#I'm also counting hyperfixations so:

[widdleguy]

I'm genuinely like a little rabid dog when you mention my special interests

[feliville]

I need to start some sort of journal or something so I can gush about my own drawings and what I like about them, I reckon if I talk too positively about that publicly or to other people, they might think I'm self-absorbed and egotistical

my boyf said its not egotistical to be proud of a skill you've developed for over a decade But still.

[dork-kisser]

maybe sholmes was right. it's a good morning to die perhaps.....

[une-sanz-pluis]

Deeana Copeland Klepper, “The Ingressus Ludwici Palantini Reni ad terram sanctam: A fifteenth-century response to spiritual crisis”, Fifteenth Century Studies, vol. 15, 1989

[ryuunosenshi]

so tempted to break my hiatus just to reblog everything halsin I come across

[caluupin]

btw sorry for inactivity, I got busy n stuff.

As compensation, have a (footage of a) python project I did for fun (game 24, where you get a set of numbers and you gotta use math to make it 24)

[kitchensinksurrealism]

for some reason everything I did when I was 17 was so interconnected that I can't repeat any of it without the rest of it all coming back. if that makes sense

[pa-pa-plasma]

has anyone else noticed that people who aren't writers & know nothing about writing are acting like an authority on storytelling or is it just me

[nemesyaaa]

love in the dark — rafe cameron x gf's!twin! reader

summary ; it's all about your sister twin until rafe made a mistake by moaning your name instead of hers.....

warnings ; +18 content. minors dni. forbidden au. wrong sister trope. smut. p in v. oral (m.). attention's whore mentions. evil/angel twins. jjpope as bestfriend's readers and losers club bc i said so. cheating. little guilt. not girl girl sister content. be aware of the warnings before reading. i dont think its really dark content but it's kinda twisted so if you're not into it, just don't read it. friendly reminder that hate is useless and only hurtful for nothing.

words count : 1,8k.

author's note ; also a big thanks you to my girls @rafesangelita & @rafesheaven for helping me with this au ! it worked and I'm grateful ‼️✨

You were so different from your sister.

She was smart, popular, talented and the head of the cheerleader team. She always got the boys you wanted, reminding you that you could always dream of them, never be on their side. She was the beautiful girl of the school, her name literally glowing on every crush's list, the so-called “ kook princess ” by everyone.

She was too pretty to let you have a chance, which was unfair because you were literally her twin. You were living in her shadow. You were the so-called “ nerd & loser ” , the girl too focused on her revisions and hyperfixations, who love libraries and comics, having online friends and playing video games while chatting on discord. You were too online to be seen in real life.

All your boyfriends were literally fictional characters, and they were too fucked in mind to help you get popular at school. You always had a thing for depressed, stupid, losers, psychopaths boys. But it doesn't mean you were different from girls that had a crush on your sister's boyfriend. Who hadn't ?

Rafe Cameron was literally THE dream fantasy. You thought you had a chance when he ran toward you on the field, his helmet locked on his arms. He was so hot, his sweaty hair flying over his forehead while he was running, his big nose and wet lips glistening over the sunlight. His eyes were bright in a powerful way. You found him perfect. And you could imagine how easy life was for him because of his beauty privilege.

He smiled at you when no one did. And it was enough for you to fantasize about him, to imagine something with him. You were a hopeless romantic, forced to romanticize every small action in your life.

When he was close to you, you realized how big he was. His shoulders were broad, his chest firm and strong. His biceps were easily flexing like all the muscles on his body. The gym shorts were exposing his muscular legs. His jaw was art, especially aimed toward you just like that, as his blue eyes were watching nothing but you.

" Hey. ” he first said.

" Hey. " You said, wanting to slap yourself. Crazy how you just said the same thing as him but sounded more stupid. " Fucking loser. Do better. " you murmured to yourself.

" Can i have your sister's number ? "

You could swore at the moment that you lost your heart, as the same way your smile dropped.

But it was obvious. Every boy wanted your sister. You couldn't blame Rafe because why on earth would people want you when they could have a better version of you ? The thought of this was real and heartbreaking.

You forced a smile to answer him, not wanting him to know what's on your mind. You were already a loser, he didn't need to know how much. " Yes...yes, you can..." you just said softly, trying to hold back your tears, tired of this situation. " At this point, i think everyone has it..." You murmured to yourself with a bitter voice.

" What did you say ? ”

" What ? I said she's lucky. You're so pretty. " You replied, embarrassing yourself even more.

" I'm the lucky one. She's pretty. Guess i’ll see you at home. " He said with the cockiest smile ever.

So you started to see Rafe at home every night and day. He was always with your sister, they were always together.

Like Twins. Ironically.

But something was off. Your sister was unable to love. She just loved attention from boys. She wanted to be the attraction. She was always talking shit behind Rafe's back, treating him like nothing and you were wondering how he was still there with her.

That was crazy how everyone loved him at the house. Your parents already called him son, your sister was fakely in love, and you were really in love with him.

She was always kissing him, pulling him so close to her to steal a kiss. And after that, they were basically making out in front you. They didn't even care about your presence. And you started to think it was on purpose. Your sister wanted you to know that Rafe will never be yours, that she has something you would never have. The boy was hers.

But one day, you were at home after class, thinking of relaxing yourself during a show but something caught your attention.

You were upstairs when you heard some noises. Not the noises you were supposed to hear but you were used to with those people. You shouldn't but you walked toward the sound. The door was a little bit opened, so you checked.

And you saw it. Rafe was over your sister, oh you could see he was deep balls inside her, thrusting in and out her dripping core. His back was huge, covering your sister's body. They were fucking and from what you can heard, he was doing so good. He was fast, dick driving to her spot, hips slamming back and forth against her body. He was kissing her, hand on her throat, blocking her from breathing and fingers stuffed in mouth to the point she gagged on it. Her lips were pooling with saliva as she was nothing but a mess.

When you were about to step away, he did something that choked you.

“Fuck.. you're doing so good to me, y/n..."

Your fucking name. On his lips. When he was with your sister.

But that wasn't all. He did cum at this exact moment. He charged your twin with his load, whispering your name again and again until her pussy was full of his seed, until his voice was shaking to remain quiet.

“ What did you just say ? ” Your sister argued, a voice so loud and clear. “ Did you really say my twin's name ? ”

Oh she was mad. Really mad.

But for what ? Because she wasn't her man's attention, or for you ?

You covered your mouth with your hand to not scream.

" Shit, baby. I promise that's not what you think...Fuck, I'm sorry. "

“ You did not fucking do that. Did you really think of her ? God, you're such a jerk. ”

You went to your room, locked it because you were scared of your sister's tantrum. You tried to not think about it but you couldn't. Rafe really said it.

That was your name. He knew that you existed.

You were on call with your favorite losers. JJ and Pope. And so you asked them…

" What does it means when your sister's boyfriend is moaning your name while he's fucking her ? "

Pope's was gagged for a second while JJ first answered. " That he's fucking the wrong sister. I always tell you're prettier than her. "

" I would give you a chance if you weren't my bestfriend. "

" Did you really friendzone me ? "

" I mean... I'm into my sister's boyfriend. "

" But he's into her..." Pope corrected. " Sorry, after all, you have your chance. "

" I can't do that to my twin. "

" Well...if she can do that to you...maybe you should think of your villain era. "

" I'm not a mean girl. "

" You're not a girl girl too for wanting to Fuck your sister's boyfriend. So don't worry, you can be a bitch in peace. "

When someone knocked on the door, you cut the voice call and close your laptop before opening it.

It was Rafe. His hair was still messy from the sex, his voice deep and tired. He was all sweaty, wearing nothing but a black boxer. He was so insanely muscled, his pecs and abs glowing with sweat that was leading to a soft happy trail under his belly and heading inside the fabric of his pants. You couldn't stop yourself from lurking at the bulge. And the fact you know that he just had sex doesn't help at all.

" It's not gonna help if you continue to stare like that..." He mocked, but in a gentle way.

You looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with yourself. “ You're gonna act shy now ? Come on, we all know that's not what you are. " He continued while moving inside your room.

" Hey ! What are you doing ? "

" That's a nice room. " He complimented, looking everywhere. Your comics, posters, books, goodies and video games. “ Look like you've been alone here for so long. "

" You don't know anything about my life. " You said.

" I can tell you're nothing like your sister. You love all those things she hates. "

" And why aren't you with her ? "

" She's taking a shower. "

“ So that's why you suddenly give me attention ? ” You said bitterly. “ She's not there so now I now exist to you ? ”

He chuckled, before heading toward you, grabbing your face with his hand.

“ Oh you think it's easy to forget about you ? I see you everytime i see her. But not only... "

You glared at him for the first time he was in your room, he managed to have your attention. He smiled softly.

" I fuck you everytime i fuck her. "

You didn't care how weird it was, only cared about what he thought of you. In a second, your lips were on his.

Rafe didn't say no, he pulled you closer, his mouth pressed against your sweet lips as you felt his nose crushing against yours. Now, he could tell that you were different from your sister by the taste.

" Do you always do that ? " He whispered, licking at the string of saliva between you.

“ Do what ? "

" Stealing your sister's boyfriend ? "

" At least, it's the first time it works. " You played back. “ I want you, now”

“ Do you think you can make me cum in time ? ���

“ Do you think i'm inexperienced ? ”

“ I think you should get on your knees to prove me wrong. ”

He was against the door, while you were now on your knees, sucking his dick while your twin was still in the shower.

You weren't really proud but you were starting to think you were better than her. And the thought was obsessive. With a hand fisting his length, and your mouth pumping harder, you were doing your best. He was looking at you, fingers over your hair. You were pretty with his dick inside your throat, holding your boobs as he started to fuck your face.

The bathroom's door opened and you freaked out but Rafe forced you to still hold the pace, telling you to not worry about that.

“ Rafey…Rafey, where are you ? ” You heard her say.

With no answer, you panicked at her footsteps approaching your door. “Did you see, Rafe?” she asked.

With devilish eyes, Rafe released his cock from your mouth, inviting you to respond as you tried to catch your breath.

“ I-i don't know…” You just said with a little guilt.

“ So useless…” You heard her say before walking away.

She was so mean, you hated her.

Rafe saw that you were hurt by her words, and grabbed your jaw slowly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “ She's wrong, baby. Look at you, how useful are you. ”

And you smiled. “ And pretty. ”

“ We share the same face. We're twins, Rafe. ”

“ But there's something I'm sure you don't share with her…what about spreading your legs for me and let me show you ? ”

You nodded.

“ Think you can moan the right sister's name this time ? ”

[lovelettersfrommai]

oh please, please, please go into heavy detail about tapping joaquín out at his graduation, i neeeed it 🙏🙏

Well...since you asked so nicely!

Tapping Joaquín out at his BMT Graduation :)

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x fem! reader

A/N: I know that Top Gun is the Navy, therefore this gif isn't accurate. I doubt y'all give a shit whether or not my military accuracy is the greatest, but I do kinda know what i'm talking about LOL (I have a couple family members in the airforce). Also, I was gonna do headcanons and then it spiraled into this...let me know if it's okay.

Word Count: 1,157

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything Marvel related, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. I also had to make up / guesstimate a timeline since it's not to clear as to what age Joaquín is supposed to be, just that he survived the blip.

Warnings !: Mentions of taking place during the blip (only a warning because reader doesn't have any family members who survived it.)

Your flight was late last night. You would’ve been there yesterday, but due to an unfortunate series of flight delays and cancellations, you had been stuck in Miami longer than anticipated.

Luckily, Joaquín’s mother and abuela had gotten in just fine, so they were able to spend the day with him, watching the morning run and his coin ceremony. Joaquín had eagerly sent over pictures as soon as he got his phone back, the three of them at the Alamo, and at various locations around San Antonio. Your heart banged with sadness at the notion of not being able to be there, but ever the gentleman, he reassured you that it wasn’t your fault. 

Now here you were again, early in the morning at the Lackland Air force base with his mother and abuela, just waiting for the graduation to start. You had driven them onto base, seeing as neither of them had a military ID, but you were happy to do it. Your leg was anxiously bouncing on the metal bleachers. His mom tells you how yesterday at his ceremony he was awarded as the best BMT graduate. It surprises you since he hadn’t mentioned it in any of the letters he wrote to you, but the more you think about it, that is exactly something that he would do. There’s a cool breeze blowing at your hair, despite it being August, and the sun is slowly rising. Joaquín’s mother, Esperanza, gently lays her hand on your knee. 

“Cálmate, Mija. It’ll be okay.” She gently rubs circles onto your skin, hoping to soothe whatever nerves you may have. You put your hand over hers, squeezing it gently. Ever since you lost your family members in the blip, Joaquín’s family had 

“I know, Mamá. It’s just…we haven’t been separated since we started dating. What if he spent this time away and he realizes this isn’t what he wanted-“ She gently smacks your arm, making you let out a small yelp. 

“Hey. He’s your husband. We spent the entire day with him yesterday, and he wouldn’t stop talking about you, Mija. I think it’s safe to say that the two months that you two were separated didn’t impact the way he thinks about you.” You sigh as you rub at your, now slightly sore, upper arm. You know she’s right. Joaquín had only ever shown interest in you since you officially started dating all those years ago, but the insecurity that bloomed in your stomach couldn’t be helped. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be thinking that way…He’s a good man, Mamá.” Esperanza nods in agreement. 

“And if he wasn’t, I’d smack him too. He knows better.” That makes you chuckle. 

“I missed him. A lot.” You feel your eyes sting with tears at the thought. She squeezes your hand gently. It doesn’t help that you know this isn’t the end. He still has to go to tech school, and do more training until he can finally do Recon like he set out to do. 

“You’re gonna see him today. I know it’s just the beginning, but you two have something…I can’t even describe. It’s stronger than any distance.” His mother says gently. His Abuela chimes in a bit, speaking Spanish. You only really know bits and pieces, having a high school speaking level. You recognize the words, Love. Eyes. Esperanza translates for you. 

“There’s an old proverb. It means ‘Love is shown through the eyes.’ Mamá is saying that she knows you two will get through it because she’s seen the way Quíno looks at you…and I agree.”  You wipe your eyes. 

“You’re right. We’ll be fine.” You turn to grab his Abuela’s hand, squeezing it gently. 

“Gracias, Abuelita.” 

~

The ceremony starts, and the three of you keep an eye out for Joaquín, though it is a little bit hard with everyone having the exact same uniform and haircut. It takes a little time but you do see him, somewhere in the middle of the pack of graduates. His face is neutral as he marches past, looking straight in front of him. He walks perfectly in sync with his fellow airmen.

As it wraps up, and all the graduates stand in their blues under the blazing Texas sun, You guide his Abuela, making sure she’s stable on the grass field as the three of you search for your husband in the sea of soldiers once again. 

The time comes when you finally lay eyes on him again. He’s standing right there, just a few feet away, his arms tucked behind his back the way that he was taught to do. His gaze is forward, and he doesn’t even fidget, a stark contrast from the Joaquín you last saw two months ago. His mom pushes you closer towards him.

“Go, Mija. Tap him out.” You whip your head around to look at her, shaking your head. 

“But-“ You're cut off by the wave of her hand.

“We got to do it yesterday. I think Quíno would like his wife now.” She takes Abuela’s hand to support her instead. They both usher you towards him, falling not too far behind.

It’s not long before you meet face to face. His gaze is forward but distinctly not on you, rather past you. You understand the rules. He’s not allowed to move from this position until you touch him. Your eyes can’t help but water at the sight of him, and even though you want nothing more than to touch him, you resist. 

“Joaquín…I am so proud of you. I missed you so much. I know it was hard to be away from us, but you’re just so strong. You’re stubborn, and just so so good. This is what you wanted, and I'm just glad I could be here to support you…” You watch as tears stream down his face, but he makes no move to wipe at them. The discipline and strength that he’s gained over these eight weeks is reflective in the way he’s holding himself now.

“I love you so much.” With that, you wrap your arms around him, effectively tapping him out. He immediately returns the embrace. You feel his tears drop against the crook of your neck as he holds you close. You press a kiss to his cheek, and he immediately pulls away so he can kiss you on the lips. It’s passionate, and comforting and it communicates exactly what he wants to say: ‘I missed you too.’ 

His mother and abuela not so subtly snap pictures of the two of you, but you really don’t even notice. All you can focus on is him. You wipe at his face, chuckling at his emotional reaction. It rubs off on him too, he chuckles and removes your hands from his face, pressing kisses to your knuckles.

“I love you too.” He whispers the words, and presses a kiss to your temple.

A/N: Feel free to leave comments and critiques. I'm always open to feedback !

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[waywardxrhea]

butterfly effect - Spencer Reid

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

part two of Casual

Spencer and Reader's first meeting is revealed along with how both are feeling in the aftermath of the restaurant debacle in part one.

word count: ~6.4k

content: 18+ minors DNI! language, angst! fluff (oh the fluff in this one is sickly sweet - i told y'all i don't like unhappy endings)! smut (i simply could not help myself because i've had this one line stuck in my head for weeks and it just so happened to transition very well in this piece i'm not sorry): oral [male receiving], unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms mentioned.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

now playing: butterfly effect by Sophie Holohan also a hint of vulnerable by Leanna Firestone <3

Then…

You watched as drops of condensation raced down the side of your iced coffee cup, lost in your own thoughts as you ignored the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk to your left. It was a sunny morning on your day off and you were at your favorite local coffee shop, trying to ignore your work responsibilities for as long as possible. You were doodling in the rustic looking parchment journal you had found at a thrift store when you went shopping with Celeste and Maddie yesterday, and you had become enthralled with butterflies once more. 

You had a hyperfixation on the beautiful creatures when you were younger and in some circles were ashamed to admit how much you knew about them. They were just so fascinating and beautiful, how could you not adore them? You knew that this cafe’s outdoor seating area was teeming with them during April due to their migratory pattern as well as all of the plant life they had blooming within all of the scattered pots seated throughout the patio, so it was the perfect time for catching glimpses of the creatures you had lost touch with for many years. 

A beautiful one with black and white coloring and long trailing wings fluttered by and you quickly snatched your cup and journal up as you went to follow the beautiful creature. If your memory served you right it was a Zebra Swallowtail, one you hadn’t seen since your childhood, and you were determined to capture its beauty in your new journal. 

Your journey following the butterfly was short-lived though, when as you quickly exited the patio’s gate you ran smack into someone! You felt your condensation coated cup leave your grip as it was crushed between your body and the stranger’s and your eyes went wide as the drink spilled down their front, completely soaking through the button up they were wearing. And to add insult to injury, the manilla folder that had been in their hands was now absorbing the liquid on the ground. 

With your now empty hand flying to cover your mouth, you began profusely apologizing, saying, “Oh my gosh I am so, so, so, so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going! You see, I saw this really pretty butterfly that I wanted to sketch and I didn’t want it to get away but now it has and I completely ruined your shirt and your file and you were probably on your way to work and now you’re going to be late because of me and smell like coffee the rest of the day and oh my gosh I am so sorry I am mortified right now!” By the end of your rambled on apology you had covered your face with your journal, afraid to look up at the person you had run into, especially after such a rambling and childish apology…

What surprised you was the person letting out a soft laugh in response to your rambling before telling you, “If you were going after something in the name of science I can’t exactly fault you for running into me. I likely would have done the same.” 

“You- What…?” you asked, risking a peek over the top of your journal, only to see the smiling face of a boyishly handsome man around your age with cropped and almost curly hair that fell slightly over his eyes. He was gorgeous. His melodic laugh rang out once more and it prompted you to lower the journal to your side fully, risking a glance at the damage your drink did. 

You cringed as you looked at his once pristine and pressed shirt, but your anxious thoughts were interrupted by him telling you, “You were going after a butterfly that you wanted to make an observation of in its habitat. As a man of science I can’t fault you for doing so.” He bent over to pick up his now thoroughly soaked file and offered a small smile as he came back up and added, “I’m Spencer by the way. I don’t exactly follow the science of lepidopterology, but it’s a fascinating subject. Do you study them for a living?”

You offered your name in turn before saying, “Oh, uh, no I- It’s just a sort of hyperfixation I’ve had on and off since I was a kid,” You felt an intense blush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks after the admission crossed your lips and you wished that the earth would open up beneath you and save you from yourself. Instead of just keeping your mouth shut though, you rambled on, “And now it’s probably ruined your day and routine and again I am so sorry! Were you heading in? I could buy your drink! It’s the least I can do after ruining…everything.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, I’m getting drinks for more than just me,” Spencer replied as he began opening his satchel bag and pulling out a sweater vest which he put on and covered the coffee stain on his front. “See, good as new. I have a change of clothes at the office anyway. Don’t worry about the shirt.” He waved the folder to get the droplets of coffee off and added, “And don’t worry about the file either. I have it memorized. Eidetic memory. Comes in handy for times like this.”

“Right…” you said, making a mental note to look up what that meant rather than assuming. You nodded awkwardly before gesturing toward the door and heading that way, telling him, “Well I’m gonna head back inside to get a drink to replace the one I dropped. We can at least discuss how I could repay you while we wait?”

“If you insist,” Spencer said before following your lead into the small shop, the little bell above the door ringing out to alert the workers that someone had entered. 

As you waited in line, you cleared your throat and asked awkwardly, “So, uh…what do you do for work?”

“I work for the FBI at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We basically use what’s called profiling to determine why people do what they do, specifically in the realm of killing people,” he told you as if it was a regular old nine to five and not what sounded like the most interesting job in the world. 

“I- Wow! That sounds so cool!” you stuttered out awkwardly. You mentally kicked yourself at the stupid reply, but before you could rectify the situation it was Spencer’s turn to order. You breathed a sigh of relief at the out and began scouring your brain for ways you could repay Spencer for the mishap outside. 

Once you ordered your replacement drink, you cleared your throat and shyly asked Spencer, “How about as an apology I take you to dinner? You choose where. I just feel really, really bad about spilling my drink on you…”

Spencer was silent for a beat before telling you, “I would like that. Thank you.” So before you two parted ways, Spencer wrote his number in your journal beside another butterfly you had been sketching and you sent him off with a warm smile while what felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies flew around in the pit of your stomach. 

Your dinner with Spencer got delayed when the BAU was requested to work a case in Oregon, but you were fine with that as it gave you more time to grapple with the fact that, no, this wasn’t a date. This was simply a business transaction because you had ruined the man’s clothes and case file. 

When Spencer returned after closing the case, you were finally ready to face the gorgeous man in what you hoped would be a platonic business-like way. That was until you saw his face again and heard his what turned out to be contagious laugh. He told you all kinds of fun facts about butterflies he had learned in preparation to have something to talk with you about and you practically had heart eyes as you listened to him ramble on and on about stuff even you didn’t know about the beautiful creatures. 

The spark you thought was there turned out to be mutual and by the end of the night, Spencer was back to your apartment and between your legs, sending you into the most blissful state you had been in in years. As you learned during your dinner, Spencer had a vast understanding of the human body and mind and it turned out that those skills translated to the bedroom as well. Needless to say, he had completely exhausted you and you fell asleep in his arms under your duvet, your legs entangled as you clung onto him like a koala. 

Waking up the morning after your dinner, Spencer began to come to his senses as he smelled bacon and pancakes being cooked and coffee lingering in the air of your apartment. At first he relaxed into the plush memory foam once more before he sat up with a start. What was he doing? He knew from current and former BAU members’ experiences, relationships while working for the unit were hard. The hours were odd and long, the mental toll of cases could be heavy at best and all consuming at most, and statistically the odds of someone in a relationship with an FBI agent - specifically a member of the BAU - becoming a target of a pissed off unsub was high. What if an unsub took you as a hostage in order to get to him? What if an unsub killed you as some cruel form of punishment for going after them? That wasn’t something he was willing to shoulder onto you, he thought as a shudder shook his whole body. 

But there was no way he wanted to let you go from his life altogether, so when he emerged into the combined dining and kitchen area to see you cooking in just a t-shirt and underwear, Spencer cleared his throat and greeted you with a good morning before asking tentatively, “Hey uh… I was just thinking… With my job with the BAU being what it is, could we…would you mind if we kept this casual? I had an amazing time with you at dinner and in…other places, but it’s historically difficult for an FBI agent to maintain a proper relationship and give their partner the attention they deserve while also giving cases the attention they need. Would…would that be something you would be okay with?” 

Spencer studied your body language as you concentrated on flipping the pancakes in front of you, doing so effortlessly as you nonchalantly replied, “If that’s what is easiest then yeah. I had a really good time last night too.” Relief flooded Spencer’s body at your response and he relaxed into the dining chair a bit more before standing up to pour himself some coffee and prepare it how he liked, content with the new arrangement he found himself in with the gorgeous and thoughtful woman in front of him. 

So that’s how it went on for the following months. Between Spencer’s cases and your shifts at work, the two of you managed to see each other more and more. Sometimes the evenings started at restaurants and some were initiated at either of your apartments when you were feeling particularly needy. 

Even though at first you were truly content with keeping things with Spencer casual, as time went on, you had started to develop feelings for the man. Feelings that sex alone couldn’t tame and that’s when you realized what you knew all along. That those butterflies you felt in your stomach during your first encounter were never a good sign. 

Now…

A knock on your apartment door broke you from your trance of zoning out whatever was playing on Netflix at the moment and you looked up at the clock hanging on the wall to realize it was nearly three o’clock. You had spent most of your day off zoned out in front of the TV lost in your own thoughts when you were supposed to go to lunch with Celeste hours ago. Looking at your phone you noticed all the missed calls and texts and rubbed your tired eyes as you groaned in frustration. 

The knock sounded once again before you heard Celeste’s voice calling out, “Are you in there? Do I need to call the cops for a welfare check?”

You attempted to smooth down your pjs before opening the door and telling her quietly, “No, I’m here. I’m sorry I flaked on lunch I didn’t mean to I just-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Celeste was wrapping you in a hug to end all hugs and asking softly, “What’s wrong?”

This simple question was always your downfall because the second that it was asked the floodgates opened and you began sobbing into Celeste’s shoulder. All of the tears you had denied yourself over the last week and a half finally began to freefall as you clung to your friend like she was a buoy out at sea and she was the only thing keeping you afloat. 

Celeste managed to maneuver the two of you back into the apartment and closed the door as you began rambling through your tight and broken voice, “At the restaurant…when we celebrated Adri…Spencer was there. We…we had sex in the bathroom but then he just finished and left me hanging. No explanation. Then I overheard his coworker call me Spencer’s love toy. He…he didn’t shut down the comment. I just thought I meant more to him than that… So I panicked and left. Almost had a panic attack outside when he came to talk with me. I thought he was going to comfort me but then he just reminded me, ‘no attachments.’” This whole spiel took you the greater part of five minutes to get out between sobs and trying to catch your breath, but Celeste being patient as always gave you her attention the whole time. You took a final deep breath before finishing with, “I really, really like him Celeste… I was a fool to think I meant more to him.”

Celeste thought on your words for the few moments it took to lead you toward the couch. She sat down and brought your head to rest on her thigh, gently detangling your hair with her fingers as she said, “I’m sorry that he made you feel that way. And I’m sorry we didn’t notice something was wrong before now. We’re your friends, we should be there for you through stuff like this.”

“It’s nothing you did,” you quickly told her. “Work kept me occupied this week so I tried to just ignore everything but then today I guess it all caught up to me…” Celeste nodded and you relaxed as she continued to mess with your hair. 

Her silence was broken when she finally said, “Not to play Devil’s advocate, because what he did was not okay, but have you thought about why he came out to check on you when you left?”

This question caused you to furrow your eyebrows together and think about it. Why did he come outside? None of the other BAU members were leaving. It was just him… You cleared your throat and admitted, “I uh… I didn’t think about that.” There was a beat of silence before you told her, “I haven’t told you guys much about his job besides that he works for the FBI, but he’s what they call a profiler. He can tell a lot about a person just by reading their body language. Maybe…”

When you trailed off, leaving your sentence unfinished, Celeste offered, “Maybe he knew you were upset from your body language so he came to comfort you?”

You thought about it for a second before telling her, “I mean maybe, but that wouldn’t explain-” Your sentence died in your throat as another knock sounded through the apartment. “Did you text Maddie or Adri?” you asked Celeste. 

“No,” Celeste replied as you began pulling yourself into a sitting position. “I’ll see who it is.”

As she did you started to realize how dehydrated you were, so you slowly made your way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As you stood, a dizzying feeling filled your head and darkness lined your peripheral vision, but you tried to ignore it as you made your way to the fridge. You vaguely heard the exchange happening at your door, but your attention was caught when Celeste called your name to get your attention. Looking up from your glass and Brita, you saw Spencer in your doorway with a bouquet of flowers and your heart gave an irregular stutter in your chest. “He says he wants to talk to you. Is that okay?” Celeste asked and you could hear the protective nature in her voice that Spencer was no doubt picking up on too. 

“Y-yeah,” you replied, nodding in case she couldn’t hear you across the room. 

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, eyeing Spencer’s tall form almost suspiciously as she did. 

“I think I’ll be okay,” you told her, offering her a small smile. “Thank you for coming to check on me. I’ll make lunch up to you next weekend.” Celeste nodded hesitantly before grabbing her purse off of the floor where she had dropped it and began making her way out. You were sure she would stay idled in the parking lot of the complex until you texted her that everything was okay, so you made a mental note to do so after this was over. Whatever this was. 

Taking a deep breath, you offered a quiet, “Hi,” to Spencer as he approached your dining area with the rather large bouquet in hand. That couldn’t have been cheap. 

“Hey,” he said, almost as quietly as you did. He cleared his throat and said, “I…I wanted to apologize for what happened last time we saw each other.” 

Nodding, you quickly wiped a stray tear away as you told him, “I was really hurt, Spencer.”

“I know that now. So that’s why I brought you these,” he reiterated as he offered the flowers out to you. “In flower language the white roses symbolize my remorse for what happened, my seeking of forgiveness, and my hope for a new beginning between the two of us. The pink hyacinths represent new love and fresh starts. The white hyacinths represent my wish for healing between us. And the pink tulips represent my asking for forgiveness and the sincerity behind my words.” You tentatively accepted the flowers and took a moment to breathe in their natural fragrance with closed eyes as Spencer rambled on, “Did you know that floriography has been practiced for thousands of years and was even used in theatrical works, most notably Shakespeare? A lot of people take for granted what the flowers they’re giving mean, but the meaning behind each one can offer you a great deal of insight into the mind of the giver.”

You tried to hide the small smile teasing your lips in response to Spencer’s ramblings which you always found endearing by searching your cabinets for a vase to put them in. With your back turned toward him, you cleared your throat and quietly told him, “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I just…” you pulled out a vase and let out a heavy sigh as you brought it to the sink to rinse out and fill with fresh water. “Fucking me in the restroom and just leaving before I got off without an explanation hurt. Hearing what Derek said, calling me your ‘love toy’ and you agreeing to it really hurt. I… I know you said no attachments, but… I’ve spent so much time with you and got to know you and I realized that I can’t do this whole casual thing anymore…” By the time you finished your statement, you had opened the flower food and put it into the water and hugged your arms to your body as you tried to make yourself smaller amidst the palpable tension in the room. 

“I could tell by your body language as you left the restaurant that something was wrong but I didn’t know what but I followed you out regardless because I knew something was wrong and wanted to try and fix it…” Spencer admitted. So Celeste was right about that… You didn’t have time to think about that though as Spencer continued, telling you, “I really messed up by leaving you in there after what I did, and it took me a while to realize what I did wrong because… Gosh now I really sound like an ass saying it out loud.” He scratched the back of his neck as he said, “I had calculated the longest average time an adult male takes in the restroom and was limiting myself to that time limit as we…did what we did in there. I knew that most of the team had seen you pass by and so I didn’t want them to think we were having sex in a restroom of all places. Not that I am ashamed to be with you at all, with you I’ve had the best few months of my life I think, but there are some aspects of my life I would like to keep private from them.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, unable to help the huff of a laugh that escaped your lips at the admission. What a truly Spencer reason to leave you hot and bothered. The bit about ‘the best few months of his life’ made your heart soar once again as you finally looked up to make eye contact with him. 

A smile broke out onto his lips when his eyes met yours and he slowly approached you as he rambled on, saying, “And about the whole response to what Derek said. I panicked. He’s usually the one who has all the girls and is some sort of expert love maker or something, and I’m way less experienced than that. So when he brought it up I didn’t know how to respond so I guess I just blurted out what would make me look cool to him. Which I realized was a mistake far too long after, when the team sort of had to give me a reality check…”

Just the next morning after the restaurant incident left Spencer reeling, trying to make sense of what happened between the two of you, the BAU was called out on a case. After the first two days on the case, JJ approached Spencer as they were packing up for the day and asked, “Spence, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I-” he tried to say but couldn’t finish as Emily too approached him while putting her hand up and shaking her head. 

“You’ve been moody. You don’t get moody for no reason,” she argued. 

“I’m not moody,” Spencer defended himself. 

“Yes you are, you’ve been off since that night at the Italian place. What happened?” JJ asked. By then more of the team had started to gather around and he noticed that even some of the locals had poked their heads up from their work to listen to what was now looking like an intervention. 

Spencer sighed and threw his hands up exasperatedly as he said, “Fine! You wanna know why I’ve been in a bad mood? It’s because she told me to go to Hell and since then I just…I haven’t been able to concentrate. She’s on my mind all the time and I’ve just been trying to figure out what I did wrong so I can fix it!”

“Oh so it’s a lovers spa-” Derek started to say.

“Don’t you go making more comments,” Spencer snapped, which made Derek freeze, the smile melting off of his mouth. “Your ‘love toy’ comment is one of the things that set her off. I know that for sure.”

“Okay so we know that. What else happened?” JJ asked as she took a seat in a chair nearby, seemingly fully concentrated on the conversation now. 

“I, uh…” Spencer faltered, feeling awkward about being open about his sex life in front of so many people seeing as how Hotch and Rossi had wandered into the space too. He felt heat creeping up into his cheeks as he blurted out, “We had sex in the bathroom and I had calculated how long I had before you guys got suspicious about what was happening so by the time that limit rolled around I had finished but didn’t have time to get her there but I still left because I didn’t want any of you to know what was going on.”

The response reminded him of the time they all found out you existed in the first place and he struggled to hear all of the comments. “Spencer Reid, you did what?!” came from Penelope. Emily groaned in frustration as she said, “We already all knew what was happening in that restroom!” One of the locals chimed in with, “Oh come on man, you can’t just leave her hanging like that!” “Yeah, you messed up big time,” was JJ’s snide remark as she leaned her head back and rolled her eyes. 

The chaotic chorus was interrupted by David clearing his throat to get the room’s attention. When the focus was on him, he wisely pointed out, “I think we can all agree that seeking forgiveness is what you need to do here. Do it right when we get back from the case.” The older man patted Spencer on the shoulder before continuing with, “Life isn’t going to slow down or wait for an ideal opportunity to make things right. If you really want things with this girl to work out, then you’re going to have to accept that there may be obstacles in the way and hurdles you both need to jump over. You have a village behind you, kid. A village that is willing to go to bat to protect both you and those you love. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again. The unknown shouldn’t be the reason you hold yourself back from what you really want. So go after her.”

Spencer’s large hands gently took yours into his and when you didn’t deny the touch, he squeezed them and told you, “You aren’t just an object or ‘love toy’ to me. I promise you that.” He took a shaking breath and you looked up to see tears rimming his eyes as he said, “I was just so scared of something happening to you because of my job that I denied my feelings for you. I have been targeted and taken by unsubs before, Hotch’s ex wife who was in witsec was tracked and killed, JJ’s family was targeted just a few weeks after we met… I didn’t want any of those things to happen to you. But I also didn’t want to lose you from my life so I made a deal with myself that we would keep things casual, but I never followed up after that first morning if that was okay with you…”

Tears began welling up in your eyes in response to his words. You knew that he said the job was tough on relationships, but you never thought too into what he was protecting you from… It showed that he truly cared in your eyes. That he had thought this through. 

You were too stunned to speak and the dizzy feeling returned in response to all of the new information. Seeming to notice this, he guided you to the couch in your sitting area and asked, “I trust you know what the butterfly effect is?”

“I do,” you confirmed, curious as to where this was going. 

“Well sometimes I get to thinking and I wonder what the probability of us meeting would have been if that butterfly hadn’t made you spill your drink on me. Think of it as an actualization of the theory. I calculated that the odds would have been slim to none considering how far off our lines of work are from each other and it makes me sad to think that in virtually every other reality we never met. Because you’ve changed my life. And yes, the sex is great, but so is the conversation! You are always so genuinely interested in what I have to say and it’s so refreshing because a lot of the people I’m close to have gotten tired of my ramblings over the years. I didn’t realize until I didn’t have you in my life anymore that I wanted to come home early from cases to be with you, and not just intimately. I wanted to come home to you in my apartment - what would be our apartment. To bring you flowers and your favorite chocolates. To cook dinner with you and watch your favorite movies. To show you my favorite books and read yours in return! I’m usually one to look at the statistics and facts of it all, but just this once I would like to believe that the butterfly effect is real and that it brought us together.”

“Spencer, I-” you started, but stopped as a quiet sob left your mouth and you covered it with your hand. When you regained your composure, you nodded and told him, “I want that too. So much. I want to come home to you reading impossibly fast through my entire book collection. I want to take trips to bookstores together. I want to make your favorite meal when you get home from a case no matter what time of day it is. I want to properly meet your teammates from the BAU. I want it all. Because I-” you stopped your rambling once more before too much came out. 

You didn’t have to worry about it though, because Spencer took the words right out of your mouth as he said, “I love you.”

You felt weightless in response to his confession and you felt the biggest smile break out onto your face before you whispered back, “I love you too.” 

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked as he leaned his forehead on yours. 

“Always,” you replied, the smile on your lips evident in your voice. 

The kiss was the most gentle one Spencer had ever given you and you felt your heart soar and a kaleidoscope of butterflies explode in your stomach once more, reminding you of the day you met. And this time you were sure that Spencer wouldn’t let your soaring heart fall. 

After a few moments though, gone was the gentle kiss that brought you two back together. Soon the kiss was filled with need and desire as you finally noticed the reaction that your body had been having to the man who was now under your hips as you straddled him. Desire once more guided your actions as you moved your hips on Spencer’s, feeling his arousal starting to grow as you lapped into each others’ mouth. 

A low and muffled groan left Spencer’s mouth as he moved his hands to rest on your ass and began massaging in time with the sway of your hips. At the same time as you began to ask, “Can I-?” Spencer was whispering, “I need-” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth before you began moving off of him and down onto the floor between his spread legs, saying, “I take it we’re on the same page then?”

“Yes,” was his instant response as his lust filled eyes looked down at you on your knees between his legs, your hands gliding up his thighs and to his belt buckle. After getting the belt undone you of course took a moment to tease his stiff member, earning a small buck of his hips and a beg of, “Please,” almost whimpered from his lips. 

“How can I no to that?” you asked with a small smile on your lips as you began to unbutton and unzip Spencer’s slacks. When you pulled his slacks and underwear down in one fell swoop, you smiled up at Spencer as you asked, “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

“A-a few times. Shit-” he moaned out as you began teasing his head with your tongue, focusing on the spot on the underside just below the head that you knew drove him crazy. When you took him into your mouth fully, one of Spencer’s hands flew right into your hair, lightly tugging as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could. 

You bobbed up and down a few times before hollowing out your cheeks around him and as you did, the grip he had on your hair tightened and you let out a low moan in the back of your throat at the feeling. Spencer’s response was instant, letting out a loud moan into the otherwise quiet room that sounded somewhat like your name. Within seconds though, he was tapping at your temple and whispering, “W-wait. Stop.”

You instantly stopped what you were doing, feeling your heart clench at the words. Wiping the excess spit from your chin, you said quietly, “I-I’m sorry did I do something-?”

“No, no, no you didn’t do anything wrong, I just…” Spencer said as his chest heaved. “I want to do this the right way. I want to make love to you.” 

Your mouth opened slightly in response to the words as you sat back on the floor, shocked at the implication. Before you could come up with a response, Spencer was pulling you up from the floor and coaxing your oversized t-shirt off, revealing that you had not been wearing a bra this whole time which made him groan as he began toying with your now fully exposed breast. He began kissing you once more and a whimper escaped your mouth as he began toying with your hard nipple and you began pushing at his vest and button up, silently telling him to get rid of them. 

During all of this, the two of you began fumbling toward your bedroom, dropping clothes as you went and leaving a trail from the couch to your bed. When the backs of your knees met the edge of the bed, Spencer collapsed on top of you which ended up with you in a fit of giggles as he rolled both you and himself over to be in the bed properly. When you were comfortably on the pillow, you teasingly asked, “So what does love making entail, Doctor?”

“Something more gentle than I usually give you,” he replied as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Something more meaningful,” he added as he pushed in slowly. 

The stretch around Spencer was something you needed a moment to adjust to and he gave you time to do so as he buried his face into your neck and let out what sounded like a relieved sigh. This was already a change of pace. Usually the two of you were so needy, he never gave you time to adjust to his size and you always took the sting in stride with the pounding he usually gave you, but this…this was different. It felt new. It was gentle. 

Wrapping your legs around Spencer’s waist, you sighed contentedly before whispering, “You can move.”

And so he did, starting off with small thrusts that you were sure he was doing so he didn’t lose it right then and there after the oral you had just given him before you started. But then they transitioned into long and languid strokes, almost completely pulling out from you before slowly pushing back in. At one point Spencer grabbed a small throw pillow you had on the bed and lifted your hips to place it under them and from that moment you knew you were a goner. The angle made it easier for him to hit that spongy spot within your walls and you let out an almost pornographic moan when he did. Over and over again. 

“You sound so beautiful,” Spencer grunted out which made you open your eyes to look up at him. You were met with his smile as he reiterated, “You are so beautiful.”

The compliment had your body reeling and you felt the coil in your abdomen tightening as he continued to brush over that spot within you. “Spencer, I-” your words were cut off by a moan when he brought the hand now not supporting his body weight to your clit and began rubbing gentle circles on it. Your breathing began to become labored as the pleasure continued to mount until it was almost too much. “I’m close,” you told him, feeling your core starting to twitch around him as he filled you up so well. 

“Me too, sweet girl,” Spencer panted out, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to your lips. 

As cheesy as it is to say, the tender moment was what broke you. A litany of pleasure filled sounds escaped your mouth that were swallowed by Spencer’s as he picked up his pace just the slightest bit as you began contracting around him, your orgasm ripping through your body in the most intense way possible. Spencer followed behind you quickly, burying his head into your neck once more as he moaned out his pleasure between sloppy kisses placed on your throat. 

Spencer collapsed slightly on top of you, slightly to the side as he slipped out of you, some of his release following suit as you both breathed heavily in the aftermath of what you would deem the most pleasurable sex you had ever had. With hands wandering in mindless shapes over your body, Spencer mumbled into your skin, “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“I love you too,” you told him with a smile on your lips. You never wanted to let go of this feeling. 

A few minutes passed of just basking in each other’s warm embrace before Spencer raised his head and kissed your lips, telling you, “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m thinking that after we shower I can take you to dinner? On a proper date?” 

“I would love that,” you replied as he helped you off the bed and into the shower. 

That night after dinner Spencer outdid himself with the love making, somehow managing to drag three more orgasms out of you, each more intense than the last. As you laid there in bed that night with Spencer’s arm draped over you, you silently thanked the world for sending that butterfly into your path that fateful morning.

a/n: thank you all so much for the outpouring of love on Casual! i really hope this lived up to expectations that may have been built after the first part! Derek still hasn't been redeemed and Reader still hasn't properly met the BAU team (especially Rossi who was honestly the MVP here), so i'm thinking we'll see each other again in a potential part three? ;)

part three: Right Person, Right Time

taglist: @spicyspirit @misserabella @lillianacristina @lullvu

those who didn't ask to be tagged but y'all were so kind in the comments so i will anyways to make sure you see this post <3 (apologizes if i am overstepping by tagging)

@lilrios-world @theylovemelody @lea24sposts @espressoparis @crazy4books1 @i-live-in-spite @mega-kittyglitter-1 @rumplereids

[feverish-dove]

Hiihihi

I just wanted to say I really liked the way you wrote Senku!!! :3 and I was wondering if you had any more thoughts on the guy. Headcannons, or quite literally anything. Truthfully, I just wanna hear you yap about him. (Hes an Obsession 💔) Full liberty to write whatever that comes to your mind!!!

(and I completely understand if you don't. Just wanted to let you know how much I liked your thoughts on him :))

Senku Headcanons

Holy shit i'm sorry this took so long. It was not my intention to leave y'all hanging for so long. Especially for an ask when I said my inbox was open. Life's been crazy but that's no excuse. Also really weird question but I ended up making myself a Seto Kaiba (yes from Yu-gi-oh!) multipart fic as a birthday gift to me. lmk if anyone is interested in me publishing it lol. One more thing like two other people tagged me in a song trend and I swear I'll get to it too! I just don't know who to tag next haha. Senku Ishigami x Reader warnings: minor spoilers but they're not really important word count: 2,064 not cross posted on any other platform

Pre-Petrification

Y’all probably started out as classmates who argued about your specific hyperfixation interest lmao.

He noticed you because you challenged him—not emotionally, but intellectually. Most people couldn’t keep up, but you corrected him and were right. (You were NOT playing. It was more than likely something stupid like FNAF.)

He totally pretended he wasn’t interested at first. Played it cool, but Taiju saw the way Senku looked at you when you talked about your interests.

Homeboy wants to learn everything about everything. Hence his sudden bugging about your knowledge on a topic he isn’t fully educated on.

You both stayed after school often—him for his experiments, you for your own interests. Eventually, you started hanging out by accident more often than not.

He offered you coffee from a vending machine one day and casually said, “It’s statistically proven that shared caffeine intake boosts cognitive synergy.” You think that was his weird way of flirting.

The first time you called him out for overworking, he smirked and said, “Tch. Worrying about me already?” You replied, “Obviously.”

He confessed in a weirdly clinical way: “I’ve run the numbers. Being with you would significantly enhance my quality of life. Wanna test that theory together?” (Listen I know this sounds lame but go rewatch the first episode I promise you he talked like this T^T second hand embarrassment rewatch.)

You said yes in the most nonchalant way possible. By jumping up and down.

Taiju had no idea this was coming.

Yuzuriha knew this was coming.

He wasn’t very physically affectionate at first—he’d tap your hand when passing notes or adjust your collar like it was nothing, but it meant everything.

You helped him with a big experiment once, and he added your name to the credits. You argued that Taiju did way more work, so he should get the credit! Taiju just laughed you off.

Senku just wanted your name written next to his permanently. He published the document so you’ll be metaphorically stuck with him forever since nothing truly gets erased once it’s on the internet. Unless of course humanity was going to turn into stone but what's the likelihood of that?

Your first kiss wasn’t planned. You were mid-argument about the stupidest possible thing you could think of, and he just leaned in and kissed you to shut you up. “There. Now can we get back to the part where I’m right?” This just caused the fight to escalate because him, ‘right?’ Who does he think he is? You were totally winning!

He starts explaining things differently to you—not because he thinks you don’t get it, but because he enjoys seeing your reactions.

This is also how y’all became known as that couple who is always on facetime instead of just calling one another. (I get it, I too watch those gacha reaction videos at my grown age.)

When the petrification hit, he was thinking about you. Not in a romantic way like Taiju did with Yuzuriha, but instead in a, “it’s been about 1,245 years so far so they should be at ‘x’ coordinates because they were at ‘y’ when the beam hit.” “Clothing needs to take higher priority than initial calculations. They might not be comfortable being naked in the wild, extreme scenario or not.” Etc.

Stone World

Senku doesn’t realize he likes you right away. He’s hyper focused on survival, but you keep showing up to help—always curious, always sharp.

You challenge his ideas, not to be rude, but to push him further. That’s what gets his attention.

One day you show up with materials he didn’t ask for but desperately needed. He stares at you and says, “…You’re terrifyingly efficient. I like that.”

When you’re injured, he freaks out silently. He’s cold and efficient treating the wound, but he doesn’t sleep that night.

He builds you your own workstation so you can tinker with him. No one else gets one. Chrome whines because yuo don’t even use it half the time!

Gen teases him constantly. “Senku, your little lab assistant’s got you all flustered—should I schedule the wedding, or…?”

He confesses in the least romantic way possible: “I don’t believe in fate, but statistically, I’d rather build civilization with you than without you.” You had no idea it was a confession until he later refers to you as his girlfriend. It’s as much of a shock to you as it is the rest of the villagers.

You tried to kiss his cheek for sharing the cotton candy with Homura. Instead you ended up kissing his lips by accident. Your first kiss tastes like mineral water and burnt sugar from failed wire experiments.

Senku tries to pretend nothing changed after you get together, but he starts letting you touch his stuff. That’s a big deal. The village only has so much material to come by, after all.

You once called him “handsome” absentmindedly. He froze mid-step, dropped his charcoal pencil, and never brought it up again. But he remembers.

You’re the only one allowed to sit on his lap while he sketches blueprints. Sometimes he forgets you’re there until you shuffle. (Note: this does not work when he gets the invention idea at first. He gets too excited and wiggles too much. It’s only for refinement.)

Speaking of notes, congratulations, your new status as being around Senku 24/7 means you’re the official Note Taker of the new world! Title Pending.

“bUt FeVeR, dOn’T tHeY aLrEaDy HaVe A rEpOrTeR?” Shut up, I said what I said. You’re more recording data and experiments to make the first books and logs rather than make a record of history. Your beloved boyfriend is the one who gave you this task because he hates you. Jk. It’s because he doesn’t have enough hands to write everything down and conduct experiments at the same time so you have to do it for him.

Speaking of which, Senku is a certified yapper. Don’t let his nonchalant persona trick you, he’s anything but chill. If you also go off on tangents Gen is probably the one forced to break you both out of your excitement… again. (Listen they tried Chrome but he just joined in and Kohaku will not hesitate to beat both your asses so Gen it is. Poor guy lol.)

He’s not big on traditional affection, is what a liar will tell you. If anything you’re the one less prone to PDA. Now I say this but it comes with terms and conditions. Senku’s a busy guy, he likes to use his mouth–hold up–for giving instructions. So kisses are more rare. He also needs his hands for crafting, writing, just about anything really. So while he does like hand holding it’s a bit harder to get to. Which leaves y’all mostly just leaning against each other to show affection.

He does cuddle though. If it’s hot he’ll complain but that’s just because he likes to run his smart-ass mouth.

The villagers think you’re married already because you’re always beside him. And caveman laws. Senku won’t correct them.

Bonus: one day, he casually hands you something shiny and says, “This alloy’s rare. Only made it for one person.” That’s how you get your engagement ring—made from meteorite metal.

General

He’s incredibly observant, even when he seems distracted. If you so much as wince from a splinter, he’s already pulling out tweezers and homemade antiseptic.

Pet names are rare, but he sometimes calls you “Einstein,” “my lab partner,” or “miracle cure,” depending on his mood and what you’ve helped him with.

He won’t say “I love you” often, but he builds entire systems and tools just to make your life easier. That’s his way of saying it.

He builds you a custom gadget that only you can use. It’s completely unnecessary in the most loving way possible. Might even make it so on purpose just so you think of him, even if it is because of annoyance. Little shit.

Senku teaches you science constantly, even when you’re just trying to nap. He says knowledge is the ultimate gift. You say he is. He says you’re trying to distract him. You were.

When he works too hard and skips meals, you force-feed him ramen. He grumbles, but later admits you’re the only one who can make him willingly slow down.

You’re the only one allowed to mess with his hair. He pretends to complain but leans into your touch when you pull it back or wash it. Lives for your head scratches. Me too girl, me too.

He keeps small souvenirs of you in his lab coat—notes, dried flowers, a tiny bead you once gave him—and says it’s “just sentimental chemical bonding.”

Cuddles aren’t rare, but when he crashes from exhaustion, he clings like a koala and refuses to let go until morning.

He blushes like mad if you kiss him in public, but not because he’s shy—it’s because his brain short-circuits with affection.

If you get sick, he goes overboard researching herbal and chemical remedies, refuses to sleep until you’re better. Gets sick afterwards.

He gets quietly jealous when others impress you—then doubles down on his own projects to one-up them.

He lets you be the first to see every new invention, no matter how trivial. Your reaction matters more than the scientific community’s.

He absolutely remembers every important date (your birthday, anniversary, the first time you kissed). He’ll never make a big show of it, is the first lie he ever tells you.

If you’re sad, he gives you rocks that glow in the dark, handmade magnets, or funny contraptions to make you smile. Shiny rock theory anyone?

You once joked you wanted a robot. He built you one. It only says one phrase: “Senku says drink water.” Because he’s a petty asshole and you wouldn’t have passed out on the track field if you just listened to him! (Really trying to think of a Mecha Senku joke but I can’t. All I got is clang, bang, bang.)

He respects your boundaries like a contractual agreement. If you say “no,” he steps back 10 paces and documents your preferences for future reference.

You’re the only one allowed to tease him without being hit with a snarky comeback. He just smirks and says, “Tch. Fine. You win this one.”

Any inventions that might mildly convenience your life he will 100% make extra just for you. Like when he made a hair conditioner. (Shameless plug here, y’all should read my ‘Sun Kissed Science’ because it’s about him inventing sunscreen for you.)

If you cry, he freezes up, then offers you logical comfort “It’s a temporary emotional spike, we’ll regulate the cortisol levels.” Yes he does get better about this if it’s after petrification.

He teaches you math with rocks and sticks, and you somehow end up loving it because he makes it sound like magic. (That one Tumblr post that’s like “I told him to teach me about physics the same way he talks about poetry.” Or something idk I can’t remember.)

If anyone flirts with you, Senku swoops in with cold facts that thoroughly humiliate them. “You do know flirting with someone in a committed relationship is statistically foolish, right?”

When he’s working late, he lets you fall asleep in his lab, covering you with his jacket without waking you.

He grins like a devil when you match his sarcasm. He’s met his chaos equal and loves it.

He has a specific notebook labeled with your name. It contains sketches, formulas inspired by you, and a list of projects to make your life easier. It’s made of leather and crappy paper and love.

Gen called you “Senku’s moon” because he claims you’re the one constant that keeps his tides in check. He only said this to Senku but you’ll never know since he’s too embarrassed. He has absolutely threatened Genw ith manual labor if he spills.

You once called him “hot” during an argument, and he nearly walked into a tree. He denies it, but Kohaku saw.

When the two of you argue, it turns into a debate show. People bring snacks. You both win.

He secretly carved your initials into a spot behind the observatory, visible only when the sun sets just right.

He doesn’t believe in fate, but when you touch him, he swears his neurons fire in patterns he can’t explain—and that’s saying something.

@mylostleftfootsock im so sorry for the wait!

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 8 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HAPPY ONE MONTH ANNIVERSARY TO AURORA!!! I can't even believe I got this far with this fic. Fucking 50k+ words in a month??? Hyperfixation REALLY go boom! It also happens to be my birthday today 🫠 my age is definitely starting to sound WAY TOO SERIOUS now. welp. ANYWAYS - an anon motivated me to create a playlist for aurora, so here it is!!! These are some of the songs that I listen on repeat when I'm writing. Not all of the lyrics have anything to do with the story tho, some just match the vibe of the fic. Though, if I had to choose a "theme song" for Aurora, it'd definitely be Darkness At The Heart of My Love - Ghost. I know metal isn't everybody's cup of tea but in my brain, vampires = metal. And specifically Castlevania = Rammstein for some reason lmao. Anyway!! I hope you guys give it at least (1) listen, as I really think the playlist encapsules the vibes I'm trying to portray in my writing very well. ANYWAYS!!! LET ME SHUT UP!! ENJOY THIS BEAST OF A CHAPTER <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

? Years Ago

Jerash, Ottoman Empire

The moon was hidden behind heavy storm clouds that night.

The rain whipped against the walls and ceiling of the humble house. It consisted of only two rooms – the kitchen and a tiny bedroom with simple wooden furniture. One would consider it the house of a common peasant, but the hundreds of books piled over one another indicated otherwise. They were everywhere: over the table, stored on shelves, precarious bookcases and boxes… some looked ancient, some looked new. Some had intricate leather covers, beautiful handwriting and illustrations, while others were nothing but a bunch of pages with incomprehensible scribbles. It was even difficult to walk into the house without stepping over one.

The place smelled of spices. Many types of dried herbs were hanging around the kitchen. Different types of stones of all colors and sizes rested over the closed windowsill: quartz, crystals, amethysts, obsidian, malachites… colorful bird feathers were tied by threads in intricate designs, also hanging from the ceiling. All of that was supposed to provide “protection” against the “evil”, apparently.

Drolta hated that place.

No… hate was too strong of a word. To hate someone or something, you must care about it enough, and Drolta didn’t. She was… disgusted. All the dirt, the simplicity, the cheap magic that wouldn’t even hurt a fly… it was boring.

And the owner of that house was especially disgusting.

That short, bald creature finally appeared from inside the bedroom, carrying a heavy book in hands and an annoying large smile. When all this ended – and hopefully it would end very soon –, Drolta would make sure to kill this little man and take a long, really long bath to take his smell off her skin. She didn’t even plan on feeding off him. He didn’t deserve it. Drolta refused to drink from a neck that wasn’t soft, young and feminine.

“Here it is. The product of all of my researches over the years,” he claimed proudly. What was even his name? Was it Khalil? She didn’t remember. Before looking at her face, his eyes stopped for two seconds on her cleavage. He did it every time and hadn’t been trying to hide it ever since Drolta stepped foot into this thing he called home.

Men… oh, how easy men are. Drolta witnessed multiple changes in the world during her long lifetime. She saw empires rise and fall, cultures cease to exist, philosophies and religions sweep the Earth. But one thing that had never changed over all this time was the simplicity of men. All she needed to do was put on a tighter corset, a deeper cleavage… and she had him on the palm of her hand. Drolta didn’t even need to try much much harder. This little Khalil man was the type she despised the most: the needy type. Never got married. Judged too strange by his fellow villagers. Probably never felt the touch of a woman. He was desperate.

But he had something that Drolta valued after all: knowledge. There was a time when the world was full of magicians. Speakers, priestesses, witches, oracles, shamans, alchemists… actual scholars of the ways of magic. But that was before the fucking Church. Now, apparently, all humans knew how to do was kneel and pray for a God that could not grant them any power.

Drolta was aware that she was partially at fault in all this. However, she would redeem herself soon.

When she finally succeeded in bringing Sekhmet back to life, this Earth would know what a real Goddess is. A Goddess with real power, real impact, who could bring real fear and obedience and adoration.

Soon, she thought to herself. I can feel it. She will come back soon. I will bring her back soon.

So many centuries of preparation. So many sun cycles searching for the right candidate. She had finally, finally encountered someone whose body managed to withstand Sekhmet’s power. Erszebet Bathory grew more powerful every day; the holy blood she drank was slowly but surely changing her body, her soul, empowering her. Drolta could feel Sekhmet’s presence in this world getting stronger. She could feel her goddess through Erszebet, talking through her, striving to resurface through that vessel. Everything was going so well.

And yet – all of her effort was still not enough, because half of Sekhmet’s soul was still missing.

Aside from taking care of the vessel, Drolta and her sisters roamed Earth after the Ba – Sekhmet’s mummy. For some reason, it was always out of reach: stolen from someone, bought by someone, then stolen again, then auctioned… Drolta was always too late. She prayed, prayed, prayed ardently that her beloved Goddess would help her from the other side, give her a sign, maybe twist things a bit so she could have a chance… but oh, she knew her Goddess was too weak to help. Drolta knew she would have to find a way.

And although all odds seemed to be working against her, Drolta found another way. Drolta thought of another chance.

As far as her associates scattered around the world knew, the mummy was lost forever. She completely lost track of it somewhere in the Horn of Africa; the last news she heard about it was years ago. As much as Drolta despised the idea – as much as she’d like to personally torture whoever committed such blasphemy towards the body of Sekhmet –, she had to be realistic and assume that the mummy was, perhaps, definitely gone.

But Drolta wouldn’t let herself be drowned by despair. No. Despair was the enemy of reason. She had to be strong – for Sekhmet, for her sisters, for her goal.

So another idea grew into her mind.

Drolta was under possession of Sekhmet’s blood, the Ka; the Goddess’ Ba, the mummy, was out of reach.

And then there was the third piece of her soul which was also out of reach.

Except… maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe there was a way to reach into it.

Yes, she knew no one had ever managed to do it. Yes, she knew the possibility of failure was high. Yes, she knew that, perhaps, it was all but a delusion. However, Drolta couldn’t be sure without trying first. If there was even the smallest possibility of it working, she would go on with it.

She had to do it – and do it fast. Drolta had never met anyone that could take so much of Sekhmet’s blood, but even her couldn’t take much more; the Goddess needed her other half.She could not lose Erszebet; she would do anything in her power to keep that woman safe.

Which led Drolta to this annoying mortal man.

He was disgusting. He smelled bad. He had the audacity of assuming he was going to fuck her. And still, he was an alchemist – and there weren’t many alchemists in the world anymore. Not good ones, at least. Drolta wasted her time going after a famous alchemist in China months ago, but she turned out to be a charlatan. As far as Drolta knew, this one was real. Maybe not powerful like mortal alchemists used to be, but he could do the job.

“From the information I have gathered, it hasn’t been tried in centuries,” Khalil spoke with amazement and reverence. It truly was the work of his life, apparently. “Not many scholars even believe it happened, in fact… it is under deep discussion. However, the ones that believe it, report that the occurrence happened in Wallachia, when a certain alchemist tried to… well…”

Khalil averted his eyes, seeming embarrassed and hesitant. Oh, the traits of a man that has been laughed at and ridiculed his entire life. Drolta felt grateful that he was this way. Much easier to deal with.

She rested her hand on his forearm and looked at him with round, curious eyes – even though she already knew what he was trying to say.

“Tried to what? Please, tell me,” she asked in a honeyed voice.

Khalil probably had an erection at that moment. His face flushed and he smiled.

“Tried to bring D-Dracula back to life,” he finally let out. “Yeah, I know it sounds absurd. I-I mean, Dracula? The folk tale to scare kids? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t find it absurd at all,” Drolta said, shaking her head softly. “Please, continue.”

The man averted his gaze from hers sheepishly, holding the book just a tiny bit stronger.

“Y-You are the first person to ever take me seriously, Miss Danubia,” Danubia? Oh… it’s the name she made up for herself. She had almost forgotten. “I… I really appreciate it.”

What, are you going to cry? Spare me.

Drolta caressed his arm softly.

“I admire your intelligence. I’d sit with you and talk for hours about all of your discoveries,” the idea sickened her, in fact. But Drolta couldn’t just force him to do anything. As far as she knew, the entire process had to be done willingly, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

For fuck’s sake, it really looked like he wanted to cry. Khalil blinked rapidly and looked down at the book again.

“Apparently, the portal was opened directly into Hell in order to retrieve Dracula’s soul. But it’s entirely possible that, through this same ritual, I could try to reach into other realms, too…” For the first time, Khalil looked hesitant. He gulped. “Though, if I’m to be completely honest, Miss Danubia, I do not believe I have the expertise needed to lead such a powerful ritual.”

Drolta stepped back, letting go of his forearm.

Khalil looked up at her, slightly startled at her sudden lack of touch.

But then, Drolta looked down, putting her hands over her chest and…

Tears welled up her eyes.

“I-I wish you could understand my pain and my despair, Khalil,” she started, voice trembling. “My mother… my dear mother. I could never tell her goodbye before her death. She had such a painful, slow death…” Drolta looked at him again, a single tear streaming down her cheek. “I do not wish to retrieve her soul, Khalil; I understand this goes against the laws of nature. I just want to… talk to her. In my culture, we believe that the souls of our deceased goes to the duat. If I can just get a peek of it… just look at her face once more… you will have my eternal gratitude. I-I can’t let this chance go by…”

Drolta covered her mouth and sobbed. With the corner of her eyes, she saw Khalil rush to put the heavy book over the table and bring her a handkerchief. She didn’t want to put that stinky thing near her face, but took it anyway and wiped her tears delicately.

Khalil pressed his lips together. All the hesitance was gone, being replaced by determination.

“I believe I can do it, Miss Danubia.” He inhaled before speaking. “The g-good feelings I have for you will be my guide and shield.”

Drolta offered him a sweet smile and a fragile thank you.

Khalil took off his coat and pushed the small table to the farthest corner of the room. He then took a piece of white chalk and started to draw something on the floor.

“This is the symbol of Osiris, Egyptian god of the Underworld… or the duat,” he explained while he drew. As if Drolta didn’t already know it. Yet, she acted shocked, trying to engage him in conversation as he lit a circle of candles around the hieroglyph. She needed him content and willing. Mortals work better when they are in their best feelings; they tend to put much more of their force into what they are doing, and this, in magic terms, was extremely meaningful.

Drolta loathed the fact that she needed this man happy to achieve her goal, but it was necessary. Well, if not happy, then hard. Sexual energy can also be extremely powerful.

After Khalil finished his preparations for the ritual, Drolta approached him and held his hand.

The man visibly held his breath.

It was so easy for her to send him that sweet gaze. So easy to trap his entire attention on her, as if Drolta became the very air in his lungs. She leaned down slightly and pressed her soft lips on his cheek, making sure to stay there a second longer than necessary, before leaning away a delivering a smile that showed quiet sadness and care.

“If you succeed, Khalil, you will have my heart eternally,” she purred in an almost whisper.

He was shocked.

It really looked like he couldn’t breathe.

Finally, he managed to crack a smile. He puffed his chest like a pathetic male bird and nodded as Drolta stepped away.

“I will, my lady. For you.”

She held back laughter.

Finally, Khalil took his heavy book again and stood near the candle ring. The flames projected eerie shadows around the walls; the outside storm was everything they could hear. He placed the book in front of his feet and took a small knife from his pocket.

“Blood is required to initiate the ritual,” he explained. “You can look away if it makes you uncomfortable, my lady.”

Khalil didn’t see when she rolled her eyes this time.

He swiped the knife on his palm, wincing in pain as he did. Weak little human, can’t even stand a cut without crying. He let blood drip over the symbol on the floor before walking back to the candle ring and taking the book in his hands once more.

He took a deep breath before finally initiating the spell.

His pronunciation of Akkadian was bad. Laughable, even. Drolta could barely understand half of the words. And yet, it was enough.

The candles trembled. The air within the house got colder. Drolta felt the floor beneath her feet shake slightly, the air vibrate in a high frequency – the frequency of high magic.

It was working.

A grin slowly grew on her lips. She… underestimated this little man after all. He was an actual alchemist – but the ritual was only working because of her efforts, she realized. Khalil was putting all of his love into the spell. Yes, actual love. How such a naive creature fell in love with her so quickly after a few days of knowing each other was beyond her.

Love is also extremely powerful in magical terms.

The storm grew angrier out there. A thunder so loud and so close shook the entire house, made Khalil lost his focus for a second before continuing to read the spell.

Followed by another thunder – even closer this time.

And another thunder.

The ground shook. Some books fell from the shelves. Khalil lifted his head and looked towards the window.

There was another sound mixed within the cacophony of the heavy storm.

Screams.

What was that out there? Was the house of his neighbor burning?

“W-What is–?” Khalil stuttered.

He hadn’t noticed that Drolta was towering right behind him. How did she get so close so fast?

She held his head with both hands from behind, guiding it down towards the book again.

“Keep reading,” she instructed in a quiet whisper, her mouth close to his ear.

A violent shiver ran down Khalil’s spine.

For the first time, Drolta’s presence made him feel uneasy. Her voice changed drastically; it wasn’t welcoming anymore, or warm, or caring. It was just freezing cold. It… it didn’t even sound much human.

All these talismans he hung around his house for protection – and yet the worst evil he could possibly imagine was standing right behind him, welcomed by him with open arms.

Another thunder. Another fire. Another house burning down. A few more souls to fuel the spell.

Khalil could be a real alchemist, but he was far from being a good one, Drolta remarked to herself. All of those books taught him nothing – again, she had to do most of the job. In the few days she worked on gaining his trust, she also made sure to mark every house in the village of Jerash with the symbol or Osiris. Marked it with virgin blood to make it even more effective.

Every respectable alchemist knew that in order to open a door into the Infinite Corridor, multiple mortal lives were required. That is why most alchemists weren’t brave enough to do it.

Khalil wouldn’t be brave enough to do it too if he knew what it’d cost. That is why Drolta lured him into it and made the preparations behind his back.

Drolta chuckled. How he must had been feeling at that moment, knowing he sacrificed hundreds of lives of his fellow villagers in the hopes of sticking his tiny penis inside of her?

“I told you to keep reading,” she repeated, and this time her voice sounded like a dangerous hiss.

Khalil’s hands trembled. He gulped. His voice wasn’t as confident anymore, but he had already initiated the ritual; there was no coming back from there.

The floor shook as more souls were reaped into the spell. Suddenly, the windows opened all at once; the ceiling cracked and was swiped away by a violent gush of wind. Drolta looked up in time to see a funnel of souls converging into a single streak of red light, being attracted by the symbol of Osiris on the floor; they made a twister within the circle of candles that were somehow still lit despite everything.

Wind and rain whipped Drolta and Khalil, made his books fly in all directions. None of that bothered Drolta. She had a maniacal grin on her lips, eyes locked in the chaos unveiling in front of her eyes.

Finally, finally, finally, a white crack slashed the air inside the candle ring. A crack in reality itself.

Freezing cold wind came out of it. The crack was slowly but surely getting wider. It made Drolta’s eyes widen, shivers run her body; few times in her life did she witness magic so powerful, so strong, so chilling.

It was working. It was finally working.

She stepped aside from a shell-shocked Khalil and extended her arms in a wide movement, the smile never vanishing from her lips.

A door to the Infinite Corridor, opened right in front of her eyes.

And yet – her work wasn’t done. This door needed to be redirected; it needed to be aimed at the right place.

“Oh Sekhmet, Eye or Ra, Lady of Terror, Mistress of Dread, She Who Mauls; hear mine calling, let thou be guided by the voice of thy loyal servant!” Drolta chanted with all her might, raising her voice as to be heard beyond the storm and the magic and the weeping souls.

The crack got a bit wider. Insurmountable amount of energy escaped from inside. Drolta didn’t even know if Khalil could stand in front of it much longer, given how weak he was, so she needed to rush.

“Hear mine call, Your Magnificence!” Drolta continued, gesticulating in wide movements. “Let mine voice guide thee through the waters of the primordial abyss; let thy Akh resurface in the land of the living. Oh Sekhmet, Lady of Slaughter, She of Ten Thousand Names; walk back into thy rightful realm, retake the throne unfairly taken from thee, wear thy rightful crown once more!”

The crack got wider, wider, wider. It was difficult to understand what could be seen inside of it; it looked like a confusing kaleidoscope. Different images jumped in the blink of an eye, landscapes not even Drolta could understand. And yet, she kept chanting, hoping her energy would be the necessary guide. The mark of Osiris burned in bright red.

Finally – the image within the crack seemed to stabilize itself.

Drolta’s eyes widened.

She saw a… calm river. A temple made of gold in the distance, sitting atop of an island. A pyramid. Purple trees adorned it; the tip of the pyramid shone with a blinding light. The most beautiful sky she had ever seen.

That was it. It was the duat.

Drolta got even more passionate in her speech; her throat ached from screaming.

“Hear mine voice, Lady Sekhmet! Hear mine voice! Come to me!” She begged. Finally, finally, finally, her goddess was right there; after years and years of searching and fighting for her and protecting her legacy and trying to find ways to revive her, after so many frustrated attempts of retrieving her mummy... Finally, Sekhmet’s Akh was right there in front of her eyes.

Finally, Drolta had succeeded.

All she needed to do was cross the door. Drolta couldn’t enter the duat, but Sekhmet could cross it towards the land of the living. Drolta held a small shabti made of pure gold in her hand, the holy object in which she could safely store the third part of Sekhmet’s soul. From there, Erzsebet would only need to incorporate it.

Come to me, Sekhmet; come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me–

Something happened.

The image twisted.

“What?” Drolta gasped.

The sight of the duat blurred.

Suddenly, the winds that whipped the house got stronger, more violent. The soul twister got more chaotic. Now, everything that could be seen within the door was the kaleidoscope of colors again, passing rapidly.

It… started to get black.

“No! No! What are you doing?!” Drolta turned to Khalil, her wrath so big that made him tremble. But the man was frozen in place, tears falling down his cheeks mixed with the rain.

“I-I-I’m not doing anything!” He stuttered. “It wasn’t me!”

Drolta turned to the door again.

The air was getting even colder. Colder, colder, colder… freezing. The Osiris symbol suddenly started to burn in black – and then everything else was black. The souls, the flames of the candles, the energy rays that poured from the door.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

“No! Stop! Stop!” Drolta yelled at whatever was interfering with the ritual. “I don’t want you here. I didn’t call you!”

But it was too late.

A second before the explosion, Drolta saw a dark figure walk out of the door.

She had time to protect her face with her arms. She did not care about Khalil.

Boom.

The shockwave destroyed what remained of Khalil’s house; he was sent back flying meters away. The reaped souls let their final, painful yell before dissipating in the air. The candles were extinguished in a gush of wind.

Drolta was the only thing to remain standing in place.

She lowered her arms slowly. It seemed that even the heavy storm got timid after such an unnatural occurrence. The neighbor houses still burned; the fires spread down the hill. As it wasn’t magical fire anymore, the rain started to quiet them down. No voices were heard. No more screams. No live witnesses anymore. The village of Jerash became nothing but a burning cemetery.

Drolta fell to her knees.

A shrilling scream of pure anger crossed the air.

She had failed. She got so fucking close and failed yet again. The duat was right there in front of her and she failed.

She turned around to see Khalil’s body on the floor.

Drolta got up, red anger clouding her gaze. He was still alive – hurt, bleeding and crying, but still alive.

“You stupid piece of shit!” She kicked his stomach so hard that the men rolled a few more meters away. “Useless little man. I submitted myself to your disgusting presence for days and you still didn’t serve me anything!”

Khalil coughed blood. He refused to look at her, shrinking into his own body, crying like a child.

She should skin him alive. This, at least, would serve as a way to calm down.

And yet – she stopped in her tracks.

Rain still fell over her head. She was entirely drenched. Drolta stopped and inhaled, letting her anger quiet down.

There was someone talking to her.

Something.

The air still smelled of coal and sulfur. It had nothing to do with the burning houses.

Slowly, she turned back to the circle of candles.

Her eyes widened.

There was someone laying on the floor inside the circle. She rushed towards it.

It was… it was a woman.

For a moment, overwhelming joy and excitement rushed through her veins. Could it be who she thought it was? What if she had actually succeeded, but in a different way than she first expected?

What if that was Sekhmet incarnate?!

Drolta knelt down beside the woman. She was unconscious, laid on her side, completely naked. With care – even hesitancy – Drolta turned her body around, making the woman lay on her back. She took some strands of drenched hair away from her face.

It was a young woman. Her chest moved slowly, as if she was simply asleep.

Drolta frowned.

She pressed two fingers over her neck. A regular pulse. The scent of… regular mortal blood.

Her frown deepened.

“This is no Sekhmet,” Drolta said through gritted teeth. “This is just human woman.”

Then, she lifted her gaze – and finally noticed what was talking to her.

It was nothing but a strange, tall shadow; Drolta could barely make sense of what she was looking at. But yet, that grin was very much recognizable. The entity seemed weak, vibrating in a low frequency, making the entire area around it even colder.

“Did you bring her with you?” She asked. The entity answered. It didn’t use… words. It spoke into her mind with intentions instead. Perhaps, it was way too weak to vocalize.

Drolta huffed with disdain. “And what use would this mortal have?”

The entity moved slowly, circling around them.

Drolta froze in place.

“How do you know this?” She asked in a cautious hiss.

The entity’s grin seemed to get even wider, now knowing that it had Drolta’s full attention.

It continued sliding around Drolta. The vampire lowered her head, looking at the human woman once again.

She looked and looked and looked and looked and…

She remembered.

Slowly, Drolta’s eyes widened as realization hit her.

This… wouldn’t solve all of her problems. She still needed to find the other half of Sekhmet’s soul. And yet… it could also serve her plans, in a way.

Drolta once again lifted her gaze towards the grinning shadow.

“I know you wouldn’t be offering me this out of the goodness of your heart,” she started with suspicion. “What do you want of me in return?”

The entity trembled. Drolta leaned her head slightly.

“An easy task. And if I fail?”

The entity grinned at her quietly. Drolta chuckled.

“You won’t have it, for I won’t fail.” She got up to her feet again. “But this sounds like a fair deal.”

A fair pact, in fact.

Drolta extended her arm towards the entity. It approached her; the shadow extended too in what resembled an arm. It revolved around her hand with a chilling touch.

When the shadow retreated, there was an icy object over Drolta’s palm.

A ruby necklace.

Drolta nodded at the entity; it sent her a last eerie grin before disappearing into the shadows of the night.

It was done.

Drolta looked down.

She took the cloak off her shoulders and covered the woman’s naked body with it. She leaned down, taking her into her arms, before straightening her posture again.

It… wasn’t a complete failure, after all.

Her Goddess never left her without a way out. She was always kind to send Drolta another option, another strategy, and that’s why Drolta managed to survive and move on after every problem.

“For every suffering, a wisdom is gained,” she said quietly. The mantra that had been keeping her sane for centuries.

Khalil was still weeping some meters away from her. Drolta paid him no mind. He wasn’t totally useless in the end, which meant he gained the right to keep living.

Drolta walked away from the burning cemetery of Jerash with the unconscious woman in her arms, the ruby necklace safely tangled around her palm.

The heavy storm clouds opened a small breach for the first time; the moon peeked through, being the only witness of the horrors that had unveiled that night.

Present time

Paris, France

The sun had hidden behind the horizon at least three hours ago.

You looked out the window at the full moon reigning sovereign in the sky from the tiny inn bedroom. There were barely any clouds to hinder its view. Stars adorned the space around her, creating a breathtaking view.

And yet, the air was… eerie.

Maybe because you knew what was about to come, and the fact that the rest of the city didn’t know yet made the situation horrifying. So many people were probably having dinner with their families, resting their heads over their pillows, having no idea of the hell that was about to burst upon them.

What made the situation even more difficult was that you were, well, useless in the middle of it all.

Richter and Annette were hunting nests of vampires. Alucard was about to leave to talk to the leaderships of Paris in order to organize the defensive lines. The three of them, much obviously, were ready to fight.

And you? All you had was a useless golden scepter.

Maybe you had your hopes way too high after what happened at the Louvre. You remembered what Annette told you when you first met – you might be a witch, Ruby; you just don’t remember it. You thought that, the moment you put your hands over the artifact again, you’d have some sort of epiphany. Your past would unveil itself in your head, you’d finally understand Erzsebet and Drolta’s interest in you, you’d know why you were needed to summon eclipses…

But nothing happened.

The scepter was just heavy and very impractical to carry around.

Alucard had no idea what language the inscriptions were. He advised you to not read them out loud, as it wasn’t clear the effect it could cause. You also didn’t magically understand what these words meant. So… just another frustration to add onto the pile.

“Ruby, I’m talking to you.”

You jumped and turned your head around. Alucard was standing in front of the door, searching for something in the inside pocket of his coat and eyeing you with curiosity. You adjusted your posture where you were sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I… wasn’t paying attention.” You said sheepishly.

The white-haired vampire paused for a moment.

“Are you scared of being on your own?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No! Not at all. I’ll be fine.” You reassured.

To be honest, being alone wasn’t exactly an idea you liked. The last three days were the safest you’d ever felt in your life, and that was because you were around them. You tried to avoid picturing the horrifying image of Drolta in her new night creature form breaking through that window and dragging you back to the chateau. There’s no way this is going to happen, not now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… I’m not needed anymore.

But the idea you liked even less was of being a burden, and you knew you’d be a burden if you kept hanging around uselessly while they fought. Annette almost died due to your mere presence. You were sure everyone would’ve handled the fight much better if you simply weren’t there. So… it’d be better if you just stayed hidden at the inn for the time being.

Alucard shrugged slightly and approached, finally revealing what he was searching for in his coat: a… red string?

He sat by your side on the bed, eyes glued on it. The only source of light came from the moon outside and a single candle holder over the desk. The light of the timid flame created a golden silhouette on his delicate features.

“The Revolutionary Commune is reunited some blocks away from here at this moment,” Alucard explained while his fingers worked on measuring the string. You watched him in silent confusion. His voice always dropped even quieter when he was close to you like that. It was… comforting. He was so close that his arm brushed on yours. “I must go warn them about the incoming fight. There will most definitely be vampires roaming the streets right now, hence why you must stay hidden for the time being.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

You watched as Alucard tied the red string around his own left wrist skillfully. How did he even manage to tie something with a single hand? That was quite impressive. “I won’t take more than two hours, however. After I assure your safety within the Revolutionary Commune, I will come to pick you up.”

Then, he brought his wrist close to his mouth; he put the remaining length of the string between his teeth and cut it using his sharp fangs.

Oh.

You couldn’t help but feel shivers run your spine whenever you remembered that Alucard had vampire fangs. He was half vampire, in fact. It was a bit strange how, as you grew comfortable around him, this “detail” became less and less relevant; you always associated vampires with the worst things possible, while Alucard was much the opposite. Perhaps that’s why it was a bit surprising to remember part of him was one.

You also had noticed that Alucard didn’t open much of his mouth when he talked… and it seemed to be a very conscious act when he was in public. You payed attention to how he talked to those boys earlier. Was it an attempt to make his fangs less obvious?

“Give me your left wrist.” He asked. You promptly obeyed. Alucard tied the remaining string around yours this time. “If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.”

You nodded, a bit surprised. “This is impressive.”

Alucard chuckled and tilted his head slightly. “You were effortlessly summoning eclipses and this is what surprises you about magic?”

The words got caught in your throat.

“Well– it is impressive.” He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, which did not help you organize your thoughts better. “A-And I wasn’t summoning them, not exactly.”

“You’re not sure about that, are you?”

No, you weren’t.

Your shoulders dropped. Alucard chuckled again.

He finally let go of your wrist and a tiny part of you immediately missed his touch.

“Remember. Two hours. No more, no less.” He got up from the bed again and walked towards the door. “I might be asking too much from you, but I’d advise you against sleeping, too.”

“As if I’d be able to close my eyes at all,” you whined quietly to yourself.

Alucard opened the door and looked at you.

Once again, it seemed that he was about to say something. He looked… hesitant. His expression wasn’t as nonchalant as usual, but you couldn’t tell exactly why. You looked at him expectantly.

Then – this small glimpse dissolved in seconds.

“Lock the door,” he said, pointing at it with his head.

Oh.

You got up in a jump. At last, he left. You safely locked it and kept the key in the pocket of your vest.

Then, you were alone.

For the first time in your life, being alone didn’t bring you relief. You’d usually look forward to the moments you’d be locked inside your quarters again, recovering from your wounds; despite the pain, it were the only times when you had some peace. Now, however, you’d wish someone was here. You hoped Annette and Richter were safe, wherever they were…

You laid on the bed and faced the ceiling. The scepter was also over the bed, right beside you.

And you just… stayed there.

Your fingers fiddled with the red string on your left wrist mindlessly. Alucard didn’t make a complicated tie as to keep it easy to undo, so you took care to not untie it by accident. This little piece of braided wool had magic in it… but you didn’t feel anything strange while touching it.

You remembered how Alucard felt that the scepter was magic just by touching it, while for you it was just a normal object. You remembered how Richter could summon elements with his bare hands and Annette could see spirits as easily as people…. Perhaps you had no aptitude for magic at all. Perhaps they made you read that book because they needed a human to complete the summoning of an eclipse, not because you had some sort of hidden power.

You touched the scepter again without bothering to look at it. Cold and lifeless as usual.

Maybe it had that reaction – shining, the rust disappearing – because it needed someone to… awaken it. Anyone. Not you specifically.

But it must had been touched by someone before, isn’t it? Of course it was. It didn’t walk into that crate. Someone put it there.

You groaned and turned to your right side.

Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. You were on high alert, so your eyelids didn’t feel heavy with sleep.

You laid on your stomach and brought the scepter close to your face.

These characters… you recognized them.

Alucard told you to not read them out loud, but he didn’t say anything about writing them.

You got up and rushed to the desk. There was a small drawer there with a piece of paper and some charcoal. You laid on your stomach again and started to translate the characters into the common Latin alphabet. Alucard might not recognize the characters, but what if he saw the syllables in a language he could read and the words made sense to him?

As the scepter had a lot of text and you didn’t have much paper, you tried to keep the letters as tiny as possible. You broke the charcoal a bit to make a sharper point. Your hands and the sheets got dirty with the black of the charcoal, but you couldn’t care less.

You didn’t pay attention to the time now that you had something to busy yourself with. Minutes went by. Minutes, minutes, minutes. An hour. Half an hour.

You had little free paper left and a lot to translate still when a sound out there immediately brought you back to your senses.

You froze and looked towards the window.

The street was very quiet up until that point – you even wondered if nights in Paris were always so peaceful. That sound, however, was impossible to ignore; was impossible to not make your heart immediately race.

A scream.

You got up in a jump and approached the window slowly, peeking at it with caution.

The scream came from a nearby street, followed by fast steps. Another scream. It sounded female.

No… it sounded childish.

Maybe it’s nothing. Just a kid spooked by a dog or a rat. Nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t get on your nerves every time you hear a scream.

You stood by the window for some more minutes, your heart thundering nonstop… and nothing appeared. You sighed, tried to calm your already irregular breathing. Focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to muffle everything else–

Someone running down there on the street.

You eyes widened. Your breath got completely caught in your throat.

It was a kid. A small kid, desperately running away from something. A boy. You recognized the worn out clothes and the curly black hair.

The lily in the pocket of your vest seemed to get hot.

It was Oliver.

When he disappeared from your sight, you saw what he was running from: three men. They laughed as they pursued him.

Three vampires.

You grabbed the scepter, the piece of paper and without taking a single second to think, you were already running out of the room.

The only things you could hear were your deep breathing, your thundering heartbeat and your boots rushing on the wooden pavement, then on the stone street as you rushed out of the inn. You almost fell when taking a sudden turn in the direction you saw Oliver running to. The street was completely empty and cold, but your body already felt hot from adrenaline.

You ran as fast as your legs could take. Please let me not be too late please please please please please please please please please–

Another strangled scream followed by more voices coming from an alley nearby.

You didn’t take a second to consider what you were going to do, how you were going to save him from this situation.

You just rushed into it.

“Oliver!” You screamed, stopping on your tracks.

The scene unfolding in front of you made your blood boil in a mix of anger and fright.

Oliver, the little boy, had fallen; his back was pressed against the wall. It was a dead end. His knee bled – he had probably fallen –, tears streamed down his cheeks, his pants were wet. He was shaking; his eyes, the most widened you’d ever seen.

The three vampires cornered him. They wore simple clothes, but all of them shared a similar trait: the symbol of an eclipse burned into the skin of their foreheads.

They immediately turned around at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, everyone was shocked – you, Oliver, the vampires. They were the first ones to recover.

“M-Madame!” Oliver stuttered in a strangled, horrified voice.

The vampire in the middle smirked.

“What do we have here?”

“This is even better than that bastard,” the one on the right laughed. “No one told you to not walk around at night by yourself, sweetie?”

“Leave him alone,” you blurted out. You didn’t sound that frightened, at least, because your body hadn’t properly processed what the hell you had gotten yourself into yet.

“Oh, we might now that you’re here.” One of them said with a disgusting smirk. “And what is it that you’re carrying with you? Looks interesting.”

They started to approach at slow steps.

You knew how vampires acted. They didn’t see you as a threat, so they would not use their inhuman speed. No; they wanted to savor your panic, to make you think you’d have a way out the way they did with Oliver. Vampires acted as cruel hunters, not as animal predators that acted purely on instinct and hunger.

That’s why they didn’t notice when you put your left wrist behind your back and swiftly untied the string.

I’m sorry, Alucard, you thought as the reality of that moment finally hit you. You… you did it again. You put yourself in danger again, exactly the opposite of what Alucard told you to do. But if you had waited for him, if you had untied the string at the inn and then explained what happened and then hoped that Alucard caught the vampires in time, would Oliver still be alive? Would he have an extra minute of luck?

Whatever these vampires were about to do with you – it didn’t matter. You could take it. Oliver couldn’t. The same way Annette wouldn’t have taken the night creature’s bite.

“M-Madame, run!”

His voice caught your attention again.

That little boy had wet himself in fear. He could barely stand. And yet, he was telling you to run. He was worried about your safety.

That little boy.

So small and so fragile and wearing those worn out clothes and shaking and hurt.

It brought forward an instinct within you. Perhaps that same instinct you felt when you looked at Richter’s sad expression. A will to take care. To protect. Something that run deep into your soul, something very familiar in ways you couldn’t explain, as if you had been in a similar situation in the past, as if you had felt this desperate need to protect someone small and fragile and dear to you.

These men were going to kill that little boy and he wouldn’t even be able to fight back.

This strange instinct to protect and the anger towards these men and the revolt because you had been in similar situations too, countless times, and you couldn’t do anything to fight back against a force tenfold stronger than you made your mind go blank.

Blank, blank, blank, devoid of any thought. Any fear. Any hesitance. At that moment, there wasn’t anxiety anymore. Your fingers didn’t shake. You didn’t think of any consequence.

All that existed was the need to protect that little boy.

One of the vampires approached and grabbed the scepter roughly. Instinctively, you held it with both hands, trying to pull it back.

And then – the vampire screamed.

A sizzling noise filled the alley.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He screamed.

The scepter was burning his hands. He couldn’t take them off.

Your mind didn’t register well everything that happened in the following seconds.

The moment you held it with both hands, it started to glow again – but in a different way than before.

The inscriptions started to glow. That same glow traveled from one end to the other – to the tip of the scepter; the image of the sun.

It started to shine.

The light was blinding. You had to tighten your eyes. It was hot hot hot hot, you almost dropped it on the floor, but something told you to keep holding it. So you held it with all your might. You felt a strange wave of energy flow from your body towards the scepter.

The little sun of the scepter shone, brightening the entire alley as if day turned to night–

And the three vampires yelled in agony.

They tried to cover their faces, tried to run away – but it was already too late. Their skin began to burn as if they were set on fire. Their muscle, their clothes, their scalp, their bones, everything was burning. The vampire that tried to grab it was the first to fall on the floor, agonizing, until he finally stopped moving. The other two screamed, yelled with nowhere to run. Their limbs were way too damaged to move.

You felt that your heart was burning, too.

Finally, the burning was too much for you to take. With a scream of effort, you dropped the scepter with a loud metallic noise and fell back on the floor.

The light extinguished.

You panted. You supported your body on your arms. Finally, the screaming stopped.

There were three dead vampires on your feet.

Their carcasses completely burned, unrecognizable. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Smoke clouded the alley.

You started shaking again.

What– What just happened?!

But then, you heard another tiny voice besides yours and you remembered that there was someone you still needed to take care of. You got up from the floor, not daring to touch the scepter again, tip toeing to avoid stepping over the bodies.

You knelt in front of Oliver and held him by both arms.

“What are you doing here at this hour?!” You lashed out. “Alucard told you to not get out at night!”

The boy sobbed.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, m-madame,” he stuttered between his cries. “I-I-I was t-trying to help. I-I was t-telling people to g-get into their houses. I was already g-going back home…”

You wiped his tears with the sleeve of your blouse before hugging him. Tight. Oliver cried on your shoulder, his little body shaking against yours.

A hand touched your shoulder from behind – which caused you to gasp loudly.

Alucard had the most shocked, confused expression you’d ever seen. It was one of the rare moments when he wasn’t being subtle.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, but it sounded like a demand.

No no no that’s not what you should ask right now. Oliver is the priority.

The boy leaned away from you and you held his shoulders again. “Where do you live?”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. His little face was all puffy and wet. “T-Two streets away from here.”

You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Ruby–“

“Let’s go,” you interrupted Alucard. “I need to take him home.”

Take him home take him home take him home. Yes, this is what I need to do. This is all that matters.

You walked on a beeline with a rushed pace towards the exit of the alley – both the scepter and the piece of paper with your translations completely forgotten on the floor. Alucard followed you closely, but in silence. Oliver’s little hand was still shaking. You held it tightly.

After no more than five minutes of walking, he pointed towards his house. You leaned down and hugged him again.

“Don’t leave your house. Did you understand? Do not walk out under any circumstance. Tell your parents about it.” You repeated in a serious authoritarian tone you didn’t recognize yourself. Have you ever spoken that way before?

Oliver nodded and apologized again. Finally, he waved a last goodbye and entered the house.

It seems that you just started to breathe again when you heard the sound of the door locking.

A few seconds of silence went by.

“Ruby.”

You shivered and turned around.

Alucard looked down at you with frowned eyebrows. Was he angry? Oh fuck, of course he was angry. You put yourself in danger again. You did what you shouldn’t. You got out of the inn without his permission.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your mission. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you started while avoiding his gaze vehemently. Your fingers were trembling again; you hid them behind your back.

“Can you tell me what–“

“Oliver was being chased by vampires. I saw them running through the window and I couldn’t hold myself back. I’m sorry, I know you told me to not put myself in danger. B-But I couldn’t just stay still, you see?” You couldn’t shut up. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why was your voice shaking? “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“And then– the scepter– it did that thing again. I don’t know how that happened. It– it got so hot out of sudden, and then the vampires were burning too. I d-don’t know if I was the one to do it. I just didn’t want Oliver to die. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”

“You didn’t, Ruby.”

“Oh– I left if on the floor, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I put you through all the trouble of going back to the Louvre only to drop it at the alley. I s-should take it back. Oh! And I was translating the writings too. I think I dropped the paper… well, I wasn’t translating anything, I was just writing the words in our alphabet, and I don’t know it’ll be useful at all but I wanted to help somehow–“

“Ruby.”

The words got stuck in your throat.

Alucard cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him and nothing else.

He frowned. “You’re burning.”

You blinked rapidly. “What? N-No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it through the gloves.” Alucard used his teeth to take the glove off his right hand; he pressed it over your forehead. He was probably trying to help, but that action made you feel even hotter on the inside. “We need to do something about it.”

“No!” You blurted out. “No, there’s no need. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll heal. I always do.”

“Ruby.” He called again.

Alucard shoved the glove inside his coat and held your face with both hands again; he lowered himself slightly to get closer to your eye level.

“I am not angry at you.” He started in a slow and quiet voice. “You didn’t interrupt me. You did nothing wrong. But I need you to understand that you are spiraling, and I need you to calm down first.”

S… Spiraling? You were spiraling?

You gulped and nodded.

“Breathe with me.” He instructed patiently.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. You followed his slow pace.

Adrenaline dissipated in your bloodstream; your head got quieter again. Your heart stopped running and went back to walking. Your hands, however, were still shaking.

You lowered your head, desperately trying to avoid his gaze, when you felt tears well up your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a weak tone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Alucard’s voice was even quieter than usual… even gentler. He didn’t step away. His thumb caressed your cheek with care.

“I got so scared. I thought Oliver was going to die.”

Why did you even confess that? You weren’t sure; your brain wasn’t working properly anymore. But yes, that was true. You were scared of getting hurt – you were just used to pain, you didn’t like it – but you were even more scared of seeing that boy die in front of you. So small and so innocent and so familiar for some reason.

Why was that familiar? Why were you so confused? What the hell just happened?

You had no answer to any of these questions. All you wanted to do was cry at that moment – but not in front of him. Never in front of him; it’d be too humiliating. You wanted to step away, to have some space to recover. You wanted to hide from him.

Alucard had other plans.

When the first stubborn tear streamed down your cheek, Alucard pulled you closer to his body. His hands let go of your face; instead, he wrapped his arms around you. He was delicate. Hesitant, even.

Your face was then hidden in his chest.

Alucard didn’t say anything. Perhaps there was nothing he could’ve said at that moment, so he decided to act.

You froze at first. This… this was the closest you’ve ever been to him – at least while fully conscious, a proximity Alucard established willingly. You didn’t even know you had the right to stand that close to him.

When was the last time someone offered you comfort like that?

If it had happened before, you didn’t remember.

Slowly, your body melted under his. Your tense members softened. His sweet scent enveloped you. With much hesitance, you wrapped your arms around his body too, under his cape – and in the moment Alucard realized you accepted his embrace, he held you just a little tighter, a little more comfortable. One of his hands caressed your hair, while the other wrapped around your back.

You did your best to swallow any incoming sobs, forcing yourself to cry in silence. If Alucard even noticed you were crying, he didn’t show it. He just kept his arms around you protectively… affectionately. It made your insides feel warm in a way not even that strange scepter could.

None of you said a word, though there was much to be said. Both of you understood the gravity of what just happened. The three burnt carcasses were there at the alley, waiting to be inspected.

But that could wait for now. Nothing had the right to pierce through the small bubble of peace you shared.

You just stayed there in each other’s embrace for longer than your confused brain could register.

The bright full moon, reining sovereign in the sky, was your only witness.

[cantimtoogay]

Ever think about how pro-women the apothecary dairies are? I do, and now I'm writing an entire thing about it because hyperfixation go brrrrrrr. 

WARNING!! HERE BE SPOILERS FOR LIKE… EVERYTHING UP TO LN 8!! 

If you don’t know, The Apothecary Diaries are a series of japanese light novels that were adapted into a manga, which were then adapted into an anime. The mc of the series is a girl named Maomao, who is an incredibly intelligent apothecary with a wide knowledge of poisons and medicine. Through various series of shenanigans, she goes from being a regular servant in the Rear Palace, where the Emperor’s consorts live, to being the food taster for one of the major consorts, then briefly working in the pleasure district (basically a red light district) where she grew up, then begins working for the manager of the rear palace, who is also Maomao’s love interest. Along the way, she stumbles onto and solves various mysteries, which is the bigger gimmick of the series. Now, if you were to watch the anime, read the manga, or read the light novels, something you’ll notice if you pay attention is how much power women hold. It isn’t an open, loud and proud thing, it’s set in imperial china in the 17th century at the earliest, but if you look for it even a little, you will find it very easily. I want to talk about a few things, but the one’s I’ll highlight right now are Maomao, naturally, the Empresses Dowager and Regent, and various other women from the manga and light novels that’ll probably spiral into tangents. 

So. Maomao. If she suddenly decided to really wield the power that she has access to, she could easily be one of the top 5 most powerful women in Li, probably top 3. Here are some of the ways she has insane access to political power: 

She is Lakan’s absolute darling daughter, no matter how much she does not want anything to do with him. In his eyes, she can do NO wrong. Lakan is such a powerful man that even the Emperor is hesitant to do anything that would upset him

Related to previous, she is Lahan’s younger sister, again against her wishes, and he holds an affection towards her that mirrors their father’s. Lahan isn’t as important as Lakan, but he’s important enough to go on big diplomatic missions with the Emperor’s younger brother

She has the favor of all 4 of the recent High Consorts of the Emperor: Gyokyou, who I’ll get back to, Lihua, Lishu, and Ah Duo. I’m not counting Lou Lan/Shisui since she isn’t a consort for very long and is disgraced/will be disgraced. 

Gyokyou?? Hello?? Maomao saved both her life and the life of her infant daughter, tasted her food, and tended to her when she was pregnant with her son, and even taught her ways to help pleasure the Emperor better

Saved Lihua’s life twice over; once by removing the toxic white powder and nursing her back to health, and the other by foiling a plot by her sister/chief lady-in-waiting

Personally requested by both the Emperor and the Empress Dowager to do tasks for them

Best for last: Jinshi. He is so down bad for her it’s hilarious and kinda pathetic. Poor guy. Anyways, HE’S THE IMPERIAL YOUNGER BROTHER. His claim to the throne is still up for debate at the point where I’ve gotten to, so there’s still a chance he could be the literal Emperor. AND HE WANTS MAOMAO AS HIS WIFE!!! He wants to marry Maomao! And he’s told her this! There’s a chance that Maomao could be Empress! Even if he doesn’t become Emperor and he marries her, that would still put her around the same power level as Gyokyou, who is the current Empress, and Anshi, the Empress Dowager (aka the Emperor and Jinshi’s mother)

If Maomao really wanted to grab her life by the reins and fuck shit up, she could embrace the La name, marry Jinshi, almost certainly have the backing of Gyokyou and therefore the Emperor, and probably also Lihua and Ah Duo. I can’t see her actually doing it, but it’d be fun to imagine…

Next, the Empresses Dowager and Regent. We’ll start with the Empress Dowager, the Emperor and Jinshi’s mother, who we’ll just refer to as Anshi for simplicity. It’s mentioned multiple times just how much influence she has. She was almost single handedly responsible for ending the making of eunuchs and taking of slaves, and she did that while dealing with the late Emperor. It’s said that the Grand Marshall was put in place by her, and he remains exceptionally loyal to her. She dealt with the late Emperor, placing such a fear of women into him that he stopped going after young girls (Yeah, the late Emperor was a pedo, if you weren’t aware). And now, Anshi is an extremely respected figure with power over the major players of Li. 

The Empress Regent… If I were to talk about everything she did, we’d be here for hours. But she essentially took control of Li during the reign of the late Emperor, who was a fool unfit to rule. You cannot understate the impact she had, and her legacy haunts the narrative. She is one of the easiest characters to point to as an example when you talk about women’s power in TAD.

Miscellaneous characters lightning round! GO!

Shisui’s Mother; leader of the Shi clan, the one orchestrating the entire coup against the Emperor

Shisui; was a consort, but was a very smart spy who would find out information from other consorts, and eventually sacrificed herself to pull all the blame onto her and the Shi clan and make them the villains, before faking her death and escaping to live her life in another country

Ayla; one of the foreign emissaries, seems to hold a lot of power in Shaoh currently and was providing weapons for the Shi coup

Suirei; basically Ah Duo’s closest advisor currently, and extremely medically minded like Maomao, so they get along very easily

The High Consorts; the women closest to the Emperor, pissing them off is a bad idea because they can and will ruin you (Except for Lishu, but she’s so extremely unlucky that everything does its thing for her)

The Shrine Maiden; the most powerful woman in Shaoh for basically her entire life, unseated the former Emperor as a baby (if you say that she’s not a woman because she was born with a penis you will be blocked, no if’s, and’s, or but’s)

The White Lady; so, so many crimes. Had an entire network of stuff going on in which she used her albinism to appear as an immortal to commit her many crimes

In TAD, 9 times out of 10, you pick a powerful character, it’s gonna be a woman. This series adores women and celebrates them whenever possible, whether it’s something small like an emissary from 50 years ago finding Grams so otherworldly beautiful he described her as a moon nymph, to something as major as basically Anshi’s entire character and her backstory and relationship with the late Emperor. And when something tears women down, like marriage standards or the binding of feet, the series denounces it through Maomao. When Maomao isn’t taken seriously by other characters, it’s treated as an obstacle and that character is seen as an antagonist or villain. The male characters we like, Jinshi, Gaoshun, the Emperor, Basen, Lihaku, Sazen, Kokuyou, they all hold Maomao in high regards and respect her opinion, listening when she proposes theories. It’s the women that push things forward, that introduce the conflicts and try to seize power and foil plots and solve mysteries. 

The men with power don’t really do anything with it, but the women do everything.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Sleepless in NYC

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x f!reader

Summary: Having insomnia can be isolating, but lucky for you there's someone else at Avenger's Tower who can keep you company. Reader is a superhero named "Mystic". This is the first fic in my "Something to Lose" series!

Word Count: 8.5K

Tropes: Grumpy (reader) vs. Sunshine (Bob) (a little bit?), Black Cat (reader) and Golden Retriever (Bob) (a little bit?), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining.

Warnings: Cursing, Torture mentioned (briefly), Death/Murder mentioned, Blood mentioned? Hints at reader having a dark past, Reader has somewhat created backstory that is talked about, Self-deprecating thought (reader), Mentions of mental health, Mentions of therapy, Mentions of depression, Elder Abuse (aka reader makes fun of Bucky for being old), Mentions of medication, Mentions of violence, Walker is a bit (alot) of a jerk, Protective! Reader. Bob might be a little OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Bob, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: Okay, again... the hyperfixation has begun and all I can do is ask y'all to strap in for the ride. 😅

Masterlist for Series

In hindsight, eating that cinnamon bun before training this morning was a bad idea.

You think to yourself as your back hits the ground with a heavy thud, the impact knocking the wind out of you as you get more acquainted with the black thick plastic mat on the floor of the gym and try not to let the cinnamon bun in question make an encore appearance.

Bucky stands over you, arms crossed over his chest, mouth tilted down in a frown. His formidable figure outlined by the large fluorescent lights that lined the roof of the gym at Avengers Tower.  "You're still leaving your left flank unprotected. Come on we've been through this before-"

"Maybe I was just taking it easy on you, old man." You cough out a laugh while you try to catch your breath.

Honestly, you were off your game and you knew it.

It was hard to focus when the only thing your body was craving at the moment was sleep. Last night was the fourth night in a row that you couldn't quite drift off and you didn't have high hopes for tonight. You also couldn't decide if no sleep was better than the nightmares that flocked like a murder of crows in your head, the sharp talons pulling at your hair, while the wings beat hard and heavy in your ears whenever you did finally find yourself lucky enough to rest.

Because on the list of things that were unfair in your life, the fact that other people finally found peace in the sweet abyss of sleep while you found only death and destruction was at the tip top.

The sun has to break sometime… right? My luck isn't that bad, is it?

It was. On a scale from one to a million, you were sitting pretty at a negative 7.

You look up at Bucky.

His metal arm glints in the light, muscles tensing slightly under the black tank top, his stance wide and open as he stares down at you. There wasn’t anything in his posture to suggest that the two of you were sparing as you always did each morning, he looks far too relaxed for that. Which meant that this wasn't challenging him at all.

And it was getting embarrassing, especially given the fact that you were created by Hydra for the sole purpose of killing the man standing over you if he ever went rogue.

Pieced together from his genetic material, an enhanced clone of the Winter Solider, the thirteenth in a long line of experiments that went wrong. An unlucky number by all standards, but the only survivor of the trials that all the other clones failed, the same trials that left your hands streaked with their blood while their bodies fell one by one.

Lethal. Deadly. Unstoppable. Created to be better than him in every way.

Just not right now.

When Bucky and Sam had found you in the Hydra bunker hidden at the bottom of the Atlantic and brought you back up to the light over a year ago there had been a long period of adjustment. Mostly because Sam wasn't convinced that you wouldn't kill them in their sleep.

He hadn't been too far off, you had thought about it, thumbed the well worn handle of your favorite knife and thought about how easy it would be, but you hadn't and that was the main thing.

It's the little victories really.

But despite the new life that Bucky had introduced to you, there was little you could do to drive away the nightmares.  The ones filled with memories you so desperately wanted to forget. The same memories that used to fill you with pride and now only made you feel shame. The shadowy tendrils of the past seeping into the present to ensnare your mind and pull you back into the darkness.

Everyone on the New Avengers had a dark past.

Each person had something that they'd like to forget, but yours haunted you. And despite the conversations that Bucky had with you about trying to accept the past and move forward- and the discussions with the therapist he recommended, you still felt… alone.

You feared that there was still a part of you that longed for that- a unquenchable thirst for blood that screamed out in the darkness of the night when all was quiet.

It made it harder to believe Bucky when he told you that you deserved better and that you weren't your past.

Truth was, you knew why you didn't believe him, because the Winter Soldier did things while under hypnosis and you did them of your own free will. Did them because you were bred for it, created in a test tube, and trained to kill. It was the only life you knew, the only world that you thought existed. The constant struggle for survival while you clung on with bloody fingernails and teeth fighting to stay alive.

No friends, no family, just targets.

You didn't know that there was anything else out there until Bucky took you in, didn’t know what a life could really look like.

It had taken you a while to realize exactly why Bucky did it, why he didn't just put you out of your misery the moment he broke into the base and realized what Hydra had done, who or rather what they had created from his DNA.

Honestly, after everything it was nice to have someone around who understood how you felt, nice to actually have a friend.

That was about a year before you'd joined the Thunderbolts, which in all honesty was a complete fluke. A happy (chaotic and bullet holed) accident. Bucky had been so stressed about Valentina's trial and all you'd wanted to do was help him out, try to give him some peace, so you'd done some digging to see if you could uncover something to use against her.

Which may or may not have included you breaking into a government facility and maybe calling up one of your old contacts to help you find the hidden vault in the desert. One of the same contacts that Bucky would probably kill you if he found out you were talking to again.

Getting into the vault had been easy, but you hadn't meant to stumble into the Thunderdome situation that was happening between Yelena, Walker, Ava, and Taskmaster. If anything you'd thought that the vault would be filled with dusty old files, not four paid assassins who were each trying to off each other.

And because you'd promised Bucky that you'd be better, stop killing people, and turn over a new leaf, you hadn't killed them. You hated breaking promises to Bucky. He was the closest thing you had to family.

I wonder if he feels that way about me or if he thinks I’m an annoyance?

Bucky rolls his eyes at your taunt, but you see a flicker of something in his gaze that might be humor. “Sure.”

I'll take that as a yes.

You roll back upwards to a standing position, shaking out the exhaustion from your body, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet.

I got this. I’m awake. I'm awake. I'm- in desperate need of coffee.

But other than the cloying exhaustion, it was a normal Tuesday morning at the tower.

There was the subtle clink of weights from where Walker was doing his morning reps in the corner, the smell of mac and cheese from the kitchen you were sure Yelena was making, and the sound of the TV five rooms away blasting yet another war documentary, which meant that Alexei was couch camping again and you would have to avoid the living room to escape the usual twenty minute long conversation in which he described the good old days and then asked you about your past missions. The air in the gym reeked of stale sweat and something that might have been Alexei's socks, which he kept saying "needed to airdry." Why he hung them in the gym to do so, you'd never know.

The gym itself was outfitted with everything the team would need to train: weights, treadmill, large plastic sparing mat, giant wall lined with deadly weapons to kill each other, punching bag-

Right now you felt like a punching bag, given how much time you were spending on the mat, and the bruise that was forming on your butt from hitting it so many times.

But you were thankful that today Bucky and you weren't practicing with weapons. As much as you hated to admit it, Bucky probably would have turned you into coleslaw by now if you had.

You narrowly dodge the arch of Bucky's metal fist and take a confident step back, hands raised in front of you protectively.

"You're distracted today." Bucky says, but he doesn't lower his guard. "What's wrong?"

Your eyes trace over the taunt form of his body, noting the subtle shift to the right, the thick plastic pad beneath him dipping with the movement of his right foot. The anticipation of the punch that was going to follow from that direction, buzzing through your body. Every subtle tick of his body sending off alarm bells in your head, warning you to prepare.

The punch comes just as you thought it would and you dodge again, twisting away before throw a kick into his unprotected side as Bucky fully extends his body with the momentum of the punch.

He stumbles back, off balance, but you don't move to finish, instead you wait for him to straighten up, rolling your own shoulders to stretch out and ignoring the twinge from the previous time you'd spent on the mat.

"I'm not distracted."

"You are. By now you've usually knocked me down at least once."

"Thought I'd give you a chance today. Can't always be beating up a senior citizen. Someone might call the AARP." You flash a smirk.

Bucky doesn't look convinced. He knows that you're trying to cover how you feel, he was used to your deflection techniques. "How'd you sleep last night?"

You hesitate to answer, because you couldn't lie to him. Bucky knew you and he'd seen the two dozen cinnamon buns you'd made last night on the kitchen counter this morning when he was rooting around for his usual morning banana, black coffee, and cereal.

And before you ask, yes it's bran cereal.

The baking had been an interesting development in the months following your freedom from Hydra. You blamed late night food network TV and also blamed Sam's subscription to Netflix (the one you were using without his knowledge) which exposed you to the Great British Bake-off. But you never thought that you'd actually be good at it.

Dismembering? Sure. Long-range sniping? You got it! Hot wiring a car? Sign you up! But baking? Really? In what universe?

But there was something about it that never failed to calm you down.

The methodical measuring, the sharp crack of the eggs, the high-pitched whirr of the mixer, the folding of the dough- it all helped. It helped drive the images of what you’d done from your mind and helped you focus on something else for a few moments, giving you the same reprieve you imagined a good nights sleep would.

Plus, after there was something good to eat.

Everyone in the tower was benefiting from your newfound hobby. Alexei most of all, who had taken to giving you requests of Russian treats you'd never heard of and were difficult to find in the city.

Unfortunately, he would ask for them at the most inopportune times.

Like a month ago when the two of you had been crouched behind a car taking fire from a group of men robbing a bank downtown and Alexei began to describe a sweet treat that his mother used to make him when he was a boy that he couldn't remember the name of instead of focusing on the ricochet of gunfire above your heads.

Or last week when you'd been locked in hand to hand combat with an enhanced agent and Alexei kept shouting out ingredients the two of you could pick up at the grocery store after the fight.

However, you still thought that it was comical. Hydra's best asset, the one that people all over the world were afraid to whisper the of name for fear of summoning you like a shadow from a bad dream, spent each night baking, icing, and kneading with the same hands that were once used to maim, gut, and kill so many others.

Still waiting to see the flying pigs.

"I slept fine." You answer begin to circle him, sweeping your eyes over his body to analyze his next move.

"You hesitated."

"I did n-"

Bucky lunges forward moving fast across the mat in a tackle, but you sidestep, dropping low to sweep his legs out from under him. He lands with a solid thud, the huff of his breath into the gym air filling you with a sense of triumph.

He rolls onto his back in a huff, dark hair falling forward into his face. "Yes you did. And you're pulling your punches!"

"Buck, you're on the ground right now. I don't think you get to say that I'm pulling my punches."

"I-"

The rest of his sentence is lost in a loud crash. Your body tenses with the clang of weights against the concrete floors, years of having to constantly stay alert taking control, the self-preservation instincts pulling your body taunt as you turn in the direction of the sound prepared for a surprise attack.

Bob is standing on the other side of the room clutching a small five pound dumbbell to his chest like a teddy bear, his blue eyes wide in shock and fear. The shelf that usually holds all the other dumbbells and weights is on the ground in front of him, scattered all over the concrete floor like oreos out of a plastic sleeve.

He must have knocked it over.

Your eyes trace over the way he's shrunken into his oversized blue sweatshirt, how he scrunches up his body beneath, his face downcast and flushed in embarrassment.

Seeing him look so small, stirred something in the pit of your stomach.

Bob was different than anyone you'd ever met before. Soft and vulnerable, the complete opposite of you. All the ways that you’d had to harden yourself to keep people out clashed with the soft smiles, stutters, and flushes that you’d seen and heard from Bob whenever he talked to you. Bob was the kind of person that someone like you swallowed whole.

And yet, there was something that drew you to him, something inside that felt different whenever he was around, and something that you still hadn't quite figured out.

When everything happened with Sentry and Void a few months ago, you’d thought that Bob pretended to be shy and awkward. That he used it as a manipulation tactic to try and get people to come to his aid. That was, until you'd seen him with Valentina.

You saw how she manipulated him, turned him into something he wasn’t, twisted his mind into something else. And in the moments that the others fought Sentry all you saw was you. Something contorted and warped by Hydra, a monster created for the sole purpose of someone else’s gain, someone who got lost somewhere along the way to the whims of others.

It was the first time in your entire life that you'd hesitated to do what you knew needed to be done.

Sentry had slammed you into a wall, unaffected by your hesitation.

Later Bob had apologized profusely, stumbling over his words and refusing to make too much eye contact. You didn't understand what the feeling was in the pit of your stomach when he had. The only thing you could think to tell him was that he didn't have to apologize, because you understood what it was like to be used. And then walked away before he could ask you how.

"What the fuck Bob?" Walker's voice splits through the silence in the wake of the accident. "You could have killed me!"

The weights were scattered around where Walker had been sitting on the floor to take a minute break from lifting, and a 400 lb was sitting directly where Walker's head had been, a long thin crack snaking out from where it made impact with the floor.

"I- I'm sorry." Bob stutters out, eyes flicking around the room from Walker, to Bucky, then to you. The shock of bright blue rests on where you stand for an extra beat before his gaze moves back to Walker.

Walker stands from the ground, fists clenched at his sides, face contorted with rage and annoyance as he glares down at Bob.

"Sorry doesn't cut it! Why are you so fucking careless? I could be dead right now!"

Bob shrinks back from Walker, disappearing further into his blue sweatshirt. Some of his brown hair has fallen forward into his face like a shield as if it wishes to block the onslaught of Walker's anger.  "I w-wwas just trying to-"

"I don’t care what you were trying to do!" Walker snaps back.

Something inside of you flares red-hot.

"Back off Walker." The words pass through your mouth before you can think to stop them. "He said he was sorry."

Walker's gaze doesn't move from Bob. "I wasn't talking to you Mystic."

"Yeah, well unfortunately I'm talking to you." You continue, eyes flicking over to where Bob has begun to fiddle with the ends of his sleeves nervously. "So I guess we're both doing things we don't want to today."

Walker turns in your direction his eyes narrowed. "Why don't you go back to having your ass handed to you?"

By now the dull throb of your anger in your body has transformed into a roar, the uncomfortable feeling of whatever the hell it is telling you to stand up for Bob unable to ignore.

You hated how small he looked. How Bob seemed to be trying to vanish into the floor, to melt away into the concrete, or blow away like a piece of lint. He'd been through enough in his life and you'd be damned if you were going to let an asshole like Walker treat him like trash.

"Listen Captain Douchebag. Your massive inferiority complex does not give you the right to talk down to people. So why don't you pack all that up and your gym bro muscles, and get the hell out of here?"

Bob lets out a giggle-like snort before he can stop himself at your comment, the small sound making the end of your mouth curve up in a half smile. It made you feel a little better to see him smile, it was better than him looking like he wanted to melt into a puddle of goo.

But predictably, all it does is make Walker go from mad to furious. His left eye begins to twitch with annoyance.

"What did you just say to me?" If looks could kill, you'd definitely be on the ground bleeding out from the way Walker is staring at you, but you don't care.

"You heard me."

"Why don't you come over here and say that shit to me?" He snarls while flexing his muscles under the dark gray t-shirt he's wearing.

You wonder if he thought he was intimidating you, even when he knew that you had enough strength to squish him down accordion style. You go through the mental filo-fax you had on all the people who had tried to stand in your way. Most of them had the same attitude as Walker. An all American asshole who thought that everyone should kiss the ground he walked on.

They really chose a winner for Captain America. Was there even a screening process? Or did they immediately choose the guy that is every nerd's waking nightmare in high school?

"Okay." You shrug. "Here I come."

You didn't need that cup of coffee for an energy boost to kick Walker's ass. Hell, you could have a whole month of sleepless nights and still put him in his place.

Bucky's thrusts his arm in front of your chest to stop the advance. "Go cool off John. There's been enough bloodshed this week already."

"No, I don't think there has." Walker retorts.

"Yes, there has. Plus, we've got that briefing in an hour with Yelena about the Op in Europe. And I really don't want to bench you again."

"But she-" He points an accusatory finger in your direction and you flip him off.

"Go." Bucky says more forcefully.

Walker stands there for a few extra moments watching you with narrowed eyes, teeth grinding down together. Your gaze is locked with his, daring him to say something else. But he relents, muttering something under his breath and stalking out of the room, each heavy footfall down the hallway a thunderclap.

What a toddler.

"Don't do that." Bucky sighs, lowering his arm to his side again and giving you an annoyed look.

"Do what?"

"Make me get between the two of you. It makes me feel like a Kindergarten teacher."

"Judging by how childish Walker is acting-"

"You were both acting childish."

You roll your eyes at him. "I didn't ask you to step in. And Walker was asking for it-"

"I have told you time and time again not to goad him into a fight."

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were." Bucky sighs again.

Sometimes you thought it was funny that despite only meeting Bucky a year ago, he still acted like he'd been your dad for decades. Truth was, you knew that Bucky struggled with that little detail, the perversion of Hydra with his genetic material to create you without his knowledge.

"I'm not going to do this with you." You echo his sigh before marching over to the scattered weights on the ground and the overturned shelf.

Bob is still standing there, slightly curled in on himself, but he hasn't glanced away from you. He looks like he's contemplating something, trying to find the courage to speak.

"Are you okay?" You ask him softly as you pick up the empty shelf with one hand and set it straight before moving on to the scattered weights.

"Y-yeah." He nods enthusiastically, a few extra bobs of his head than what should be normal, his cheeks flushing that cute pink color. "T-tthanks for doing that. You- you didn't have to."

"Yeah I did." You pick up a stack of weights. "You're apart of this team. He was being an asshole."

"He always is." Bob gives you a half smile that makes something inside your chest tighten for a moment.

That's weird.

"True." You mirror his smile, lifting another few weights.

"We're not done talking about this," Bucky says your name, but comes over to help you clean up. "Maybe it's best if you stay here."

"What?" You half turn to him.

"The Op. I think you should stay here."

"But-"

You didn't know what you were going to follow up that sentence with. Probably something like 'but I was looking forward to breaking some noses' or maybe 'but I was looking forward to taking some anger out on the bad guys.' Both weren't the best to admit aloud, not to your therapist and not to Bucky.

You were supposed to see her again tomorrow, which meant another awkward hour long session where she dredged up things from the past you wished that you could forget. The overbearing sense of foreboding had begun to weigh on your shoulders again when thought about the upcoming appointment.

He shakes his head. "No buts. You were all over the place in training, and I want you to get some sleep. Besides," Bucky brings his right hand down on Bob's shoulder to give it an encouraging squeeze. "You can keep Bob company."

Bob's cheeks flush an even deeper red and he drops his gaze from your face to his hands to fiddle with his oversized sleeves again. They hang almost a full hands-length from his fingertips, the material beginning to fray and pull from the cuff.

"Buck, I'm fine-" You begin to say.

"No, you're not. I want you to take it easy. We'll be back in a few days."

"But-"

Bucky sighs your name, releasing Bob's shoulder. "I'm worried about you. You were distracted today and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt because it’s your fourth day in a row without sleep."

Your mouth drops open in shock. "How did yo-"

"I know everything." He answers. “But go on and see if you can convince Alexei to turn off the documentary and get ready for the brief. I want to talk to Bob for a minute.”

You glance over at Bob, who is watching you with curiosity. Bob knew that you hadn't slept last night or the night before because he'd been there sitting at the kitchen island the way he always did whenever you were making something.

You noticed that Bob had been doing that more and more since you moved into the tower permanently. That he seemed to appear in rooms that you were too, but he wouldn't always talk to you. At least, Bob only really talked to you when no one was around. Sometimes he would sit somewhere on the edge of the room with a book or something to fiddle with, occasionally looking up as if he was checking you were still there. You were under the impression that was what he meant to do today before he knocked over the weights on the shelf. That Bob really didn't want to lift, but for some reason he'd come in to see what you were doing.

You didn't understand why he was doing that, but you also didn't quite understand the feeling that sprouted wings in your chest  whenever it was just the two of you.

It was unfamiliar.

It felt differently than the usual buzz of warmth you had when Bucky and you used to hang out in his one bedroom apartment, crashing on the couch and watching an old black and white movie he called "classic." Or when Yelena and you went to the giant thrift store down the street to see if you could score some new jeans or a pair of leather boots. The feeling you had when you always thought to yourself that it was nice to have a friend.

But this was… odd. Not a bad odd, just different, something you’d never felt before and you couldn't name.

That being said, you did like being around Bob. Despite the whole Sentry/Void situation that happened before, there was something about him that was calming. He wasn't loud like Alexei. Didn't annoy you like Walker. Wasn't aloof like Ava.

He was different, quiet, and shy. He spoke only when he needed to say something- unfortunately sometimes the things he said only made you mad because he would say something self-deprecating that wasn't true at all.

But the truth was, you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that there was just something about Bob that you liked.

You think back to a few moments ago when you'd defended him from Walker. That instinctual urge to protect him from Walker's undeserved rage. The only person you'd ever really cared about and tried to protect was the man you were designed to kill, but you cared about Bob. You knew that.

It was just hard to decipher why.

"Fine. But come get find me before you leave." You say to Bucky before giving Bob a quick once-over.

He was standing up straighter now, still hiding a little bit behind his hair, but he did look better than he had when Walker was in the room. A sense of relief settles in the center of your chest, replacing the anger that burned hot beneath your rib-cage only moments ago.

"I'll see you later." You say to Bob, giving him an encouraging smile as you pass.

"O-okay." He stammers.

You knew you would. After all there was no doubt in your mind you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and would yet again end up in the kitchen at 3 am holding a spoon with Bob sitting at the kitchen island watching you with rapt attention.

You took in another deep breath counting to five before you released it, feeling the slow rise and fall of your chest, the gentle cradle of your mattress beneath your body. Your eyes were shut, the soft pillow beneath your head plush and cool to the touch. The pitter patter of rain against the roof of the tower a soft reminder of where you were, the rhythmic sound a soothing lullaby.

But not for you.

You turn over again fruitlessly going through the motions  to try and fall asleep. Mentally checking off the list of things your therapist told you to do to make it easier and also the random things you'd found while surfing the internet bleary eyed and trying to find something, anything to put you under.

But nothing ever seemed to work.

She'd also suggested melatonin or something stronger, but the problem was losing control like that, taking something that dulled your senses didn't appeal to you. Of course this also only emphasized the idea that maybe you weren't falling asleep because you didn't feel safe, didn't feel like you could surrender yourself when anything could happen while you did.

Also, because it reminded you too much of the syringes full of clear liquid that made your mind feel foggy, hazy, as if there was a cotton ball inside your head getting slowly pulled apart. The same ones that were used to keep you docile when you didn't want to go under.

The memory surfaces like a rising wave before you can distract yourself. The prick of the needle in your arm, the tug of the leather straps on your wrists that held you down on the bed, while the hospital gown scratched at your legs. The face of the doctor above you materializes, the bottom half of his face obscured by a mask, eyes shielded with goggles.

"Stop fighting. It'll all be over soon." His voice echoes in your ears as the straps rub your skin raw.

You open your eyes to rid yourself of the image, fighting the shudder that crawls down your spine as the memory comes back. The digital alarm clock on your bedside table comes into focus, the bright red 2:37 am flashing, mocking you.

Alright. I'm up.

You sit up and look around the room.

It was an average size and held only a bookshelf, your bed, a small desk, and your bedside table. There was a large window on the back wall that gave another stunning view of the city and the bathroom you shared with Bob, Yelena, and Bucky was across the hall.

When you moved in you hadn't had much. You didn't have any personal photos or mementos from before, however you did have drawings.

Every single blank wall was covered with them, overlapping and tapped together, a hobby that you picked up on the road somewhere, drawing places you'd been, people you saw. Bucky had one of your drawings framed in his room. Something you drew of the two of you sitting back his one bedroom apartment on the couch, eating pizza on a Saturday night while watching a movie.

Your eyes flicker across the drawings on the wall, stopping on one you drew while at a coffee shop in Berlin. It was of an older couple sitting on a bench feeding the pigeons.  It was your favorite one, the memory of you sitting there with  the soft chatter of the patrons around you, feeling the tickle of the wind in your hair, watching the couple laugh, watching the older man gently brush hair from the woman's face.

It was the first time you'd seen something like that on your first real mission alone. And after you'd been late after to meet up with your handler and he'd given you something to remember what would happen if you ever were again.

Just inhale… exhale.

You think to yourself taking a moment, before you slowly get out of bed and make your way to the door of your bedroom.

The tower is quiet and dark. The only sound coming from the soft patter of rain against the roof and the gentle pad of your footsteps against the cool black marble floors. You pass Bucky's room, not bothering to look up. He wasn't here, neither was the rest of the team.

It was just Bob and you, and you hoped that he was having better luck at sleeping than you were. You hadn't heard anything coming from his room next door to suggest otherwise.

The thought of him brings the memory of how he looked earlier with Walker in the gym, an unpleasant emotion flickering in your chest as it does.

He's okay. He's asleep.

You weren't buying that. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came out of his room to find you in the kitchen as he usually did.

The kitchen is huge. A monstrosity of gold appliances, solid black backsplash with flecks of gold, countertops made of hard black granite, and tucked into the far corner of the living room, directly across from the bar. The large windows show the city below slightly blurred with rain, the lights beyond hazy, as the distant rumble of thunder rattles the glass in the panes.

You pull open the pantry and root around in the refrigerator as you try to figure out what to make.

Maybe an apple pie?

As cliché as it was, apple pie was one of Bucky's favorites and you thought that maybe he'd like something familiar when he came back.

Besides, apple pie is always better the second day.

You find the recipe on your phone that you bookmarked the other day and the bag of apples in the back of the refrigerator, striking gold when you realize that you had some sense to buy some granny smiths as well as red delicious when you'd made a grocery run two days ago. One of the contestants on the GBBO had sworn that using different kinds of apples "enhanced" the flavor of the pie. No idea what that meant, but you were going to try.

It takes about ten minutes for Bob to come out of his room, slowly but surely making his way down the hallway with tentative footfalls, while you back is turned, but you can still sense that he's there.

Years of training and your heightened senses alerted you to his presence the second he took a hesitant step out of his bedroom onto the polished floors. The soft swish of the fabric of his pants together, the gentle pad of his bare feet against the ground, and the prickle of his eyes focused on your unprotected back.

"Are you trying to sneak up on me?" You ask, looking through the pantry. "Because it's kinda hard to do that."

"N-." Bob audibly swallows. "No I was- was just about to say hello. Um. Hi?"

The sound of his voice makes you smile to yourself. The nervous tremor apparent as he stumbles through the sentence… but it didn't annoy you. You found it cute.

"Hi." You smile at him as you turn to lay the bag of apples on the large kitchen island between the two of you.

He slides into one of the barstools across from you, hands in his lap, still wearing the oversized sweatshirt from before. Your eyes trace over the frayed sleeves once more and you make a mental note to pick him up another one at the thrift store Yelena and you had been frequenting once a week.

 "Couldn't sleep?" You ask, beginning to peel the apples.

He shakes his head once. "Y-you?"

"Nope."

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you continue to peel and slice apples.

"What are you making?" He asks watching you with curiosity.

"Hopefully an apple pie. I thought maybe that Bucky would want something a little more 'familiar' when he got back." You twirl the knife expertly in your hand, but feel a twinge of something when you think of him off on a mission without you there to watch his back.

Bob hesitates for a moment, ducking his head to his lap shyly, but you can tell he wants to say something.

"What?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Are- are you and B-b-ucky," Bob bites the inside of his cheek. "Together?"

You almost drop the knife in surprise. "What?"

It was the last thing that you expected him to ask you. Bob had never asked you something so personal before. Usually the conversations revolved around ridiculous things that happened at the tower, what you were baking- once Bob had asked you what your favorite flower was, which was weird and you didn't understand why he needed to know that, but never anything like this.

"I mean you and him are always-" Bob is flushed to the roots of his hair, still not looking up at you. "Around each other joking and I-I-"

"No." You shake your head with a laugh. "We're just friends."

The rest of the team didn't know about Bucky and you, and personally you wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't the easiest thing to bring up in conversation and your trust issues didn't let you. Something about giving out that extra bit of information seemed unnecessary, and you'd always rather have people underestimate you than know exactly who and what they were dealing with.

"Oh." Bob's face is the color of the apples you were cutting up, and again you can’t help but smile at how nervous he was.

He really is so different than everyone else.

"Bob can you reach the flour?" You ask to change the subject. "I'm pretty sure Walker keeps putting it up there to piss me off."

"O-okay." He stands from the barstool, the metallic legs making a high pitched screech across the floors. Bob winces at the sound, giving you a sheepish smile, before he rounds the counter to the pantry. He stands up on his tip-toes to reach the top shelf, the bottom of his sweatshirt pulling up to reveal a tiny slip of the skin above his waistband, the taunt muscle of his abdomen catching for a few moments in the can lights fastened to the ceiling of the kitchen.

You stare for a few seconds longer than was necessary. It was easy to forget how muscular he was, especially when Bob wore all those oversized closed all the time. But you weren't expecting to feel the skin of your cheeks heat for a few seconds when Bob turned around and caught you staring.

His wavy hair is hanging forward in his face again, long and curling up at the ends, but you can still see the shimmer of the cobalt of his eyes beneath watching you.

Something passes between the two of you, some unspoken electricity that makes you feel like you’d just jumped out of an airplane. As if every single neuron in your body is firing at once.

"Um- thanks." You avoid his gaze as you take the flour from his outstretched hands and turn back to the apples, beginning to measure out the spices, sugar, and flour needed for the filling listed on the recipe shinning on your phone screen.

Bob doesn't move from beside you for a few moments. His feet shuffling in place slightly. You know he wants to ask you something, but this time you're not sure if you should ask him what it is. Something about him being so close to you was making you feel weird.

Not a bad weird, but an unusual feeling. A warmth that seemed to rise up from the bottom of your stomach that you'd never experienced before.

You still couldn't figure out why being around Bob seemed so effortless, so easy, so… different. You weren't used to being like this either. Your entire life you'd never held back what you said, the questions you asked, but right now you were almost afraid.

Odd given the fact that you'd faced down numerous enhanced opponents and never felt a tickle of fear, but now… you weren't sure.

“Um-" You clear your throat. "What did you and Bucky talk about?”

Bob leans against the counter to your immediate left, toying with a discarded remnant of an apple skin between his fingertips. “He-he told me that he wants me to start training more.”

“Really?” The rhythmic motion of the spoon in the bowl, stirring together the ingredients is doing little to block the way your heart has begin to beat a little faster in your chest.

What is happening to me?

Bob nods.

“I mean it’s not the worst idea." You muse, scooping out a spoonful of apples into another small bowl before pushing it across the counter to Bob. "Maybe it would help? Or maybe you'd feel better about being more in control?"

"Maybe." He pulls out the drawer to his left for a fork, the high pitched ring of the silverware inside snapping through the kitchen.

The other version of you that lived in your head was confused. The version that recognized that power meant control, and if Bob was supposed to be the strongest being in the entire universe, why wouldn't he want to be? Why wouldn't he want to use his powers?

It seemed ironic that someone so powerful was so determined to be so invisible. But the other part of you couldn't help, but feel bad for him. Because you knew Bob- well, knew him enough. He wasn't like any of the other opponents you'd faced, the ones that were loud and boisterous and thought themselves unbeatable.

He was just Bob.

Bob spears an apple on his fork before taking a bite, audibly moaning at the taste. "I can't wait for this to be done."

"You like apple pie? Would've pegged you for a Key Lime Pie kinda guy. You being from Florida and all-" You smirk, but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest at the compliment.

"That seems a l-little stateist." He cracks a smile.

"I've never been to Florida so I can't exactly comment or speculate."

"Really?"

"Nope. No missions to the Sunshine State. I've also never had a beach day." You add with a shrug. "Hydra didn't exactly give me any days off or benefits."

The pre-made pie dough was more than thawed out on the counter by now and by some miracle there was a pie plate in the kitchen. How or why you had no idea who had thought about it, but you were thankful. The dough is soft and squishy as you unroll it and place it carefully in the bottom.

Bob doesn't laugh at your joke. "How long were you-"

"Ah, Ah, Ah. Nope. You don't get to change the subject." You say before he can ask you about it. Mentioning Hydra was enough of a dip into the past for you, thank you very much. "We're talking about you. Now, in your head, what's the worst thing that could happen?"

“Huh?” He sounds confused.

“Tell me what you think the worse thing that can happen is if you trained more."

The sugar and spice coated apples tumble into the crust with a delightful plop.

"I c-could hu- hurt someone." His eyes flick to yours for a second, before he drops his gaze to his hands.

"How would you hurt them?"

“I-.” He hesitates. “I don’t know my strength. And before I-“

His hands pull at the fraying sleeves of his oversized sweatshirt. It didn’t take a genius to know that he was thinking about the day a few months ago when he basically dismantled the team within seconds and threw you against the wall. Concussions weren't fun for anyone. You'd spent the better part of a week with intermittent headaches while Bucky had to practically sit at your bedside to make you stay in bed all the while you complained that he was babying you.

Bob curls in on himself again, turning away from you, his eyes falling down to the half-eaten bowl full of sugary apples on the counter. It reminds you too much of how he looked when he was with Walker earlier. How small he was. It makes an unpleasant sensation spike just under your rib cage.

"Bob." You sigh his name to make him look up at you again, he does, blue eyes just a little watery, faded to a darkened gray. The color of the sea on a stormy day. Breakers stirring the chilling water into a frothy white in a torrential rainstorm.

"It's not going to get better if you ignore it, and I think it's a good idea for you to train. You wouldn't be afraid about losing control or hurting people if you used your powers more. I think it'll help you be just a little more comfortable."

He doesn't answer.

"How about this?" You bite the inside of your cheek in contemplation. "How about you let me train you?"

Probably not your best idea. Going toe to toe with Bob when he was Sentry was not your idea of a good time, but you hated the way he was looking at you.

Lost and vulnerable.

"You?" Bob gulps.

"Yeah. I mean I don't have powers like yours, but I'm a little stronger than most of the team so I can take a punch or maybe two from you." You crack a smile, but he doesn't return it.

In fact, Bob's eyes widen at the thought, worry flashing through his irises. "But- But I'd-" Bob stumbles slightly over his words. "I-I don't want-t to hurt you."

"Trust me." The smile slips into a frown. "I've had worse."

The scars that crisscrossed over your body were proof of that, the ones you hide beneath long sleeves and your favorite oversized worn in leather overcoat- the one you stole on your first mission ages ago and never regretted once. Each one a reminder that failure was never an option, and that there was a price to pay for disobedience.

Bob doesn't answer.

You turn back to the pie dough, cutting the lattice. It comes out a little more clumsy than you want it to, but you didn't mind. Baking to you meant something that didn't have to be perfect. And after years of only being perfect it was a relief.

"Do you re- really think that it-" Bob swallows. "Would help me?"

"Maybe. I'm not an expert, but I think that if you're scared about hurting other people then-" You begin to lay the strips of dough down on top of the pie. "I think that it would make you feel better to know you're in control. I mean-"

You hesitate to finish.

After years of being manipulated and years of losing pieces of yourself to other people, sharing things about yourself was difficult. Finding the courage to trust, really trust another human being was like having your hair pulled out. Even with Bucky at first it had been so hard to share things with him without feeling guilty or worried later on that he was going to use it against you someday.

But there was a little part of yourself that wanted to share things with Bob. You still weren't exactly sure why that was or why you wanted to trust him, but…

He's watching you again with his big blue eyes, waiting for the next thing you're going to say. Face open, vulnerable, and trusting-

You didn't know how he did that. Bob didn't know you and didn't know the real you.

How can he do that so easily?

"I understand what it's like to be afraid of yourself." You begin slowly, turning away from his gaze because it's too much. "Afraid of what you're going to do. Afraid of losing control. But, if you ignore it, it won't go away. It'll only grow more and more each day, until it consumes you and there's nothing that you can do to stop it."

Sometimes you could feel it inside- the other half of you. The darkness that tried to rip it's way out, the person you used to be rattling the walls of her cage where you locked her away. Biding her time for the moment you were too weak to push her away.

"So maybe, we start out slow." You continue as you pick up the pie to place it in the oven. "Take it one day at a time. Respect your boundaries. And see what happens."

A pleasant wave of heat comes when the oven opens, before you gently slide in the pie, but for some reason it feels different. The whole time you can feel Bob's eyes on you, studying you, and it makes the heat prickle further underneath your skin.

Sometimes it was difficult for you to discern what he was thinking, something that infuriated you given that you spent so much of your time and prided yourself on the ability to read people. It came with the job and you were the best- except when it came to him.

"Y- you don't think I'll hur- hurt you?" He mumbles quietly.

The worry that shone in his gaze makes a small shock travel down your spine. Again you think to yourself how weird it is that Bob is so focused on the possibility of hurting you, when it was him that should be worried of you hurting him.

But there was another thought buried deep down that you couldn’t shake- that Bob may have been the first person who didn’t want to.

"There's always the possibility of that." You shrug. "Honestly I'm also kinda worried I might hurt you."

The end of his lips twitch slightly in a smile as if you'd said something funny.

Why does he think that's funny?

He waits another few moments, living in the silence that stretches between the two of you. "O-okay."

"Good. We can start tomorrow-" You glance up at the clock hanging above the bar across the room. "Or later today."

Bob nods.

"Now, come on. We've got fifty minutes and there's a new episode of Crime Scene Kitchen on Hulu."

Bob's face lights up. "Can we m-mmake popcorn?"

"If you don't I won't let you watch it with me."

If it's possible, Bob's smile gets even bigger as he turns back to the pantry in search of popcorn, while you make your way over to the plush leather couches in front of the TV, settling in for the long haul.

Outside the tower the rain continued to pummel against the glass windows, slipping and sliding down the smooth cool surface that shook with the distant rumble of thunder, while the inside filled with the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon, the warmth of the oven, and the crisp sound of popcorn.

A/N: Guys I think the slow burn on this one is gonna kill me, because I promise no matter what y'all are feeling when you read a slow burn, writing one is a hundred billion times worse 😅

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic series!

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@jollyhunter @angrydragon90 @toxicrelief