully recovered.

She remembers it very well. The accident that revealed her expanded abilities. And later the “limit trials,” when they used pain and exhaustion as tools to provoke her abilities, to test her limits.

His hand didn't tremble as he approached her skin, stopping before touching it when Y/N took his hand out of pure reflex.

"Don't-... Y-you... Will Bob come back soon?" she finally asked.

"He will. When he is ready." His eyes still couldn't stop looking at the scar; there was something in them. Pity and anger. And she hated it.

"What- what triggered him?" She asked with concern, their hands still together. "I mean, he was fine this morning when we woke up. He was fine yesterday when we went to sleep, too."

"Just had a little conversation with Yelena and Ava. He was very nervous. But nothing important... Just know that you're going to have to be patient with us. He will do it in his own time."

She nodded, although she didn't fully understand. Then, carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal, she said, "You sure I can't talk to him now?"

Sentry looked at her for a long time. Then he blinked, and the gold in his eyes dulled. And the stiffness in his shoulders sank slightly. When he spoke again, it was Bob’s voice. His real voice, his blue eyes, all unmistakably his.

"Y/N...?"

Relief hit her so hard she almost cried, but she didn't want to overwhelm him further, so she just sighed and wrapped her arms around her abdomen to cover it. "Yeah. It’s me."

Bob looked down at himself like he wasn’t quite sure where he was. "Did I- did I lose control?"

"Not exactly," she said gently, stepping closer. "You just... Y'know, needed a break. Sentry took over for a while, but it's all good."

"Oh God," he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. "Of course he did."

"It’s okay," she said.

He looked at her, guilt flickering in his tired eyes, and began to paranoidly scan her. "D-did he do something to you? Did he say something?"

Y/N smiled faintly and shook her head, the jacket zipper was fastened again. "No, don't worry."

Bob froze. Bob looked at her again, more vulnerable than ever.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I- I came here to talk to you... A-about... Uh, we still have to eat your non-birthday cheesecake."

"It's alright Bob, it's all alright." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "We really should eat it before everyone else does..."

He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh into her shoulder. "Okay. Yeah. We should do that."

And just like that, the golden glow faded completely.

Bob was Bob again.

And Y/N knew she only had to wait.

[morpheusbaby3]

Bob's Love Counselor(s)

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: After spending the night making cheesecake with Y/N, Bob needs to vent to his love counselors the next morning.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader.

Word count: 900

Authors note: English is not my first language.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Bob stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing the same hoodie from the night before, still smelling of cream cheese and blueberries. He looked like a man haunted, not by trauma or internal voids, but by feelings. Powerful, confusing, all-consuming feelings.

Yelena, already curled on the table with her coffee, raised a brow at him.

"You look suspiciously happy."

"'morning to you too." Bob groaned, flopping onto the chair beside her. He let out a sigh before continuing to speak. "She let me open a jam jar last night."

Ava, entering from the hallway with an annoyed expression because she had just woken up, blinked. "I’m sorry, what? Did I miss context or are you having a breakdown over preserves?"

"It wasn’t just any jam. It was blueberry. From the farmers market. It's her favorite."

Yelena gave Ava a look and took a long sip of her coffee. "Why do we get into this?"

"He needs an intervention," Ava muttered, plopping into the chair. "So what happened exactly?"

"She came into the kitchen. Middle of the night. I was making cheesecake, her favorite by the way." Bob leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers threading through his hair. "And she just stood there looking like she was about to disappear again. And then I started rambling-"

"Shocking." Yelena interrupted in a monotonous tone.

"And I told her it wasn’t a birthday cake because it was technically past midnight. But then I said something really stupid like, 'You being here is worth celebrating.'"

Ava actually smiled. "Okay, that’s not stupid. That’s sweet."

Bob looked between them, eyes wide. "And she smiled. Like, really smiled. Not the polite kind. The kind where her nose crinkles a little, and she has that tiny dimple that only shows when she’s genuinely happy. I live for that smile."

Yelena made a gagging motion. "You’re hopeless."

"And then, this is the important part, she was about to open the blueberry jam, right? The one she buys at that farmers market? And she could have easily used her powers, like always. But she didn’t. She handed it to me." Bob said, grinning to himself. "I don’t know, it’s stupid, but the way she did it... It just felt like- like she trusted me, you know? Like, she could have used her powers or, I don't know."

Yelena and Ava exchanged glances.

"So?" Ava asked. "Maybe her hands were full."

"Yeah." Yelena, stretched out on the opposite end of the table, giving him a long-suffering look. "It’s a jar of jam, Bob. Not a proposal."

Bob blinked. "I know, I know. It’s just- I don’t know. There’s something about the way she looks at me sometimes. Like she sees me. Not Sentry. Not the other part. Just me."

Yelena let out a chuckle. "Okay, lover boy."

Bob frowned. "I just... I’ve never felt like this about someone. Like everything she does matters. Even the way she brushes her hair behind her ear or how she wears mismatched socks. I remember stupid things she says. Like how she doesn’t like artificial strawberry flavoring, and how she prefers the rain over sunshine. Who prefers rain?"

"Okay," Ava said slowly, "So you’re in love with her. That’s obvious."

"No, no," Bob waved her off. "You don’t understand. I’m terrified of being Sentry. I’m even more terrified of the other guy. But with her? It’s like all that... Noise goes away. She makes the scary stuff smaller."

Ava set down her cup. "Okay, as your secondary love therapist, I’m stepping in. First: breathe. Second: you didn’t screw anything up last night. Right?"

"No. We made the cheesecake together. She even licked the spoon and made fun of how I stir things like a grandma."

"Sounds like she enjoyed herself." Yelena grinned.

"Then," Ava continued, "You need to stop spiraling over jam jars and start thinking about what you actually want to do with all this feeling. You going to tell her?"

Bob groaned. "I don’t know! What if I scare her away? What if I’m too much? I mean, look at me. I’m barely holding myself together."

"Then let her see that," Yelena said quietly. "Let her see the mess. She deserves to know all of it to choose you."

That shut Bob up.

He blinked, then looked at his hands. "I want her to choose me."

"Then stop pretending like she hasn’t already started to," Ava said. "She stayed in the kitchen with you, Bob. After she shut everyone else out. That means something."

Yelena leaned in and gave him a nudge. "And hey, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll punch Bucky for stealing her."

Bob scowled. "Don’t even joke about that."

"Okay, okay," she laughed, throwing her hands up. "No Bucky jokes. But seriously. Next time you’re in the kitchen with her and there’s jam involved, maybe kiss her."

Bob blinked. Ava raised an eyebrow.

"Or maybe don’t jump to kissing. Start with telling her how you feel."

"Right," Bob muttered. "Words. Talking. I can do that."

"No, you can't." Yelena interrupted, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing to speak. "But you'll get there for her."

Bob grinned, soft and uncertain. But maybe, just maybe, a little bit more certain than before.

He left the kitchen and walked to the training room, where Y/N told him that morning she was going to be, because they had a cheesecake to share.

And maybe he’d actually tell her.

But something felt strange in him, maybe it was nerves.

[morpheusbaby3]

Non-birthday Cheesecake

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: On her birthday, Y/N just wants to be left alone, but one quiet gesture from Bob might make her reconsider how good birthdays can be.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, written in first person, mention of past trauma and childhood neglect/institutionalization, some insults and curse words, awkward relationship with birthdays, blind idiots in love, reader has telepathic/telekinetic powers (mentioned only), emotional outburst, probably bad russian. (If I forgot anything, let me know!)

Word count: 3.3k

Author's note: English is not my first language, so if there are any problems with the tenses, please let me know. Also, I did my best to make it as GN as possible, but as I said, English is not my first language.

Series Masterlist AO3 General Masterlist

Have you ever wanted to hide something from the rest of the world so much that, as if the universe hated you, people would somehow find out? Yeah? Well, that's exactly what I was praying wouldn't happen.

Since I was a child, I'd never really enjoyed birthdays. Well, I don't really have anything against other people's birthdays, I just have not-so-good memories of mine.

At NEST, birthday celebrations were more like a mix between the caretakers giving you special treatment just for that one time a year and the other kids treating you well because the dry, tasteless cake they were going to eat that day was thanks to you.

And when I escaped, all I did on my birthday was, well, nothing. I had nothing to really celebrate.

I know that, if I dig deep enough into my mind, I can vaguely recall a woman, her face blurry, singing "Happy Birthday." In the memory, the room is always somewhat small and dimly lit by a warm light. I like to theorize it was from candles on a cake. The woman's voice was soft and sweet, though a little cracked, as if she felt anxious for some reason.

But this small, almost forgotten memory isn't enough to drown out the others and make me actually like my birthday.

And I want to make it clear that, aside from the not-so-good memories, I don't like birthdays because I hate being the center of attention, I hate people expecting you to just want to have a good time that day, and I hate the awkwardness of waiting in front of a cake for everyone to finish singing Happy Birthday with a goofy grin on your face because you don't know what expression to put on.

That's why no one who's ever met me knows my birthday. It's not like people would tell someone their birthday immediately after meeting them, but that topic comes up eventually and I always do my best to avoid it. And I'm really good at it, although I haven't had to worry about it much because working as a hitwoman doesn't leave you much time for friendships.

But of course, for the past few months I've been living with a group of mercenaries with therapeutic needs. And when you live with someone after preventing the representation of a former drug addict's depression from taking over New York, well, you end up creating some kind of bond with them, right?

Even with Walker, when, for God's sake, I just want to knock him out every time he opens his mouth.

That's why I panicked when I woke up this morning and noticed the date on my calendar.

I'm a procrastinator, so to avoid it, I keep a very strict planner: one on paper—which ended up serving more as a diary—and another on my phone, in addition to a calendar hanging on my bedroom wall with writing and Post-it notes.

And you're wondering: how busy are you to need so much organization?

Well, it's more a mix of procrastination and forgetfulness. It's truly incredible to think that a person with psychic powers could be so forgetful, but that would explain why I wasn't the favorite on NEST.

Anyway, the only day on the calendar that isn't marked, but crossed out with a black marker, is my birthday.

Today.

"Oh, great." I muttered, looking up from the calendar as I got out of bed.

My feet dragged across the lavender rug, mentally patting myself on the back for choosing such a warm and fluffy one, to the bathroom. There, I spent a good amount of time fixing my hair, washing my face, and doing the skincare routine Valentina had said would "work wonders so people wouldn't have to put so much makeup on my baggy eyes in publicity shots."

As I was finished applying the thousandth cream to my face, I heard a light knock on the bedroom door. There was only one person who dared show up in my room at this time of the morning, given my reputation as a morning grouch, and I had to resist the smile that crept onto my lips at that thought.

"It's open, Bob!" I yelled from the bathroom, hearing the door open and close, but no footsteps.

I could picture Bob standing in the doorway, his feet shifting slightly and anxiously, scanning the room to distract himself while he waited. As if he hadn't been here more times I can count in the few months we'd been living in the tower.

"Hey Y/N! What's... Why is today crossed out on your calendar?" Bob's question reached my ears; it seemed he'd raised his voice a bit so I could hear him over the closed door.

Well, apparently I hadn't been paying much attention, or Bob had really learned something when Yelena taught him how to be light on his feet —"like a real spy," the blonde had said—, because Bob had clearly been snooping around the room thoroughly.

"Oh God! Robert Reynolds, don't snoop in my room... I really need to know your middle name. It doesn't have the same impact otherwise."

The words tumbled out of my mouth as I walked out of the bathroom, finding Bob gently running his fingertips over the calendar paper, noticing that a certain day had been furiously crossed out, so much so that it had somewhat crumbled.

Now, I'm not exactly proud of taking it out on a piece of paper, but I did it when I bought the calendar a couple of months ago and it wasn't a good time for me, okay?

Bob jumped slightly at the sound of the bathroom door being abruptly opened and my half-shouted words, frowning a little, as if processing everything.

"Sorry, I... Uh, no, I- I don't have a middle name," he explained, pulling his fingers from the calendar, but glancing at it one last time before looking back at me. "Right, um, Valentina wants a last-minute meeting with everyone after breakfast, something about... uh, I'm not sure what. But yeah, that."

A sigh escaped me, grateful that he chose to ignore the whole "crossed-out day" thing. Maybe I looked more desperate than I thought, and that's why he ignored it?

"Thanks, Bob. I'll finish up here and go get breakfast. Are the others already up?"

Bob just nodded, took a few steps toward the door before stopping and turning back to me.

"I made you some tea." His voice held a mixture of pride and anticipation, as if he knew he'd done something right but wanted me to confirm it anyway. Odd but sweet, very Bob. "Chamomile, I know you prefer green tea, but for some reason you don't drink it in the mornings, and I haven't seen you drinking coffee lately, so-"

I cut him off with a small smile. “Chamomile is perfect. Thanks. That’s thoughtful of you.”

Yes, I was interrupting him. But I knew he was explaining himself because he was nervous, and rambling on and on wasn't helping him in that state, because in the midst of his ramblings, he'd end up overthinking every little movement he made.

And that wasn't good.

We both stared at each other for a while, my hands curled behind my back, and Bob shifted his feet slightly on the floor.

"I'm going to change now, before go to breakfast... You know, one usually has to undress for that, and I'd need the privacy."

His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up just a bit, as if he had just realized that small detail.

"Yeah! Yes, of course. I uh... I'm going. Now! Right, excuse me."

"Okay, I'll hurry up. We don't want the tea to get cold, right?"

Stupid, what kind of joke is that? And why did it sound so British? Maybe because I was spending so much time with Ava lately?

Bob just nodded and chuckled as he turned to grab the knob, giving a small nod as he left the room.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"And remember," Valentina said, although none of us were really paying attention, "if someone shoves a mic in your face and asks anything, you answer with the PR training we gave you. I don’t care how charming or hilarious you think you are. Looking at you, Belova."

Yelena snorted.

We were all waiting impatiently for the moment to leave, none of us really standing being in this meeting anymore.

I watched with curiosity as Mel approached Valentina, beginning to gather her things from the table as she leaned and whispered something in her ear, Val blinked, then smiled—falsely.

"Oh, by the way, happy birthday Y/N." She gave a vague wave, and I sank into the seat. "Mel reminded me. Would’ve forgotten otherwise. Anyway, dismissed.”

The room went still.

It was the fakest 'happy birthday' I've ever received in my entire life.

But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that now I had six pairs of eyes staring at me, some confused, others waiting for an explanation. And then there was Alexei, who simply stood up from his place at the table and walked toward me, arms outstretched.

I didn't need to read his mind to know his intentions, because the moment I tried to run for the conference room door, Alexei had already caught me in a tight hug, lifting me slightly off the floor.

"Is it really your birthday?" Ava asked, her tone calm, somewhat amusing given the way Alexei was hugging me, I suppose, with a slight hint of curiosity.

"Nope," I said flatly, trying to break free from the hug. "Well, technically."

"S dnyom rozhdeniya, Malen'kiy chitayushchiy mysli! You are as strong and bold as a goat.”

The Russian sounded shrill in my ears thanks to the proximity. Ever since Alexei found out I could speak Russian, he kept slipping little phrases in here and there.

"Uh, right.” I murmured as he set me back down. “Spasibo, Alexei.”

After that, a chorus of "Happy Birthday" filled the room, and I couldn't help but thank them in the most sincere tone I could muster. I'd been raised in a lab, but I had good manners.

"So, why didn't you tell us?" Yelena asked as she got up from the table and walked toward the door, patting my shoulder as she passed. Unlike her father, she noticed I wasn't in the mood for hugs. "We should have a party! It'll be better than Ava's."

Ava's birthday was shortly after we moved into the tower, and I really don't know how we ended up at an improvised party to celebrate and, according to Alexei, "strengthen our bonds.”

Needless to say, it wasn't the best party; we were all pretty tense and still on guard with each other; but now that a few months had passed and we'd gotten used to being together, it wasn't unreasonable to think about throwing a birthday party again, this time for me.

God, why does the universe hate me?

"Yeah... No, there's no need to throw a party."

"What are you talking about? We can use that as an excuse to relax a little today. Have cake after dinner," Walker commented as he headed for the door as well. "Sure, practice's still on, and I'm not going to go easy on you just because it's your birthday.”

“It's not that big of a deal.” I mentioned as everyone left the conference room, all of them successfully ignoring me.

Bitches.

“You didn't want to celebrate?” Bob said quietly, stopping his track next to me.

My eyes flickered to him—just for a second. “It's not that important. Just a birthday, that's it.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

About two hours later, I stepped out of the elevator, a groan escaping my lips as a burning sensation invaded my muscles when I started walking. Walker hadn't lied; he really didn't go easy on me just because it was my birthday. In fact, I think he was twice as hard on me today.

As I walked toward the kitchen, I fantasized about a nice, one hundred percent unhealthy snack and a bottle of water before locking myself in my room.

But when I got to the kitchen entrance I didn't expect to find Alexei excitedly whisking in a bowl, splashing half of the content onto the floor, while Yelena gave instructions for a cake recipe and tried to take the bowl from her father. All of this while Bob and Ava make a sign, with a bunch of markers —that I don't know where they came from— scattered on the table. And Bucky, well, he just stood there watching everyone else work.

I froze right there, my chest tightened, and my stomach started to turn. I didn't want to be angry, but I knew my body's signals pretty well and I had told them that I didn't want a party or anything remotely similar.

In my mind, indignation and guilt mingled because no one had done anything wrong. They were just being themselves. Loud. Caring.

I hate how much I like them.

“Seriously?” The words came out of my mouth without permission.

Everyone froze. Alexei and Yelena stopped fighting over the mixer, while Ava and Bob stopped coloring the P's in "Happy”.

“Y/N” Ava started. “Damn, Walker was supposed to keep you busy.”

“I told you I didn’t want to celebrate.”

Bob looked up. His face was full of surprise. And guilt. “We just wanted to do something small.”

“I don’t want small. I don’t want anything.”

Yelena stepped forward. “You should’ve said something sooner.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t really,” Yelena pushed.

“Don’t patronise me, Yelena. Not today.”

My voice came out flat. Not angry. Not curious. Just flat. And that was what made Yelena stop and look at me properly. Her smile dimmed. Her brows knit together.

That shut everyone up.

The air was thick. Bob stopped leaning on the table, looking at me properly.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

I wasn’t okay. The air was wrong. My chest was feeling heavy. My hands trembled and at the same time were still at my sides. My throat burned.

“No. I'm not okay.” I ran my hands through my hair, then scratched my scalp in frustration.“I don't want a party, I don't want a sign, and I don't want a stupid cake and blowing out stupid candles! Alexei, put down that whisk, you're making a mess!”

I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts as my hands moved down from my scalp to my eyes, pressing them there.

Alexei placed the bowl on the kitchen counter. Everyone looked at each other, surprised by my outburst. Needless to say, I completely ignored Bob's disappointed look, his shoulders visibly dropped as he placed the marker back on the table; my heart tightened at the sight, but my anger was the most important thing at that moment.

Bucky took a few steps closer to me, slowly, carefully as if he were in front of a scared animal.

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s nothing big. Just a cake. Some candles. We thought you’d like it.”

“Guys I really appreciate the effort, but didn't you think that maybe, just maybe, there's a reason I didn't tell you it was my birthday? Just-... If you want to give me a birthday present, leave me alone for the rest of the day. There's nothing to celebrate, okay? Nothing.”

I turned around, finding Walker looking at me, half surprised and half impressed.

“You suck at distraction thing, man.”

And with that I walked back to my room.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The tower hallways were quiet, too quiet. It was that liminal space of time, just past two in the morning, where the city outside hummed in a low murmur and every creak in the tower echoed just a little too loudly.

I moved silently down the hall, hoodie thrown over my pajamas, hands tucked deep into the sleeves. I decided to go out due to my self-isolation cause I hadn't eaten since the pre-training snack, and now my stomach reminded me with sharp, uncomfortable twists that I didn't get to eat after that.

To be honest, I spent the whole afternoon thinking about what happened in the kitchen. I hadn’t meant to lash out, not really. But the truth was I didn’t know how to handle being celebrated. It made me feel exposed, vulnerable. Like someone had peeled back the careful layers I wore. And worse, I had made them all feel like they'd done something wrong for trying to care.

So I hid. Like always.

My bare feet padded into the kitchen, the dim nightlight casting gold across the floor. But I halted when I saw a silhouette already standing by the counter.

Bob.

Of course I recognized him despite the poor light.

He was hunched slightly over a mixing bowl, sleeves rolled up, hair a tousled mess.

I call his name and he turned in surprise, holding the spatula like it was a weapon.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

Bob lowered the spatula, visibly relaxing. "No, no. Just… Wasn’t expecting anyone."

I tilted my head, and suddenly my brain processed Bob's state. "Are you baking?"

He hesitated, glancing at the mess behind him: bowls, measuring cups, a tub of cream cheese, flour, and sugar. A springform pan sat on the counter, dough resting there.

Then he started talking, words tumbling over each other.

"Okay, so—look, I know you said you didn’t want a birthday thing, and I swear this isn’t that. Technically it’s not a birthday cake because A) it’s a cheesecake, and B) it’s already past midnight, so technically your birthday’s over."

I raised an eyebrow, watching him scramble.

"I just—" He ran a hand through his hair. "You mentioned that cheesecake’s your favorite. The blueberry one. And I remembered. Not in a creepy way. Just in a normal, decent human memory kind of way. And I saw the blueberry jam you like half-finished in the fridge after the meeting, and I thought I'd go to the farmers market you like to get some and-"

As Bob continued rambling, I walked over to him. His hands were dusted with flour, and there was a bit of cream cheese on his cheek. Gently reached up and whipped the cream cheese off his cheek with my thumb.

"You’re making me cheesecake. After midnight. Using my favorite jam. Because you saw I was running off?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just thought… Even if you don’t like birthdays, maybe you deserve something good. Even if it’s small. Even if you don’t want to call it a celebration. I just think... I... You being here is worth celebrating. That’s all."

I was speechless. Just could watch him, the way he stood awkwardly under the kitchen light, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands.

I only managed to give him a small smile and tell him "Thank you."

He smiled back, tentative but warm. "You, uh… Want to help me finish it? I haven’t added the topping yet."

"Only if I get to lick the spoon after."

Bob froze, then he swallowed. The lighting in the kitchen was dim, but I could see that his eyes opened like a cartoon and his cheeks had acquired a pink color.

"Uh-What? Yeah! Yeah, whatever you like."

We moved together in the quiet—mixing, pouring, laughing softly. I stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, as we worked. It felt domestic in a way that twisted something gentle in my gut.

I felt like vomiting.

Later, with the cheesecake chilling in the fridge, we ended up sitting on the kitchen floor, backs to the cabinets, sharing a cold soda and splitting the leftover batter.

"You really remembered that my favorite is cheesecake?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper, everything was so silent that I fear he could hear my beating heart.

Bob nudged my foot with his. "I remember everything you say."

[morpheusbaby3]

Green-eyed

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Someone is jealous.

Warnings: use of Y/N, Fem! reader. Jealousy, misunderstanding, miscommunication, talks about feelings. Not edited -does it surprise anyone?-

Word count: 3k

Authors note: Jealousy is a bad thing kids, but how I love jealousy in fanfics. English is not my first language.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The bond between Bucky and Y/N evolved naturally, quietly, after he found her that night at Bob's bedroom door. It wasn’t loud or performative. It existed in moments: talking early in the morning before anyone else woke up, casual chats after training, small nods across rooms that meant "I’ve got you" or "I’m fine" or "Not today".

But over time, those chats deepened.

And Y/N found herself telling him things. Things she’d never even admitted to herself. And somehow, with Bucky, it felt safe to say them aloud.

The lights were dim in the training room, casting long shadows across the mats. Most of the team had finished their drills and left about an hour ago, but Y/N and Bucky remained. They had both been practicing hand-to-hand combat for at least forty minutes before they thought of taking a break. Y/N sat on the floor, stretching her legs out, sweat-damp curls stuck to her temples. Bucky stood nearby, drinking from a water bottle with his attention directed at her.

"You good?" he asked casually, giving her a glance. But it wasn't idle curiosity. It was that particular Bucky tone, the one he used when he knew someone was lying when they said they were "fine."

Y/N shrugged, her fingers toying with the hem of her long-sleeved sports shirt. "Yeah. You know. Good enough."

Bucky let out a breath. "You don’t do ‘good enough.’ Not with me at least."

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes focused somewhere on the far wall.

"It’s just, I don't know." she said finally, voice lower now. "Everything’s just... Confusing."

"Bob," Bucky said in a knowing tone, letting the name sit there. "Still not figuring things out with him?"

"It’s not that he- we are trying to. He’s… Bob. He’s gentle and scared and all heart. And he-" She leaned back on her palms. "He keeps doing this thing, where he gets too close and then moves away, but not completely. Like I’ll shatter if he touches me wrong, y'know?"

Bucky sat down beside her, uncharacteristically soft in his movement.

"Maybe he’s not just scared you’ll break," Bucky said. "Maybe he’s scared he’ll break."

"That makes two of us." Y/N smiled bitterly. "The other night we slept together."

Bucky looked at her with slightly wide eyes, surprised by what he just heard. "Excuse me, you two what?"

"Not like that! We just sleep!" She hurried to answer, her voice a little pitchy. "It was strange, he came saying he didn't want me to help him. I mean, he wanted to be there with me, but he didn't want me to use my powers on him."

"So you two slept without any powers involved? That's a good thing."

"Yeah, but the next morning it got weird when we woke up. It's... Damn, it's embarrassing... It was the first time we slept cuddling. And when we woke up the next morning he just mumbled something like "good morning," and then he just left."

"Oh. I get it." He nodded, eyes straight ahead. "Yeah, that wasnt the best move."

They remained silent for a few seconds, Bucky offered her a bottle of water and Y/N almost finished it in one gulp.

"I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like this," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky tilted his head. She looked at him, eyes shining.

"It’s not even just… Romantic," she continued, playing with the bottle label, her voice basically a murmur now that she was sharing such a deep secret. "It’s like he’s part of my nervous system. I feel everything he feels before he says it. I want to fix every hurt he’s ever had. But it’s terrifying, Buck. I’m terrified."

"You think he knows?" Bucky asked.

"No. God, no. And I’m not planning on telling him."

He stayed quiet, waiting.

"It’s not-" She stopped, then started again. "It’s not like I want something from him. I don’t even think about whether he feels the same or not. That’s not the point."

Bucky nodded, still saying nothing.

"We’re on the same team," she continued, quieter now. "It’s already complicated with his whole mental health situation. If something went wrong... If I said the wrong thing or did the wrong thing and it made things weird or worse, I’d never forgive myself. I wouldn’t risk hurting him in any way. Ever."

"So you just take care of him quietly and you settle for that." Bucky said.

"Yeah. I know how to do that. I can handle that."

He looked at her for a long moment.

"You’re better at this stuff than you give yourself credit for."

"My relationship record would disagree." She snorted softly. "It's actually non-existent."

"Doesn’t mean you don’t have a good heart."

She didn’t answer. She just looked back at Bucky, the tension slowly leaving her posture.

"I’m not trying to hide it," she said finally. "I just... I’m not ready to name it. Not yet."

"Then don’t," Bucky said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder to give her comfort. "Figure it out in your own time. Just don’t let it eat you alive."

Y/N just nodded in resignation, as if he had told her something she already knew but couldn't put into practice. Just then, the sound of a knock on the door brought them both out of their little bubble.

"Hey! Sorry guys," Bob said, standing in the doorway with a somewhat strained smile. "You- Are you done training? Y/N you said you wanted to practice with me today."

She nodded, standing up from the floor as she ran a hand through her hair to remove the remains of sweat. "Yes, yes. We're done."

To the rest of the team, the growing bond between Bucky and Y/N wasn’t surprising. They trained together often, sparred in the gym, sometimes even sat next to each other during team meetings. But no one read too much into it.

Except Bob.

Bob noticed.

He didn’t say anything, of course. Not when he found them laughing softly at the kitchen counter while making breakfast one morning. Not when he spotted them in the corner of the gym, Y/N talking quietly while Bucky listened, arms crossed, nodding occasionally. Not even when he saw them on the roof late one night, talking and staring at the stars.

It gnawed at him though.

Because it was Bucky. The experienced and serious one everyone trusted. The one Y/N now trusted.

Bob told himself it was stupid. Y/N still spent time with him. She still climbed into bed with him most nights, now she even sang him to sleep, still touched his hand when they passed each other in the hall, they still had their afternoon getaways to go for walks and end up trying food in new places every day. But it didn’t change the twist in his chest whenever he caught sight of her and Bucky together.

Why was she laughing like that with him?

Did she tell Bucky things she didn't tell Bob?

He’d been through too much, lost too many pieces of himself, to ignore the sting of jealousy.

The training between Bob and Y/N had gone well, so well that in the end they were both exhausted and went to sleep early. But in the middle of the night Y/N woke up a little hungry, so being careful not to wake Bob up she got up, walked to the kitchen and snooped around to see what was in the fridge to eat.

It was well past midnight. She leaned against the counter, concentration in every pore while making a ham and cheese sandwich. The glow from the open fridge spilled over the tiles. Bucky entered in a black hoodie, looking for a snack but finding her instead.

"Hey." He opened the fridge door wider. "How was the training?"

"It was good. Bob managed to do two of the three tasks correctly," Y/N replied with a half-smile, visibly proud of Bob and his progress.

Bucky pulled out an apple, took a bite, then leaned next to her. "You gonna talk about it now or...?"

She sighed. "It’s pathetic. I'm pathetic."

"You know I’m like more than a hundred years old, right? You think I haven’t heard pathetic by now?"

"I love him." Y/N looked down at her sandwich. "Like, full-on, movie-script, songs-about-you, stupid kind of love. And he has no idea."

Bucky didn’t flinch. Just nodded, chewing thoughtfully.

"And sometimes," she continued, "I think maybe he does feel the same. But then he pulls away. Or he hides."

"You’re both terrified," Bucky said. "Because, believe me, he feels the same."

Y/N glanced at him sharply. "That obvious?"

He smiled softly. "You have nothing to worry about."

The next day, Bob caught Y/N and Bucky in the kitchen. She was leaning against the wall, Bucky standing close, not quite touching her. They were whispering—something low and intense. Y/N looked up at him with a soft expression Bob didn’t know how to name.

Understanding perhaps? Vulnerability?

So he just walked up to the table, where the rest of the team gathered for breakfast. Walker was complaining about something Bob didn't care about. Ava and Yelena were teasing each other over who ate all the chocolate bars. Bob sat at the table, half-listening, but his eyes were elsewhere.

He watched from across the room as Y/N leaned against the kitchen counter next to Bucky, their heads close, whispering about something. She laughed, playfully elbowing Bucky. Bob’s jaw tightened before he dropped his gaze.

"Someone’s brooding," Yelena whisper, plopping beside him.

"I’m not brooding," Bob said quickly.

Yelena gave him a look. "Then you’re jealous. It’s okay. Jealousy suits you. Kinda makes your eyes sparkle."

"I’m not jealous either."

"Oh, Bob," she said. "Everyone sees it. Except maybe Y/N. But she’s love-blind, poor thing."

Bob scoffed, looked up again, catching a glimpse of Y/N handing Bucky a cup of coffee, their fingers brushing.

Or maybe their fingers hadn't been brushed and he was just seeing what he wanted. But it wasn't easy to separate reality from his feelings when that heavy voice in his head whispered to him.

"Wow, she's already tired of you? I'd say I'm surprised, but I'm actually not at all. It was just a matter of time, Bob. Sooner or later she was going to see that you're not really worth it."

Later that day, everyone was in the common room. Bob watched them chatting from the pouf that was in front of the window. They were both focused on a board game that Yelena had impulsively bought a while ago and left forgotten on a shelf. Y/N said something and grinned. Bucky actually laughed.

Bob gripped the book in his hands, fingers tightening as he got up and fled to his room.

He didn’t know that five minutes later, Y/N and Bucky took advantage of the moment alone to talk about him.

"I don’t know if I’m waiting for him to make the first move," Y/N admitted, "or if I’m just too scared of what it would mean if I did."

Bucky look at the board in front of him, thoughtful. "So you're not afraid of confession, just of rejection? Wow, I don't think anyone has ever felt that way in the history of humanity."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm Barnes," Y/N said, voice barely a whisper. "But, yeah. Exactly."

"You won’t lose him. Even if it goes bad. Some people are just… Permanent. Even when things are a mess."

Y/N looked over at Bucky, smiling a little. "Thanks for being my therapist. I feel like I should start paying you per session."

He waved her off.

The next night Y/N was walking out of the kitchen, mug in hand. Bob was coming down the hall, almost bumping into her.

"Hey," she said, surprised.

"Hey," Bob replied, but the word was heavy.

They stood there in silence for a moment.

"You okay?" she asked. Bob hadn't shown up in her room for the past two days, nor had he given her any indication that he wanted her to come to his.

"Yeah," he lied. "Just needed water."

"Kitchen’s yours," Y/N said, stepping aside.

As he passed her, she looked back. His posture was tight, shoulders tense. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and then walked back out of the kitchen to his room, although he stopped halfway and returned to the kitchen, to her.

Bob couldn’t stop himself when he opened his mouth.

"You and Bucky are close," he said casually, lying on the wall on his side, pretending to be more focused on the bottle in his hand.

She hesitated. "Yeah. He’s been… Good to talk to."

Bob nodded slowly, avoiding her eyes. "That’s good."

"Why do I feel like you’re mad about it?" She asked delicately, placing her teacup on the counter and walking towards him.

"I’m not."

"You’re a bad liar Reynolds." she joked.

He simply shook his head, turning around and walking back to his room. Leaving a very stocky Y/N behind.

Y/N let out a sigh, taking the bottle Bob had left behind and walking slowly to her room, there was no way in hell she was going to let this go. She stood outside Bob's door, her arms crossed, her jaw set in a way that said she wasn't leaving until she got answers.

She knocked, short and firm.

No response.

"Bob," she called, not unkindly, but not with her usual softness either. "I just want you to know that I'm not leaving until you open."

A beat.

Then the soft shuffle of feet and the quiet creak of the door. His dark hair was disheveled, and the shadows under his eyes were darker than usual. He blinked at her, surprised but not surprised.

"What?" he said.

"Can I come in?"

Bob hesitated, then stepped aside. "Yeah. Sure."

She walked past him and into his room. It was dim, the curtains drawn, the bed unmade. A familiar place, one that usually felt safe. But not now, at least not completely.

Y/N turned to face him. "So are you gonna tell me why you just ignored me, or do I have to guess?"

Bob rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't- that wasn't ignoring, I just went back to my room because I was sleepy."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe I ignored you a little. I just... I don’t know. I’ve had a rough few days."

She crossed her arms. "That's not all, though. You've been weird for more than a few days, Bob. You barely look at me when we train. You don't sit with me during meals anymore. I walked into the kitchen the other day and you left like it was on fire. What’s going on?"

He sighed and flopped down on his bed, sitting against the headboard. "I don’t know. I guess I’ve been in my head."

Y/N didn’t move for a second. Then she toed off her shoes and crawled up onto the bed next to him, mirroring his position.

"I hate when you do that," she said.

"Do what?"

"Act like nothing’s wrong when something’s eating you alive."

Bob tilted his head toward her, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage. "You know me too well."

"I do. So talk to me."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, with a slow exhale, he said, "I guess I just... I’ve been feeling like I’m on the outside again. Like the rest of you are this unit and I’m still just... me."

"Bob," she said softly. "That’s not true."

"I know it’s not," he said quickly. "It’s just... in my head, like I said. And maybe I saw you and Bucky talking a lot lately, and it got into my head even more."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "Bucky?"

"Yeah," Bob said, avoiding her eyes. "I mean, it’s none of my business. You two get along. That’s cool. He’s good at listening, I guess. And you’ve been spending time with him. It’s fine. I just... I guess I felt like maybe you didn’t need me as much."

YN was quiet for a moment. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder. "You’re an idiot."

He huffed a laugh. "Probably."

"You think I’ve been hanging out with Bucky because I don’t need you? Bob, I talk to Bucky about you. I mean, not all the time. But, y'know."

Bob turned his head to look at her. "Wait... about me? What do you mean?"

She looked up at him, eyes soft but unwavering. "I’ve been talking to him about how much I care about you. And about how I'm proud of how much you've come since we met and stuff like that."

Bob stared at her, dumbfounded. He was silent for a long moment. Then: "Holy shit."

Y/N smirked. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

Bob laughed, the kind of laugh that broke tension like a dam breaking. It was pure relief.

"I'm sorry. I- I didn't know. Sorry."

She leaned her head against his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her. They stayed like that, just breathing, letting the silence wrap around them like a blanket.

"You still feeling bad?" she asked quietly.

"Less now," he said. "A lot less."

[morpheusbaby3]

Guilt and Lullabies (pt.2)

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Late at night Bob decides to confront Y/N.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader. Just tooth-rotting fluff.

Word count: 1,5k

Authors note: English is not my first language.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The tower was still, silent in the thick hours after midnight. Moonlight filtered through the narrow hallway windows, casting pale shadows across the cold floors. Most of the team had gone to sleep, their rooms dark, their doors shut. Bob moved quietly, barefoot, dressed in one of the many sweater Y/N had jokingly claimed made him look like a comfortable teddy bear .

He found himself standing outside her door, hand hesitating near the handle. He’d come with the intention of asking— more like confronting Y/N about what Bucky had let slip earlier that day. It had been a passing comment, trying to explain to others her situation, but one that dug in deep in Bob:

"The more she uses it, the more tired she gets."

And Bob knew. He just knew. It wasn’t just the toll of using her powers all day for a million different reasons, it was because of him. He thought of all the calm that washed over him and the gentle way his nightmares ebbed when she was by his side every night, and how that cost her.

And she’d never told him.

And she did tell Bucky, which was kind of annoying for Bob, but he didn't want to think about that right now.

So now, hours after she woke up from her nap somewhat guilty because she had left Walker waiting again, Bob stood outside her door, his heart hammering in his chest. He knocked —soft, more of a tap really—, standing in the darkness waiting for permission to enter, even though he had been there most nights.

Inside, her room was dark save for the soft yellow light of a reading lamp, although she wasn't reading at all. Y/N frowned when she heard the door, however she knew it was Bob, so she just stared at the door for a second until it opened.

When Bob heard the door unlock, he opened it gently, the weight on his chest growing heavier when he saw her.

Y/N was already curled in bed, her hair fanned out against the pillow, her breaths slow but uneven, like someone drifting near sleep but not quite there. Her bedside lamp was still on, casting a dim amber glow over her features. The moment he stepped into the room, her eyes fluttered open slowly.

It was an image he had seen hundreds of times before, but now that he knew the reason behind it, the reason behind her exhaustion, he wasn't so sure the pressure in his chest was anything more than guilt.

He stepped in. Quietly. Like she was glass and the slightest sound vibration would make it crack.

"Y/N?"

"Hey," she murmured, voice husky with near-sleep. Her eyes opened, sleep-heavy and slow. She blinked once. Then smiled a little.

Bob crossed the room. He wanted to talk. Wanted to ask why she hadn’t told him. Why she hadn’t let him carry some of the weight. But when he saw the smudge of exhaustion under her eyes, the way her body sank into the mattress like she hadn’t rested in weeks, the words caught in his throat.

"You okay?" she murmured.

Bob stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep."

"Sure. C'mon." Y/N sat up slightly, brushing her hair from her face.

"No," Bob said quickly, stepping toward her bed. "I actually, I- I’d rather not. Not use them tonight. I just… I still want to be here, if that’s okay. Can I stay?"

Her brow twitched, just a little, confused by his request. But then she nodded slowly, the smile softening into something more serious.

"You never have to ask."

He slid in beside her, the bed dipping beneath his weight. They lay back to back for a minute, quiet, breathing. Neither of them moved. Neither of them slept. The silence stretched, gentle and comfortable. Outside the window, the hum of wind against the tower filled the space between them.

"I- uh... I found out something today," Bob said suddenly. His voice barely rose above a whisper. He grimaced as the words left his mouth. He wanted to talk, but that wasn't the best way to start the conversation.

"Yeah?" Y/N turned slightly, looking at him intrigued.

"You’re tired," Bob finally said, not looking at her.

She gave a quiet huff of laughter, interrupting him. "What a surprise Bob."

"Because of me." He continued, ignoring her mockery tone.

Y/N stiffened. Her gaze never left the ceiling, trying to think of what to say.

"Bucky?"

He nodded.

"Well," Y/N said, adjusting the blanket around herself, "That is true. But not in a blaming way. I chose to help you."

"I didn’t know it made things worse for you."

She smiled, tired but honest. "You didn't know because I didn't tell you, Bob."

"Then why not just tell me?" He looked down at their hands between them, their sides were touching, and if he stretched his pinky finger just a little, he could intertwine it with hers. But instead, he remained still.

"I didn’t want you to feel guilty," she said after thinking for a few seconds. "Although I guess you feel more guilty now."

"Well, yeah." he said. "It costs you. Doesn’t it?"

She looked at him then, meeting his eyes in the low light. "Yeah. It does."

"Then don’t," he said. "Not tonight. Not anymore. Just be here. That’s enough for me. You being by my side. You drive away the bad thoughts."

She exhaled softly. Not quite a sigh. Just release. Just trying to calm her racing heart. And nodded.

A few minutes passed and no one said anything else. They both just stared at the ceiling, in the darkness, each on their respective sides of the bed, tense and not moving a muscle.

"It's hard without help, isn't it?" Y/N whispered after a few seconds, her gaze focused on the ceiling. "I mean, once you get used to it, to use them."

"You... You need your- uhm. Y'know, your abilities, to sleep?" Bob asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, without turning his head.

"Actually, I can't use my abilities on myself. It doesn't work."

"So what do you do when you can't sleep then?"

Only one answer came to her mind immediately, like a reflex, Y/N let out an embarrassed grunt at the thought and brought her hands to her face to cover it.

"It's damn embarrassing."

That earned a curious look from Bob. He turned his head slightly, looking expectantly for her to start talking.

"Well..." He insisted.

"One of the few memories I have of my mom is... Is her singing me to sleep— well, it's actually quite blurry in my mind, I can't even picture it, it's just the sound of her voice, the feeling of her hand stroking my hair..." A few seconds passed until she spoke again. "Anyway. Uhm, when I can't sleep... I, sometimes, hum the song to myself."

They both fall silent for a few seconds. Bob's heart somehow beats faster as he imagines a half-asleep Y/N, comfortable in her bed, wrapped in her blankets and pillows that smelled of vanilla, eyes closed and humming to herself.

God, he was a goner for her.

He cleared his throat. "What song?"

She hesitated, then smiled, bittersweet. And began to hum.

Low and soft, almost hesitant.

Then her voice broke through, quiet and raw:

"You're just too good to be true… Can't take my eyes off you…"

Bob froze, breath caught somewhere between his ribs. Her voice was soft, like cotton and candlelight. Not perfect—but real. Honest. Honest in a way that cracked something open in him. A little rough, not polished, but soft and full of something that felt like memory and comfort and safety.

She kept singing.

"At long last love has arrived… And I thank God I'm alive…”

Bob closed his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of lullaby you’d expect, but somehow it was perfect.

"Pardon the way that I stare. There's nothing else to compare..."

Bob whispered the next part with her, almost involuntarily, as if his mind, already fallen asleep, knew that this meant something to him. To them.

"But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true"

His breathing slowed. She could feel it. But she kept singing, humming the next line as Bob shifted closer until their sides touched. Their fingers tangled naturally, like they’d done this a hundred times. Like they belonged like this.

"I love you, baby. And if it's quite all right, I need you, baby. To warm a lonely night…"

Y/N didn’t know when she stopped, was on the verge of unconsciousness. She only remembered the feeling: his arms unconsciously slipping around her, his chest rising and falling gently against hers, their bodies tangled together under the sheets, her cheek against his shoulder. The weight of him beside her wasn’t heavy. It was grounding.

There were no powers that night. No dreamwalking. No mind manipulation. Not even the Void.

Just skin. Warmth. Safety.

And when sleep came, it came easy.

They slept in peace.

Together.

[morpheusbaby3]

Trust me

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: After much insistence, Bob agrees to a training session with Y/N.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader. Bob's Power Training.

Word count: 900

Authors note: Not edited

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The conversation about Bob's telekinesis kept happening. Sometimes late at night when Bob couldn’t sleep. Sometimes after missions, when someone makes a comment about how helpful Bob would have been. Sometimes in the kitchen, when Y/N would float him a cup of tea with her mind and he’d flinch without meaning to.

Eventually, he caved. Not fully. But enough.

And their first session was... Clumsy.

The Watchtower’s training room was cold that morning, colder than usual. Maybe it was just Bob’s nerves, or maybe it was the knowledge that today, he’d agreed to something he never thought he would.

Training. With Y/N. Using his powers again after three months since the whole Sentry/Void situation.

She stood by the window, arms folded, watching the city fall into winter. She wasn’t nervous. Or if she was, she didn’t show it. She rarely did. Calm, calm, calm. Always composed, especially when he was a mess.

“Still time to back out,” Bob offered from the doorway.

She glanced over her shoulder, not smiling, but not unkind. “No, there’s not.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“You’re the one who said yes.” She turned to face him fully.

“Under pressure."

She arched a brow. “If you do this I'll take you to dinner wherever you want.”

“Great, try and manipulate me.”

"Oh, c'mon." She walked toward the center of the room, gesturing for him to follow. “You agreed. One session. Easy. You move something, maybe you try to lift it. I don’t expect you to rearrange the building.”

Bob stepped in hesitantly, shoulders tense. “What if I lose control?”

“Then we stop,” she said simply. “And try again tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond.

She picked up a small wooden cube from her pocket and set it on the table in front of them.

"We’re going to start with this.”

“You know, when I said I wasn’t ready, I didn’t mean ‘give me a baby’s toy.’”

"That's how I started." Y/N smirked. “You’re welcome to try lifting me instead, if you think this is stupid.”

His eyes flicked to her, muttering to himself.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

He focused on the cube. Breathing in. Breathing out. He reached into that part of his mind he hated, the warm hum of power that lived beneath the surface. Sentry’s power. The same place the Void sometimes stirred.

Bob stared at it. He’d done it before. By accident. By instinct. But doing it now felt different. Deliberate. Dangerous.

He knew why he didn't want to do it, or in fact, he knew why he didn't want to do it with her. Failing in front of her or hurting her, either sounded like hell to him.

“I don’t know if-”

“Just do it. Don't think. You have to feel it."

His brow furrowed. He raised his hand a little. Y/N tried to concentrate, suppressing a smile at Bob's move. She did the same thing when she was a child, to have better control over her powers. Dramatic now that she looked back on it.

The cube trembled.

It hovered. An inch. Then two.

Then suddenly it shot across the room and embedded itself in the wall with a thud.

“See?! That’s what I’m talking about!” Bob stepped back immediately.

“Bob...”

“I launched it like a missile!”

“It’s a cube. Bob. You're not going to kill anyone with that."

“You say that now. What if it had been you?”

“Then you would’ve stopped yourself.” She stepped toward him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” He shook his head, overwhelmed. But she kept talking. "I know you have it inside you to control it."

“I can’t do this. I can’t be the Sentry. Because being him means being that thing, too.”

Y/N grimaced, knowing that it was a very sensitive topic for him.

"Bob, I’m not asking you to be Sentry. I'm not asking you to get out and put on that little golden suit and go save people." She touched his arm, searching his eyes so he could see that she was serious. “I’m asking you to be you, just with a little more control.”

“You don’t get it.” His voice cracked. “You don't know what it's like to live knowing what I did, the people I hurt last time. I- I don't want it to happen again."

“And you don’t know what I’ve done to survive." Her voice dropped. "I've hurt people too, and unlike you, I made it conscious of my actions and how I used my abilities... Bob, we have to work together and trust each other in this. You have to trust me."

He blinked. She blinked. They were close, closer than they had ever been being conscious. Not asleep. Then she stepped back, creating space.

“Okay. We stop for today. You kept it in the air for two seconds longer than I imagined. That’s a win.”

“I know it was the first time, but have a little faith in me.” Bob joked, trying to take some of the tension out of the room.

“Today was baseline. Tomorrow, we shoot for three seconds.”

He let out a tired laugh, wiping his face with his hands. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Not on you. No."

Bob swallowed hard. She didn’t say it like a promise. She said it like a fact. The most obvious truth in the world.

“I’m still scared,” he admitted, watching as she walked to the other end of the room to get the wooden cube.

“Good. Means you’re not reckless. Once you fear it, the only thing left to do is control it."

“But you’re not scared.”

“Bob, I was born with this, I’ve had longer to make peace with it. But I was scared. For a long time.”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you. For not giving up on me.”

“I’d never do that. I swear.”

And she meant it.

Helping Bob control his powers wasn’t just about taming the Sentry or avoiding the Void. It was about helping him believe in himself. Believe that he wasn’t the sum of his fears.

That maybe, with enough patience, control, and support, he could just be Bob. Powers and all.

And Y/N would be right there with him. Every step of the way.

[morpheusbaby3]

Darkness visits my dreams

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Void thinks it's time to pay Bob's sleep aide a little visit.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader, Y/N's past, child kidnapping, mentions of violence, all happens in dream state. IS VOID WE'RE DEALING WITH HERE, you guys should know what to expect, he himself is a warning.

Word count: 2,5k

Authors note: I was going to post it later, but I'm really proud of this one. I really enjoyed writing this.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

Y/N had helped Bob fall asleep countless times in the past two months. Her dreamwalking powers made the transition seamless, fluid. She'd drift into his mind carefully, like a whisper, soothing the cracks in his consciousness, gently guiding him into restful oblivion. But tonight felt off.

Bob had been tense all day.

Tense in that tightly wound, shoulder-heavy way he got when something was stirring beneath the surface. Y/N had felt it during lunch, when his laugh sounded a touch too forced, out of place, as if he wasn't paying attention and was just laughing because everyone else was doing it. She’d felt it again when he sat beside her on the couch that afternoon and leaned in too close, like proximity might shield him from whatever was clawing at his insides.

So when he asked —barely above a whisper— "Can we tonight?" while they were washing the dinner dishes, she just nodded.

Bob's room was dark but calm, with the faint hum of a white noise machine in the background. Y/N sat cross-legged in the bed, the back of their hands touching, eyes half-lidded.

Bob was asleep. Finally. After forty minutes of pacing and muttered apologies because he couldn't sleep and fractured thoughts, he’d dropped off like a stone. Y/N had stayed, as she usually did, just in case. She was tethered to his mind gently, carefully. A presence without weight, like a warm hand on a shoulder. She wasn’t intruding. Just watching over him.

And as she hovered on the edge of his subconscious, Y/N realized something was wrong.

The landscape of Bob’s dreamspace was usually calm. Or at least familiar for her: fields of golden light, warm breezes, fleeting flashes of comfort. During the first few times she helped Bob, he had confessed to her that he had no memories that gave him comfort. Sure, he had good memories, but none of them actually comforted him. So they had both worked to create a good mental space where Bob could feel safe in his dreams.

Tonight, although, it was a cold, infinite black. There was no up. No down. No floor beneath her feet. No air in her lungs, and yet she breathed. Nothing to see, and yet she saw.

"Bob?" she whispered, trying to anchor herself. "Where are you?"

A ripple.

Then a voice.

Not Bob's. But similar.

"He’s not home right now."

The voice made her stomach drop.

It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t loud. It was amused. Terrifyingly calm.

She turned instinctively, spinning herself in the dark, her guard high, until the air thickened behind her. She turned again—

And he was there.

The Void.

She had tried to erase everything she experienced almost three months ago when Void tried to take control of New York. Y/N had spent what felt like an eternity in a maze of rooms, filled with her worst memories. And then learning about Bob's past, having to go through his bad memories, facing Void.

All of that was bad. But the worst was the fact that she felt, she knew, that she couldn't use her abilities there. Not against him.

He looked like Bob and yet didn’t. Just a black silhouette. Broader somehow, maybe it was the posture. His white pupils glowed not with the warmth she was used to see in Bob's, but with hunger. His smile was unnoticeable and bone-chilling at the same time. The shadows clung to him like a second skin.

"You’ve been very busy, haven’t you, little dreamwalker?"

Y/N didn’t speak. Her throat felt tight. Her powers, which normally hummed around her like a gentle current, had shrunk inward, useless.

Void stepped closer, his bare feet making no sound against the non-existent ground. "Helping him sleep. Easing his mind. Guiding his dreams. So intimate. So... So careful."

She tried to take a step back, but her feet wouldn't move, muscles locked in a fight between freeze and flight, both screaming at once. Her body simply did not obey her, as it did not belong to her. Y/N was nailed there, a statue he could destroy if he wanted.

"You’re wondering what this is, aren’t you? Why you’re seeing me now."

"You're not supposed to be here," she finally managed to say, voice shaking. "Bob’s asleep. That means you’re—"

"Contained?" Void tilted his head. "Darling, if you think sleep is a cage, you’ve underestimated me."

He circled her now, slow, deliberate. A lion about to attack its prey was nothing like the this. His voice pouring out mockery.

"Bob lets you in because he stupidly trusts you. And you stupidly trust him. That is beautiful. But trust is a door. And you, sweet Y/N, left it wide open for me."

She wanted to snap at him, to fight, but she couldn’t gauge how. This wasn’t a physical space. Her skills in the dream world weren’t built to combat the Void.

"Why are you here?" she asked, turning to face him.

His dark eyes flickered. "Curiosity. Boredom. Maybe just loneliness. You’ve been in his mind so often, I thought it was time I invited you into mine."

"This isn’t your mind. This is his."

"Ah, but we share. More than he’d like to admit." His tone oozed condescension, mockery of her. “I am part of him. Closer than breath, deeper than blood. We share a brain, a body, a soul, such as it is. You, on the other hand, are a trespasser.”

He moved in front of her, stopping just inches away. She could feel his energy now, cold and heavy, like dry ice pressing against her skin and burning her.

"He dreams of you, you know."

Y/N's chest tightened.

"Even when he tries not to. Even when he leaves your bed because he's afraid you'll see... He spends the whole night thinking about you afterward. The little puzzle he can't solve. The little girl he can't have."

Her chest felt like it was caught in a vice, each breath shallow and ragged, as if the air around her has thickened into something unbreathable. Her heart slammed against her ribs —too fast, too hard— like it was trying to escape. A tremor running through her limbs, barely visible, but present in her hands and legs.

Y/N just shook her head. She couldn't believe him. Void use the deepest thoughts in her mind to play with her. There was no way Bob wouldn't think of her that way, that he dreamed of her, that he wanted her.

"You know it. The way he looks at you. The way he flinches when your hand brushes his. Poor man doesn’t know whether to worship you or just run away from you." His voice was now in her mind, reaching the deepest spaces, racing her heart with fear.

"Stop," she said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm. Or at least tried to be.

"It wouldn't be the first time that someone you want, you need, walks away from you, right?" The outline of his smile showed the satisfaction he was feeling at that moment, savoring his next words, knowing they would be a hard blow to her. "Mommy left you in the hands of those bad men cause she didn't love you enough to fight for you. If your own mother doesn't love you, then what does that say to us? What does that say about you?... You're loveless, Y/N."

"I said stop."

Void smiled wider. He circled her again, slowly, reveling in her growing desperation.

"How about a little walk around that pretty little head of yours, huh? I know you had a good time the last time we saw each other."

He stood behind her, one of his hands coming up to her jaw to hold her in place, as if she weren't already paralyzed.

Then, a small, desperate scream sounded in the distance.

Then closer.

Closer.

Until Y/N couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Y/N now! Run! Run!"

She froze.

Her stomach churns, folding in on itself with a nausea that rises like bile in her throat. There's a buzzing in her ears, like static, and the world feels distant—muffled, warped—like she's underwater. Her vision temporarily blurs when faint warm lights appear from the darkness. Once she adjusts her gaze, she trembles as she recognizes where she was, where he had taken her.

“No,” she said. “No, you don’t get to—”

Suddenly, she was back in that old, damp motel room where she and her mom had been living for the past few weeks before NEST took her. Y/N remembered the hard, uncomfortable bed, the curtains that let in all the sunlight in the mornings, and the broken heater that emitted an almost muffled but persistent noise that kept them awake at night.

She tried to hold on to the sensations, tried to ignore the scene in front of her, but Void's cold, black hand on her jaw was making of that an impossible task.

Her mother was sitting on the bed, being held down by one of the so-called "social workers" who had come to visit them that night. She knew something was wrong; she could feel it, so she forced Y/N to hide in the small piece of furniture next to the door, that way she would have a better chance of escaping.

A little four-year-old Y/N —long hair tied in that braid she loved only because her mom did for her, chubby cheeks streaked with tears, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty— came out of hiding quickly and clumsily.

Y/N felt a sharp pain on the back of her neck, caused by the force with which Void had turned her head in the opposite direction, following the path of her smaller self.

"Come on, you don't want to miss this part," his voice murmured inside her head.

Like a fade-out, she had gone from inside the room to outside, standing at the side of the parking lot. Little Y/N walked down the stairs with all the caution a four-year-old can have while being chased by an adult.

Anxiety rose from her chest to her throat when that man grabbed her arm; she could feel the imprint of that grip on her own arm. But Little Y/N just turned away, and a force field she couldn't control pushed the man away from her.

"Run, you're wasting time," she thought, seeing her younger self hesitate for a second upon seeing the man lying against the stairs.

More than twenty years had passed since that day, and every time she tried to remember it, she only found blurry fragments. Now, seeing everything so clearly, she longed to return to those vague memories.

Finally, Little Y/N was knocked down in the middle of the parking lot, her right cheek scraping from the hard contact with the asphalt —which transformed into a bruise that lasted her first week at NEST— as well as her knees and part of her left forearm that served as support when she fell.

The pain was nothing compared to the despair.

The man above her quickly placed his hand over her mouth, silencing her screams and sobs, rushing to inject a syringe into her neck, knocking her out instantly.

“Stop!” Y/N snapped, and the projection stuttered, but didn’t stop.

Void leaned in close. His breath was ice.

“You carry this in your spine like a scar. And he, your precious Bob, thinks you’re untouchable. Like you’re carved from peace. You are not. You’re just as fractured as he is. And I see it. I feel it.”

Suddenly his hand had disappeared from her neck, but he was still behind, still imponent.

"You're a tough nut to crack Y/N." Void muttered behind her. "You were one of the toughest last time, I'll give you that."

Her fingers go numb, tingling, as if they don't belong to her. Sweat clings cold to her skin despite the heat burning in her chest and face. Her mouth is dry, too dry, but her throat constricts like she’s swallowed fear itself.

"You should know what you’re dealing into. You think Bob is that caring and sweet guy, but he's me, too. All this darkness? It’s not just mine. It’s his. You just haven’t seen him whole yet."

Something surged inside her. Her fear didn’t vanish, but it shrank as she exhaled.

She clenched her fists, channeling the small flickers of her power, trying. The darkness around her began to consume her, wrapping itself around her throat, preventing her from breathing.

"If you’re trying to scare me away from him," she said, holding her voice steady, "it won’t work."

Void blinked slowly, like a cat watching a mouse refuse to run, even if it was in its clutches.

“We are the same, you and I. Keep peeling back those layers. We’ll see what’s underneath.”

Then, as suddenly as he appeared, Void vanished.

The dark dreamscape rippled. The air shifted. And like light returning to a black room, the familiar warm haze of Bob’s consciousness started to pour back in.

Y/N gasped, grounding herself.

She felt him now. Bob, not Void. He was deeper in sleep, unconscious, unaware of what had just happened. Protected, for now.

Slowly —and after allowing herself a moment to calm her racing heart—, Y/N withdrew from the dream gently, careful not to disturb his rest. When she opened her eyes, she was still sitting beside him in bed, her fingers loosely grabbing his wrist.

She looked at his sleeping face, peaceful, trusting, and for the first time, she truly understood what he carried inside.

[morpheusbaby3]

You don't look at your friends that way

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Bob and Y/N have an small argument because he won't let her help him. And an old man in a coffee shop makes a comment that leaves Bob thinking.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader.

Word count: 1.4k

Authors note: It was supposed to be a drabble, I don't know what's wrong with me.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

It had started as a coincidence. The first time Alexei had taken over the kitchen, he’d prepared something so questionable that everyone in the tower found a reason to disappear. Y/N had grabbed her jacket and headed for the elevator, hoping the fresh air would distract her stomach from the memory of whatever Russian stew Alexei had served. To her surprise, Bob had been in the common room, with his hands in his coat pockets, looking at the elevator doors waiting for them to open.

“Let me guess,” Y/N had said as she zipped up her hoodie, “Alexei’s cooking?”

Bob had looked over with that sheepish smile of his. “Is it that obvious?”

Y/N didn't even say anything, she simply nodded for him to follow her to the elevator once the door open.

They’d walked together that day, quietly at first. Just two people escaping culinary doom. But somewhere between a shared plate of fries at a nearby diner and a conversation about classic movies Bob saw as a child and he swore that she should know —totally ignoring the fact that she spent eleven years of her childhood in a laboratory—, something shifted. It became... Comfortable. Natural.

Since then, every time Alexei volunteered to cook, Bob and Y/N would share a look across the room, just a brief glance, like a silent agreement. Coats on. Shoes laced. Out the tower.

Their walks weren’t always about food. Sure, they had their favorite spots: the taco truck two blocks over, the corner ramen shop with mismatched chairs, a tiny hindu place with handwritten menus. But more than that, it was about the space those walks gave them. The time. The quiet.

Something about the rhythm of footsteps, the safe distance from the tower’s chaos, made they less guarded. She told Bob about her favorite books, about the kinds of dreams she had when she wasn’t using her powers, about how she didn’t remember her mother’s face but remembered the sound of her laugh.

And Bob talked, too. Sometimes with humor, other times with heavy silences he filled only when he was ready. He spoke about getting sober. About how scared he was to trust himself again.

This was their routine. It was their time. Simple. Easy. Mostly.

Except today wasn’t entirely easy.

Among the chaos and instability of the team, the delicate balance of personalities and powers, Y/N was the only other person in the Thunderbolts/New Avengers with telekinesis. And while her powers were far more refined, intuitive, and controlled, it wasn’t lost on anyone that if someone could help Bob, it would be her.

They’d been dancing around the subject for months. Since the first incident in the training room after they move in, where his powers had flared unexpectedly —sending a bench flying across the room and nearly crashing into Walker— it had been clear that something needed to be done. But when Val suggested Y/N step in to help him learn some control over his telekinesis, Bob flat-out refused.

Because Bob didn’t want help. Not with that. Not from her.

"You know we'll have to try eventually," Y/N said as they strolled past a flower shop, the smell of so many flowers sweet in the autumn air.

Bob tensed. "What?"

"I know you don't like to talk about this, but it's important." she said. Calmly. Patiently. "And I’m the only other person on the team who has telekinesis, so yeah, it kinda makes sense I’d help you train."

He looked away. “It’s not just that.”

“I know it’s not just that. But-"

“No,” Bob said with a harsh tone. “I don’t want to be him again. No.”

“You’re not him,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. “You’re you. But those powers, they’re yours too, and you need to-”

He shook his head, hand rubbing his face. “That’s the problem. The more I use them, the more I feel like— like him. Like I’m opening a door I can’t close.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. She understood fear. Deeply. Intimately. Her powers had been used and twisted and experimented on by people who never cared about who she was beneath them. She knew what it felt like to be afraid of yourself, of what you could do.

“I’m not saying we have to go all in,” she said carefully. “But maybe we try something small. Controlled. You don’t have to do this alone, Bob... And even if you slip, I- we're here and we're going to get you."

He gave her a look. “That’s not how it works. You don't know what this is.”

“I don't know what it is? Really?” she said, frowning. Her tone was more than hurt, it was simply disappointed. “Yes, of course. You're right. I have no idea how it feels, how it is to have this thing inside you that you don't know how to control while other people are expecting for you to do it.”

Bob looked at her embarrassed, understanding the weight his words had had on her. He didn't know much about her past, no one on the team knew much about it. The only person remotely informed about it was Val, and she didn't care. But one thing Bob did know was that, despite having escaped from NEST ten years ago, anything remotely related to her time there affected her, a lot.

"N-no, Y/N- I didn't..." he muttered. “I just…”

She sighed, refusing to hear him because she was really offended. They had reached the coffee shop in a cozy corner place with string lights in the windows and the warm smell of cinnamon wafting through the doors. Bob hurried and opened it for her, and they stepped inside, the quiet hum of indie music replacing the city noise.

The line was short, thankfully. Y/N rubbed her temples. “I just want to help, Bob.”

Bob looked down at the floor tiles, then at the chalkboard menu.

She murmured something about going to the bathroom and slipped away before he could reply.

Bob took a slow breath and stepped forward in line.

That’s when the man in front of him, gray-haired, wearing a button-up sweater and smelling faintly of something woody, turned around with a soft smile.

“Don't look like that, boy. Fighting with your girl always feels worse when you’re young." The man said, a chuckle coming out of him. “The bathroom thing, my wife did the same, and still does. Don't worry, your girlfriend just needs some time.”

Bob blinked. “Oh. Uh. No. She’s not- we’re not together.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really,” Bob said, clearing his throat. “We’re just friends.”

The man chuckled, amused. “Could’ve fooled me. You don’t look at your friends that way.”

Bob went still.

The man turned back around, still humming quietly to himself.

Bob didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away from the bathroom door either.

His thoughts led him to the conversation he had with Yelena a couple of days ago, she told him that he wasn't being subtle in his feelings, and now a stranger basically guessed it just from how he looked at her.

The man had even thought they were together!

He would be lying if he denied that the mere thought of being with her like that made his stomach turn, in a good way.

That only made him feel worse about the argument.

And that gave way to not very good thoughts, that voice deep inside him whispered mockingly:

“Are you worried she'll realize how screw you really are after this? Cause you messed up, like you mess up everything.”

He was still spiraling when Y/N emerged from the hallway, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she approached.

"Did I miss our turn?" she said, slipping into the spot beside him. Noticing him leaning nervously against the side of the bar.

Bob turned to her, face a little flushed. "Uh. Yeah. I... I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay. But if you want to change the order-"

Her brows lifted slightly. "You order for me?"

"I just- you usually get the chai latte with oat milk, right? And the blueberry scone? I just figured..."

She tilted her head, studying him for a second that felt like much longer, and then, slowly, an almost unnoticeable smile curved her lips. Not a smirk, not one of her teasing looks, this was something gentler, warmer. Surprised, but not displeased.

"Thank you. I mean it. That was really thoughtful."

"Y/N, listen, I didn't mean to-"

The barista called out their names, and Bob quickly grabbed the tray with their drinks and the pastry. They found a small table in the back corner, near a window that let in a soft morning light. Y/N took her cup, inspecting it like she might find something new about it.

She took a sip, then another, and made the tiniest contented noise in her throat. The exact one Bob had heard a dozen times before.

He smiled to himself, sipping his tea, his nerves starting to ease.

"So..." Y/N said, resting her chin on one hand, "I'm sorry, for earlier."

Bob nearly choked on his tea. "Uh. I—uh..."

"No, let me talk." She interrupted him with a murmur. She didn't look up from her drink, embarrassed by her earlier behavior. "I don't know what it's like to have that... Darkness, inside you. But I know what it's like to be afraid of you and what you can do. And the best way to overcome that fear is to control it. And I... Bob, I don't want you to feel that way."

He glanced up at her, that nervous grin playing on his lips. "I- I shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have downgraded your experience... You know more about this than I do after all. "

"I know you're scared, Bob." she said, voice low, eyes not leaving his. "I shouldn't have pressured you, it's your decision."

And with that, the world outside the coffee shop melted into background noise. They wouldn't come to an agreement that day. Or the next.

They just sat there, sipping warm drinks and basking in the quiet comfort of being with each other, on good terms.

[morpheusbaby3]

Sentry and Void opinions of Y/N

Too Good To Be True series

Word count: less than 500

Authors Note: The lyrics are from Soda Stereo. I think they just capture the vibe. And I had to translate them to match the aesthetics, which I am not proud of because my language is beautiful.

Bodies of light. Running through the sky. Crystals of yellow love. I won't let you be cold. I could warm you.

SENTRY’s Opinion of Y/N:

Sentry, being the embodiment of Bob's idealized self, would likely adore Y/N.

He would be deeply captivated by her, almost to the point of worship. To him, she represents safety, goodness, and emotional clarity, all things Bob desperately craves but can’t hold onto himself.

Sentry sees Y/N as incredibly strong, not just in her abilities, but in her discipline, compassion, and emotional control. He admires how she walks the line between vulnerability and strength with him —well, with Bob—, and especially how she uses her powers to help rather than to dominate.

He kinda also has a strong protector instinct with her, amplified by the fact that Y/N is one of the few people Bob genuinely trusts. If anyone were to hurt her, Sentry would be ruthless.

I can also see that, in a certain way, he thinks he deserves Y/N more than Bob does. Sentry thinks that Bob is too fragile, too damaged to give Y/N what she needs. He is strong, powerful, capable of protecting her from anything.

He’d never hurt her, but he could try to take over. If Bob were ever too unstable, Sentry could try to assert himself more often, spurred by the belief that he can love Y/N better, more completely, more powerfully.

Pain is poison, love. And you won't feel it until the end, as long as you move slowly and gasp the name that kills.

VOID'S Opinion of Y/N:

Void is trickier, we know he's not just the "evil version" of Sentry, he's the embodiment of fear, self-destruction, and instability. And his opinion on Y/N would be layered and twisted.

I think Void might be fascinated by Y/N, not out of affection, but because he senses she has power over Bob. Emotional power. Something he can’t easily destroy. And that irritates him. He’d think of her as a weakness to exploit... But he wouldn’t be able to look away. The love Bob starts to feel for her leaks into the Void's consciousness, and -unlike Sentry- he resents it.

The peace Y/N gives Bob? That trust, that love, that calm? It’s the antithesis of Void’s existence.

She helps Bob sleep. She makes Bob laugh. She gives Bob hope. To Void, this is unforgivable. So he hates her, in that way only something deeply broken can hate what heals.

And he craves her at the same time. He wants Y/N in the most cannibalistic way, perhaps even fantasizes about breaking her down. He wouldn’t just want to wreck Y/N physically, he’d want to taint her. He’d dream of turning her into something cruel or selfish or purely raw, not because he wants her that way, but because it would mean Bob’s greatest light isn’t as pure as he thinks.

Because Void knows that if Y/N falls, Bob would fall too.

[morpheusbaby3]

Bob's Love Counselor

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Bob isn't as secretive as he thinks about his feelings for Y/N.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem! Reader. Just Bob and Yelena being besties and chatting in the kitchen.

Word count: 1,5k

Authors note: Someone please stop me. I'm not happy with the title btw.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The kitchen was quiet for once, the chaos of the day settled into the low hum of distant rain tapping against the windows. Most of the team had retreated to their rooms or disappeared entirely. Only two remained in the kitchen, Bob and Yelena.

Yelena sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter, rhythmically tapping the spoon against the side of her yogurt cup, watching Bob with her usual sharp-eyed curiosity as he hovered, indecisive, near the fridge.

"You’re going to wear a path into the tile," she said.

Bob didn’t answer. Just opened the door, stared inside like it held the secrets of the universe, then closed it again without taking anything.

"Alright, you’ve opened the fridge four times in ten minutes. Either take something out or not."

Bob hesitated. Then he slowly turned and leaned back against the fridge, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"It’s... Uh... I need to tell you something."

Yelena raised her eyebrows and left the yogurt cup on the counter. "Go on."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I... Well, maybe... Fuck! Okay. I- I like Y/N."

"No shit," she said without missing a beat.

Bob groaned and covered his face. "God, is it that obvious?"

"C'mon, Bob. It’s like watching a golden retriever fall in love with a cat that would swat his nose. I swear.” Yelena shrugged. "Although you’ve got the others fooled. Mostly. But I noticed."

He dropped his hands. "I didn’t mean to get this deep. I just... She-”

Yelena didn’t say anything. She gave him space, the kind of silence that invited honesty without demanding it.

"She’s... Y/N," he finally said helplessly. "She’s smart and funny and intense, but in this quiet way. And it’s not just how she looks, though, obviously, she’s- she's perfect. But it’s the... It's the way she always knows when someone’s having a rough day. She doesn’t make a show of helping. She just does it. Quietly. Like it’s her mission to make sure everyone else breathes a little easier."

He sat at the kitchen table, hands folding and unfolding, restless energy bleeding from his fingertips.

"And when she helps me sleep. She 's just there. No questions, no big emotional monologue. She just sat with me. Did her weird brain-calming Jedi thing."

Yelena smirked. "Jedi thing? Shit, you don't just like her, you're becoming her."

Bob looked at her tired. "Lena..."

"Okay, okay. But you have to admit," Yelena said, hopping off the counter. "you’re gone. Absolutely gone."

Bob exhaled hard. His voice came quiet. "I am."

Yelena walked until she was standing in front of him. "So why are you telling me and not her?"

He blinked at her, startled. "Didn't you hear me? ‘cause it’s Y/N. And I’m just, well, me."

"That’s not a valid answer."

"I’m not like her. She’s calm, and good, and pretty. And I’m still trying to figure out how not to fall apart most days."

"Bob. She doesn’t want perfect. She wants real. And you’re real."

He frowned. "I just don’t want to screw it up. If I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same, things will get awkward.”

Yelena leaned forward. "Let me ask you something, when you’re with her, do you feel right?"

"Yeah. It’s weird. Like-" Bob stumbles over his words, trying to organize his racing thoughts so he can explain. "like the noise gets quieter. In fact, it's as if all the bad stuff never existed."

"And you think you can get that kind of feeling with someone else?"

Bob opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Yelena grinned.

"Sometimes I feel it coming, t-the words. When we're together... But then she’ll look at me with those eyes, those pretty eyes that see everything inside me, and I panic." He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to keep the knot of feelings inside from unraveling. “I don’t want to lose what we already have. We’re on the same team. We live together. If I mess this up..."

"You’re worried she’ll pull away."

"I’d rather have her as a friend than not at all.”

Bob dropped his head in his hands. The clock ticked in the background. The rain softened. And for a moment it eased the tension. But then Yelena’s expression shifted. She reached for her yogurt again and said, as casually as she could:

"Listen, we believe that maybe you should tell her. Alright? Just think about it."

Bob’s brows furrowed. "What do you mean we?"

Yelena froze. The spoon stopped mid-air.

"Shit..." She set the yogurt down like it was a bomb about to go off. "Okay, don’t panic—"

"Yelena."

"Look, it’s not a big deal—"

"Who knows?"

"Just Ava."

Bob groaned and buried his face in his hands. “God. Ava knows?”

“She’s not an idiot, Bob,” Yelena said, more gently. “She already kind of knew. I just confirmed it.”

Bob peeked through his fingers, horrified. “What did she say?”

“She said, and I quote, ‘Oh thank God, I thought I was imagining things.’” Yelena smirked.

“How many people know?”

“Just me and Ava,” Yelena said. “As far as I know. Well... Bucky might suspect something. He’s observant.”

Bob grunted for what seemed like the hundredth time in that conversation. "I'm doomed."

“You don't know for sure, you just have to tell her."

"She's a mind reader, Lena. What if she knows and doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to hurt me?"

“Then you ask. You're not going to propose, Bob. You just tell her she matters to you. You already know she cares about you too, even if she doesn’t say it in so many words."

He studied her face. "You think she does? Care about me?"

Yelena gave him a look.

“Bob. Have you seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching?”

He blinked. “She looks at me?”

Yelena laughed. “Oh my God, you’re hopeless.”

Bob sat in stunned silence for a few moments, processing.

“She... She looks at me?” he repeated.

Yelena just close her eyes and bow her head a little, asking any deity to give her a little peace.

[morpheusbaby3]

Cereal Roulette

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: For the first time in almost three months of living in the Watchtower, it's Bob and Y/N's turn to do the grocery shopping together.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader, fluff, mentions of Y/N and Bob traumatic pasts. Not edited.

Word count: 2k

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The grocery schedule was Bucky’s idea—down to the font, the formatting, and the assigned teams. That week, the responsibility of grocery shopping for the team fell to Bob and Y/N. For the first time in almost three months of living together in the tower.

Bob had just entered the kitchen when he noticed his name in red on the whiteboard in the Watchtower’s kitchen. He blinked twice when he saw his name next to Y/N.

Y/N appeared behind him, and chuckled when she saw what he was looking at with such concentration "Guess we’re the chosen ones."

Bob gave a half-smile, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Although he frowned when he noticed that Y/N, grumpy-mornings-Y/N, was in a strangely good mood.

She was even making jokes, what was going on with the universe?

"I-I guess, yeah. You wanna take an uber or... You feel like walking?"

She looked out the window. Blue skies. Crisp breeze.

"Let’s walk," she said. "I need to breathe something other than recycled tower air."

So they left just after breakfast —or in Y/N case, a sluggish glass of juice telekinetically poured and a toast with cheese while she buried her face into the table— armed with a list Yelena had aggressively written in the kitchen before they left.

Some might’ve seen it as a chore, another line on the endless to-do list for the team, but Bob and Y/N? They welcomed the excuse to get out of the Tower. The never-ending noise, bickering and chaotic training routines could grate on even the most patient soul. But neither Bob nor Y/N would ever claim to be the most patient type.

They walked down the busy sidewalk side by side. Y/N wore her usual light brown hoodie with the sleeves too long and hands hidden inside the front pocket. Bob, tall and relaxed, wore a dark jacket and jeans. The crisp air held the promise of autumn, a chill that made her tug the hoodie’s hood over her head.

The grocery store was six blocks away. Fifteen minutes if you strolled, ten if you walked with purpose. They strolled.

The city moved around them with typical weekend buzz. People with dogs, couples holding hands, someone playing acoustic guitar under the shade of a tree.

"You realize this is the first time we’ve done anything like this," Y/N said, glancing at him sideways.

"Like grocery shopping?"

"Like existing outside of the post-trauma tower atmosphere. Y'know, the two of us together."

Bob laughed—an honest, surprised laugh that warmed the air between them. "Yeah, I guess this does feel almost, well, normal."

Then they passed a bakery. She slowed down to peer inside the window. A woman was in charge of serving customers, while an older man came out through double doors with a tray full of cookies.

"I used to want to work in one of these," she said casually.

"What? Really?"

"When I was a kid. Before all the—" she waved a vague hand in the air. "My mom worked in a bakery and the owner had no problem with me staying there while she worked. I have vague memories of those days, but I do know I had a good time."

"What would you have liked to bake?" Bob asked, glancing over at her with a lopsided grin. "If-If you had been, y'know, a baker."

"I think everything. But mostly cinnamon rolls."

Bob looked at her, really looked. "You’ve got bakery energy. Like the sarcastic, secretly warm baker in a rom-com who insults customers but gives extra frosting."

"You just described my dream." Y/N smirked. "What about you? What did you want to be?"

Bob hesitated. "When I was a kid?"

She nodded.

"I don't know... Maybe a pilot. Maybe an astronaut. I liked skies. The idea of flying, escaping gravity. I used to draw stars on my notebook covers."

"That's actually pretty cute. Little Bob wanted to conquer the sky?"

He looked at her again, eyes soft, a chuckle escaping from his lips. "What about you, baker?"

She nudged him with her elbow. "Shut up."

They both chuckle, and the weight that usually hangs in their shoulders —whether it was the tower’s intensity, Bob’s unease with his powers, or Y/N’s internal battles— lifted just a little.

"Tell me again why we agreed to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance there. "Because Walker improvised dinner last night and my digestive system is still in recovery. So we need to get food."

"Fair point," Bob replied with a short laugh. "Although... Alexei made the salad. And it was basically just pickles and raw garlic. I still can’t feel the left side of my tongue."

"Don’t talk to me about that. I think all my offspring will continue to savor that garlic." Y/N’s nose crinkled as she grimaced. "Who puts ten cloves of garlic in anything?"

"Alexei. Apparently." Bob replied.

The supermarket came into view a few minutes later. It was one of those upscale places where things were overpriced, the produce looked like it came out of a magazine, suspiciously perfect. Under fluorescent lights and the hum of freezers, Bob grabbed a cart, steering it like a man on a mission. Y/N walked beside him, pulling the list from her pocket.

"All right," she muttered some of the things on the long list. "We need cheese... eggs... cereal, three kinds of hot sauce?... oh, of course, Yelena wants food for her guinea pig."

"Wait, why that much hot sauce?"

"Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to."

"Fair."

They wandered through aisles, pointing out ridiculous brand names, complaining about the lack of decent granola, and arguing gently about whether almond milk or oat milk was superior.

"Almond milk is just nut water," Y/N said.

"And oat milk isn’t?"

"Oats have texture."

"So you’re team oat. Noted."

Y/N smiled. A rare, genuine one.

They moved aisle by aisle, sometimes bickering over what brand of pasta Bucky would approve of, other times wandering into soft silence. At one point, they passed the frozen section. Y/N stopped short.

"You ever had those Oreo cheesecake bites?"

Bob looked. "Once. Yeah."

"I love cheesecake. But since this is what there is." Bob just nodded, concentrated in her words while watching her grabbing a box and threw it into the cart. "And it's Oreo, so we’re getting them. Non-negotiable."

"This isn’t on the list," he teased.

"I don't care. We're gonna be selfish and eat them on the way home so we don't have to share." She shrugged casually. "I do it all the time."

They both continued walking, he opened his mouth slightly, stopping the words from his mouth and hesitating a little, fingers brushing the edge of the cart.

"Can I ask you something?"

Y/N tilted her head. "Nope."

"C'mon, it's nothing bad. Just... Uhm, well, it's personal."

She gave a small shrug. "Shoot."

"Why do you always wear long sleeves? Even when it’s warm. I mean, not judging. Just curious."

She was quiet for a moment, then tugged at one of the hoodie’s cuffs like she was thinking about it.

"On the one hand, I like the warmth. NEST used to kept the kids' rooms at exactly 22°C/72°F, I think it was something about being the “neurologically optimal” temperature, but that, added the white walls and fluorescent lights, made the place seem colder than it was. So, yeah... I prefer the warmth." she said simply. She weighed the next words, thinking about how to express it. "On the other hand there are the... Uhm... Marks."

Bob’s expression didn’t shift into pity, and Y/N was grateful for that. He just nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"From NEST?"

She nodded. "And from after. Mostly NEST. I don’t like seeing them. Or letting anyone else see them."

"Do they still hurt?"

She considered that. "Only emotionally."

Bob didn’t push further, he knew what it was like to have scars you wanted to erase. Instead, he gently steered the cart into the next aisle. It was a quiet gesture of respect, and Y/N felt something tight in her chest loosen.

"What about you?" she asked. "I noticed your hands are always shaking. Are you cold or is it because...?.”

He chuckled without humor. "You notice, huh?"

She gave a little nod.

"It’s just- It's normal, I think. B-because of the abstinence..." His voice was nervous, it was hard for him to talk about his past with addictions.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"It’s hard. I used to chase the feeling of not feeling anything like... Like it was the only thing keeping me from dissolving. It helped me forget, to cope with things."

"And now you have to keep going without it."

"Exactly."

Y/N nodded, eyes on the shelves.

"I get that. Not the substance thing, exactly. But the keep going part." Y/N looked at him. Her clear eyes with truth. "You’re doing okay, Bob. More than okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They continued walking. The cart was halfway full now, and the mundane rhythm of shopping felt oddly therapeutic. Bob tossed a bag of pretzels into the cart, then looked down at it.

"You know, I kind of like this."

"Shopping?"

"Shopping with you. It’s calm."

Y/N smirked. "Everything is calm if you compare it to the tower."

"Point taken. But this is good. I- I mean, you... You don't treat me like I'm made of glass, like the rest. "

"That’s because you’re not."

Bob stopped walking for a second.

Y/N turned to look at him.

"You really believe that?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

He smiled again. That soft, grateful one that always made her chest feel weird.

"Thanks, Y/N."

They resumed their walk through the store, and when they reached the cereal aisle, Y/N stared at the endless shelves.

"Okay, cereal roulette."

"Cereal what?"

"You close your eyes, spin around once, and grab a box."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "That a thing?"

"Nope. That’s a 'We never had shop together before so I made up a dumb game to make it fun' thing."

Without another word, Bob turned in a slow circle with his eyes closed and grabbed a box. With his eyes still closed, he extended the box to where Y/N was, or at least where he thought Y/N was.

"You got bran flakes."

"Is that bad?"

"It’s a war crime. Try again."

He laughed and did it again. This time he ended up with something chocolatey and borderline dessert.

"Now we are talking." Y/N exclaimed as she grabbed the cereal box and put it in the cart. "Although we need a box of wheaties for Alexei."

By the time they reached the checkout, the cart was filled with an eclectic mix of healthy staples and Bob-and-Y/N impulse buys. They checked out and walked out carrying paper bags, letting the late afternoon sun hit their faces.

"I liked this," Y/N said after a while.

"Me too."

They kept walking. Somewhere in between discussing the pros and cons of pineapple on pizza and eating the entire bag of cheesecake bites, the conversation dipped again into something real.

"Do you ever feel like you don’t deserve the good stuff?" Bob asked suddenly, voice low.

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

"Yeah," she said finally. "All the time."

Bob nodded.

"But I think we’re wrong," she added.

"About what?"

"About not deserving it. I think that feeling comes from the parts of us that are still hurt. Not the parts that survived, the parts that deserve this opportunity."

Bob looked at her again. This time with something like quiet awe. He exhaled and leaned back slightly on his hands.

"I'm glad we did this. We don’t talk much... Y'know, outside our little arrangement. I guess I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me."

"It's not that I don't want to. I'm just not great at casual conversation."

"No shit," he chuckled.

She smiled faintly.

"But I don’t mind talking to you," she said. "Feels natural."

They walked in silence a while longer. When they get to the tower, Y/N and Bob shared a look.

"Back to reality," Bob said.

"Sadly."

"Wanna make it our thing?" Bob asked eventually. His feet moving lightly and almost imperceptibly on the floor as a sign of nervousness. "Shopping. Together. We can do it whenever it's either of our turn to go."

Y/N thought about it a little, then with a little mocking tone spoke. "Only if we play cereal roulette again."

"Deal." Bob exclaimed, trying and failing to hide the relief in his voice, as they step inside of the tower.

And just like that, a quiet tradition was born.

One that belonged only to them.

[morpheusbaby3]

Hallway talks

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Y/N is in the hallway, in front of Bob's door, in the middle of the night. And Bucky just happens to be there too.

Warnings: It's just not edited.

Word count: 800

Authors note: None. Like every other part of the series, can be read as a stand alone.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

It was nearly 00:23 a.m. when Bucky stepped out into the hallway of the Watchtower. He didn't always sleep there—after all he had his own apartment— but he had his own room there for the days when he was just too tired to go back to his place.

Bucky had been tossing and turning for over an hour, memories nipping at the edges of sleep like persistent insects. Eventually, he gave up and wandered into the corridor in sweatpants and a faded T-shirt, silently considering the kitchen for a glass of water.

That’s when he saw her.

Y/N. Barefoot. Dressed in loose, dark pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt that seemed too worn, hanging from her shoulders. Bucky narrowed his eyes when he realized that she was in front of Bob’s door.

"Y/N?"

She jumped a little, hand raised mid-knock. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but his voice had cut the silence too cleanly. She turned slowly, not scared, just caught. The hall light cast gentle shadows across her face. Her features were calm, schooled, like always, but her fingers were curled into the hem of her sleeve.

"Hey..." she managed to say after a few seconds of processing Bucky's presence there, quiet as the hour demanded.

Bucky walked closer, arms crossed. "That’s Bob’s room."

Y/N grimaced, her voice hesitant before answering. "I’m aware."

He raised an eyebrow. "Something going on?"

There was a beat. Then two.

"It's not like that, Bucky." she answered, indignant and slightly offended. She turned fully to face him now, her back to Bob’s door. "He has trouble sleeping."

Bucky’s eyes flickered to the door, then back to her. "So you sneak in and what? Sing him lullabies?"

"Ha, ha, ha. Funny." She cracked a smile. "You know how I help him. I have helped you too."

He didn’t answer, just waited, the way he’d learned from years of being interrogated and he himself interrogated people, sometimes silence was better than words.

Y/N sighed softly and glanced at the floor. "It’s nothing bad, not really. But it’s not team knowledge either 'cause Bob didn't want anyone to find out... He comes to get me sometimes, when he can't sleep. Or I wait for him. Whichever."

"You wait for him?" He asked somewhat surprised.

"Uh... Yeah. Some nights."

Bucky watched her a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, surprisingly, he softened.

"That’s... kind of you."

She leaned back slightly against the wall beside Bob’s door. "It’s not that big of a deal."

They both stood in silence for a while. Bucky leaned against the wall across from her, arms still crossed.

"How long’s this been going on?"

"A few weeks. We both met in the kitchen because neither of us could sleep, talked a bit, and I offered to help him."

Bucky didn’t press.

She shrugged gently. "After that, we kind of fell into it."

He nodded. "You care about him."

That gave her pause. Her eyes flicked to the door behind her, then back to Bucky. "Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't do it."

"But it’s more than that."

She didn’t reply, didn't even look him in the eyes, concentrating on the sight of her feet.

Bucky smirked faintly, but it wasn’t mocking. Just perceptive. "You’re good at hiding it. From the rest. Not from me."

Y/N rolled her eyes softly. "You’re such a damn soldier. Observant to a fault."

"Comes with the job, yeah."

She laughed under her breath.

Bucky looked like he wanted to keep talking about it. But he knew better.

"Alright," he said finally. "I won’t tell anyone."

She smiled, relieved.

"But if you ever need to talk... you know I’m around."

"I know. Thanks."

Bucky pushed off the wall and walked past her, toward the end of the hallway. Before turning the corner, he glanced back. "You’re a good person, Y/N. Don’t forget that."

Then he was gone.

Not even a second later she pushed off the wall and knocked on the door behind her.

Bob blinked when he opened, relaxing upon seeing that it was Y/N.

"Hey" Bob opened the door wider, stepping aside with a little smile. "You coming in?"

She nodded and stepped through.

Inside, the lights were low. The bed was unmade. The air smelled faintly of lavender, one of the calming oils she’d introduced to him a few nights ago. Familiar now.

As Bob shut the door, Y/N let the quiet settle between them. She climbed onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her legs. Easy, like she belonged there. Bob joined her, sitting beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

"You okay?" she asked gently, her eyes glimmering slightly as she looked at him.

"Wasn’t... B-but now, yeah."

She closed her eyes and reached out, barely a whisper of thought. Just enough tether to feel the tension unwind from his mind.

He sighed, long and slow, leaning back until his head rested on the pillow. Y/N laid beside him, still and quiet, her presence a steady anchor.

[morpheusbaby3]

Ava's Birthday and Little Roof Talks

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: Bob and Y/N have a little chat on the rooftop, while the rest of the team gets drunk in the living room.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader, brief mentions of Bob's past, alcohol consumption, slightly awkward conversations.

Word count: 1,4k (It was supposed to be a drabble, but I went crazy halfway through it, so let's just pretend)

Authors note: English is not my first language. I'm just obsessed, in case you haven't noticed.

Series AO3 General Masterlist

Ava’s birthday —or the excuse the Thunderbolts/New Avengers used to pretend to be something resembling a functioning team—was in full swing. Two months of forced cohabitation in the Tower, and most of them were still feeling each other out.

Y/N wasn’t exactly a people person. She participated when she had to, smiled when someone cracked a joke in her direction, and spoke only when spoken to. Most people took the hint.

She had been sprawled on the couch for most of the evening, sipping what Alexei gave her and she couldn't name and watching everyone unravel in their own way. Bucky and Alexei were chatting, more like Alexei rambling and Bucky zoned out, Ava was focused on throwing fries in the air and catching them with her mouth, Yelena was too busy doing her best at karaoke and Walker was grumbling because he wanted to do karaoke too and Yelena wouldn't let go of the remote she was using as a mic.

Y/N didn’t mind the chaos, really. It was kind of like watching a sitcom, one with mild violence and former assassins.

Still, something itched in the back of her head. She glanced around the room lazily: Two Soviet super soldiers to her left, two out-of-tune idiots in front of her fighting over the remote, and a bored birthday girl to her right. She was almost sure there were seven of them, not six.

Right.

Bob was missing.

She didn’t know why that detail stood out to her. Maybe because he was the only one here who matched her brand of silent observation. Or maybe it was because, even though they didn’t talk much outside of their strange nighttime arrangement, she’d started to notice when he was and wasn't around.

She weighed her options for a moment, trying to remember when Bob had left the party, but her brain stopped registering what was happening around her at the time. Y/N vaguely remembered Alexei's voice telling an anecdote and Yelena almost begging him to shut up, but other than that she hadn't really noticed Bob's departure.

Quietly, she slipped away from the party, unnoticed.

She checked his room first. Then the kitchen. Then the hallway that led to the training rooms. All empty.

It wasn’t until she stepped onto the rooftop, the cool night air hitting her skin, that she found him. Bob sat close to the ledge, arms resting on his knees, back slightly hunched. The city lights glowed around him, distant and comforting. 

"Well, hello there." She waved softly when she reached the roof, suppressing the giggle that wanted to escape her lips when Bob turned to look at her, surprised by the interruption. Y/N took a few steps forward, boots crunching lightly on the gravel. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Hey," he said. His voice was soft. Not tired, not exactly. Just muted. "It's okay. Just needed some air."

She nodded and moved closer, but didn’t sit beside him. She leaned against the edge of the wall, a few feet away. "Tired of partying?"

"Um, kinda. I mean, I didn't- I was having a good time."

Bob's glance was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but Y/N was quick enough to notice his blue eyes glancing down at the glass in her hand. It took only a fleeting glance for Y/N's alcohol-clouded brain to suddenly recall Bob's past.

Suddenly, she felt a little stupid. Why? She didn't know, she wasn't sure, but she felt that way.

"Everyone's looking for a reason to let loose," he said, motioning vaguely toward the party downstairs. "Guess I’m not really good at that anymore."

"Right." She thought for a minute, raised her hand slightly, hesitated halfway, then finally lifted the glass completely and downed the rest in one gulp. Missing Bob's expression of surprise at her actions.

She looked at the now-empty glass, looked at Bob, and then looked back at the city, her brain processing what she'd just done.

"Shit... That wasn't meant to, like, make fun of you or anything. I was actually going to throw it, but I thought it might fall on someone or something. Although that wasn't very nice to you now that I think about it."

Apparently she was drunker than she thought. Because that kind of rambling only appeared when she was a few drinks in.

Bob's face relaxed, an incredulous smile on his lips, as if he couldn't believe that Y/N was having an internal battle over considering his feelings and a hypothetical stranger's on the sidewalk of the building.

"It's okay, really." Bob shrugged as he looked back at the city. The messy thoughts he'd been having a few minutes ago were apparently gone. "It's not like, you know, like I mind being around alcohol or you guys drinking, but uh-"

"Isn't easy? I get it. Well, I've never been in your position, but those are the advantages of having been experimented on when I was a child. Y'know, super empathy and all that."

"You really are a chatty when you're drunk."

"I'm not an avid drinker, but it takes more than two glasses of... Whatever Alexei gave us, to get me drunk, Bob."

"If I had known you were going to talk to me while drunk, I would have given you something to drink befo- Wait! No!" His cheeks turned slightly red as he realized what he had said, strange because at the same time it seemed like the blood had drained from his face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean for it to sound like that. Really... Sound like a creep. God..."

Y/N tried not to laugh, looking at the bottom of her empty glass, then she joked to take some of the tension off him. "I think that what I drink actually affected you." 

After that they stayed quiet, eyes scanning the horizon, Y/N pressing her lips together to stop her laught. The silence between them feel kind of awkward, though it might’ve been for anyone else.

Bob looked at her for a moment, the words piling up in his throat, begging him to let them out. Even if they didn't talk much, there was that something in her that told him he could trust his thoughts to her.

"Sometimes I think about what I’d be like if none of this had happened. If I wasn’t... Y'know, me."

"Do you regret it?"

He glanced at her. The wind tugged at a few strands of her hair, lifting them across her face. She didn’t move them.

"Regret’s a funny thing. I regret how it happened. What I did. The people I hurt. But the powers? I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like all I have."

"You’re more than that, Bob." Y/N said, her voice quiet.

He looked at her then. Really looked. Her face was neutral, but her eyes... They were sharp, like she could see straight through him, straight through all his dark and messy thoughts, as if searching for something true, something raw.

"That’s nice of you to say. Even if it’s not true."

"I don’t say things to be nice," she replied. A beat passed. "You’re the only one who checks the mission files with real concentration, even if you don't go, just to know what we're going to face. And you’re always the first to check on everyone after we return. You make little, almost unnoticeable but meaningful things for people when they’re having a bad day. And the list could go on. That’s not the serum. That’s you. That's because you care."

Bob’s throat tightened.

"You’ve been paying attention," he murmured.

"Pfft. Not on purpose." She retorted in a mocking tone.

They both smiled a little.

The silence returned, but it had changed. It felt safe. Familiar. Comfortable.

"Thanks for the sleep help, by the way," he said after a while. "Didn’t think I’d make it this long without it."

"You’re welcome," Y/N replied. Then she hesitated. "You’ve been better lately. Less tense."

"That’s you, too."

She shrugged, a small movement. "It’s just my abilities. Without them I don't think I could really help you sleep."

"No," Bob said, turning to look out over the city again. "It’s how you use them. It’s different. It feels like... Uhm, like safety."

That surprised her. It sat with her for a moment, tugging at something in her chest. No one, in her entire life, had ever felt remotely safe with her. Not even herself.

Bob stood up then, brushing the dust off his hands. "Anyway. I didn’t mean to go all confessional on you. Just needed some quiet. Didn’t expect company."

"I can leave."

"No!" The slight way Bob raised his voice, somewhere between pleading and desperation, but still neither, surprised them both. "No, I-. You can stay-If you want, of course. I-I think I’d rather share the quiet than be alone with it."

Y/N nodded and sat beside him.

They watched the city for a long time.

No more words were needed.