strnghold

[strnghold]

Burn || Bob Reynolds x thunderbolt!Reader

Part: One

Wc: 2k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, angst, suggestive themes, no smut (YETT), not proofread

A/N: chats i have not written anything since June of last year🫩 i have also never written on tumblr so please go easy on me yall. Also let me know if yall want a part two cause i low key may write one

The icy air brushed against your face—cold, sharp, and unforgiving. It felt like every sin you’d ever committed was coming back to punish you tenfold. Your body ached in ways you didn’t know were possible, like you’d just died, come back, and were about to die again.

Well—that’s exactly what happened.

Just two hours ago, you were strapped to a cold, metal operating table in a hospital-like facility. For years, men in white coats had sworn they were trying to help you. They smiled. They used soft voices. They said you were sick. But it was all a lie.

They injected you with burning liquids that made your blood feel like acid. Sometimes, the pain was so severe they had to sedate you mid-scream. You never knew what the purpose was—what they were trying to do, or why. But today, something changed. You did something.

So let’s run it back.

⸻

“[Name], it’s time for your treatment,” a man said, knocking on your door before stepping inside. He carried a tray with five syringes. Three other men followed him in. One of them, the one with the tray, wore glasses far too small for his wide head. Another wheeled in the metal table. The last two were twins—unsettlingly identical, with hollow smiles.

You didn’t resist. You just watched, tired and numb, as they pulled on white latex gloves. One of the twins lifted you with practiced ease and laid you down. The other secured your ankles while his brother strapped down your wrists and neck. They smiled at you as if it was some act of kindness.

But you knew better. The smiles were masks. Lies.

You stared up at the blinding white light overhead. “Am I dangerous?” you asked flatly, breaking the sterile silence.

The man with the tray paused, exchanged glances with the others, and then spoke.

“No. You’re not dangerous. You’re sick. We’re here to help you,” he said, pressing the first needle to your arm. You flinched.

“Then… why do I have to be strapped down?” you winced as he slid in another needle. “Am I being punished?”

By the third injection, your vision blurred. That’s when the burning began.

Your body convulsed. The table rattled under you.

“It burns—it burns!” you gasped, fingernails scraping uselessly against the metal. Panic consumed you.

“Shhh, it’s okay. We’ll give you some painkillers when we’re done,” the man said gently, as if that made it better.

But it didn’t.

You were on fire. Literally.

“U-unstrap me, please,” you begged, voice trembling. They ignored you. “Unstrap me! Why the fuck aren’t you listening?!”

And then something strange happened.

Your skin began to glow—bones lighting up beneath it like a lantern. The man with the glasses saw it, but pretended not to. You smelled smoke, then heard the fabric straps snap. You’d burned through them.

You bolted upright, tried to jump down, but one of the twins grabbed you. His gloves melted in an instant, and his scream echoed through the room.

You elbowed him in the jaw and kicked the man with the glasses square in the chest. He flew back, gasping for air. The others tried to grab you—but you were faster. Stronger. Burning.

You ran, turned to glance behind you. The door read: PROJECT INFERNO.

Were you just some experiment?

An alarm blared. Men poured out from every hallway. You were surrounded.

They attacked. Fists struck your body with the force of hammers. You screamed, flames erupting from your hands. You burned anyone you touched, but they kept coming.

Blood poured from your mouth. You clawed a man’s face, your fingers searing into his eyes—he disintegrated in your grip.

You broke free.

Staggered.

Ran.

Two giant white doors loomed in front of you. You shoved them open and stumbled outside. Cold air ripped through your lungs. Your feet crunched through snow.

You didn’t know where you were going—you just ran.

Eventually, your body gave out. You collapsed face-first into the snow, your own blood creating a trail behind you. Vision fading, you barely registered the sight of a woman with brown hair and white streaks. She was speaking into a radio. You couldn’t make out the words. Then, everything went black.

⸻

You woke up in a tan room wearing a white sweatshirt and sweatpants. Your face was clean. You tried lifting your arms—pain shot through your body like a lightning bolt. You let them fall.

“Hello there,” said a voice.

You jerked, turning to see the woman from before.

“You’re safe,” she said, her voice soft but cautious. “My name is Valentina.”

“Why am I here?” you cut her off, staring into her eyes.

She hesitated. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You knew those men,” you accused. “Didn’t you?”

She opened her mouth, then stopped. You removed the blanket, hissing as your sore legs hit the floor.

“Let me explain,” she said quickly, holding a hand out.

“I don’t want an explanation. I want to leave.” You stood, voice low and cold.

Valentina sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. “You’re powerful. A hero. Immortal. I brought you here to help the world. You’re not alone. There are others like you.”

You looked around. “Where? We’re in a fucking motel room. I don’t see anyone else.”

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

⸻

The elevator opened into a space that looked like a hotel lobby—furnished, oddly cozy, and full of people.

You bit your tongue. The air was thick with tension. You followed Valentina.

“Thunderbolts,” she announced, “this is [Name]. Go on, introduce yourselves.”

You blinked. Two women. Four men. Strange ratio.

One man looked particularly nervous. He flinched under your gaze, fumbling with his hands. You snickered.

Their names came next: Yelena, Ava, Alexei, Bucky, John, and Bob.

Valentina told you to make yourself at home. You sat on the sofa, ignoring the stares.

Then came John. Loud and unapologetic. “Who the hell is she? I’m not training her, not dealing with another Bob situation.”

You scoffed. “Who is this fake Captain America, and why is he speaking to me?”

You stood, nose nearly touching his chest. Your eyes glowed amber. “Say one more thing, and I’ll blow your head off.”

John backed off, raising his hands. Yelena grinned. “I like her already,” she said, accent curling around the words.

You turned to her. She was stunning.

“What do I do here?” you asked flatly.

Ava spoke up. “First, we need to know what kind of abilities you have.”

You froze. Flames. Blood. Screaming. The lab.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, I do. But I can’t control it.”

“What do you do?” Bucky asked, tone sharp.

“I burn things,” you whispered.

They stared.

“That all?” John asked.

You glared. Then explained.

“I was locked away my whole life. Experimented on. They said I was sick.” Your voice cracked slightly.

“So… like Bobby over there?” Alexei asked, pointing to the quiet one.

Your eyes met Bob’s.

He quickly looked away.

He was beautiful.

His curly hair was messy, like bedhead. His eyes were soft, like a kicked puppy. He hadn’t stopped playing with his hands since you walked in. His frame was huge—broad shoulders, long arms, thick neck. Clothes too big, making him look somehow even more huggable. And his face—delicate, but rugged. Like a model who’d been through hell.

“Alexei,” Yelena warned, elbowing him. He muttered an apology.

You shrugged. “I don’t know who any of you are. Or what you’ve been through.”

John smirked. “Let’s see if you last a day.”

Your eyes glowed. “I take that as a challenge.”

⸻

A week later, you were on the lounge sofa, pretending to watch a movie but mostly thinking.

Alexei had compared you to Bob.

Was he experimented on too?

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. His hair. His voice. His giant frame. His awkwardness.

You imagined trailing kisses along his neck—his blank, pale neck, like a canvas. Purple marks, your signature.

You imagined him under you, hair messy, sweatshirt riding up, hands gripping your thighs. His mouth messy from kissing.

You shook your head.

“[Name]?” Yelena snapped you out of it. “You good? I’ve called your name five times.”

“Uh-huh. I’m great.” Lie.

She sat beside you in a Nike crewneck and shorts set—definitely something you were going to “borrow.”

“What are we watching?”

“Anyone But You. Romance.”

“I see. So. Training’s in a few weeks. Valentina says you have to help me train Bob. Gonna be a pain in the ass.”

Your ears perked up. Bob?

“Cool. Not like I had a choice.”

Then—his voice.

“Hi. What are you guys watching?”

Your shoulders tensed. You refused to turn.

“We’re watching Anyone But You,” Yelena said casually. “Romance. Wanna join?”

You dared to look. His face was a little flushed.

“I—I’m sorry. I can’t. I was just saying goodnight.”

You wanted him to stay.

And leave.

“Goodnight, Bob. Sleep well,” you said softly.

He left. Your eyes returned to the screen.

But your heart?

It was still watching him walk away.

Drop any requests because i have NO idea what to write and can write just about anything