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seobluuu · 3 days ago

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𓂃 ࣪⋆☕️˚ ༘ across the world (& back to you) ⋆ 김민정

in which aespa’s world tour finally begins, and the one thing winter isn’t prepared to leave behind is you — her girlfriend, her home, her favorite person. but with the brutal time zones, and chaotic schedules, staying connected isn’t easy.

starring. kim minjeong x nonidol!reader

word count. 1.7k

genre. fluff , long distance , minimal angst

your phone buzzes during a break at work, and your heart leaps before you even check it.

minjeong. three in the morning for her, which means she’s either just stumbled back to the hotel, exhausted but still humming with post-concert adrenaline, or she’s wide awake, too keyed up to sleep.

you can picture her perfectly — curled up on some generic hotel bed, hair a mess, still wearing that shirt she stole from you last month.

minjeong i passed a café that made me think of u yesterday they had those tiny sugar cubes u like stole a handful for u 13:27

a blurry photo follows — her palm, sugar cubes half-crushed in her grip, the edges of the picture smeared from her moving too fast. you can almost hear her laugh, that breathy little giggle she gets when she’s proud of herself for being ridiculous. the kind that makes your chest ache because god, you wish you were there to poke her dimple and watch her pretend to swat you away.

your fingers hover over the keyboard, torn between scolding her and telling her you love her so much it’s stupid. you settle for both.

you you’re a menace also i love you also SAVE ME ONE 13:29

you tuck your phone away, but the grin doesn’t leave your face for the rest of your shift. your coworker elbows you and raises an eyebrow. "your girl again?" you don’t even bother denying it.

hours later, halfway through a dinner you’re barely paying attention to, your phone lights up.

minjeong too late! i ate them all lol im kidding i still have one saved for u 21:45

another photo — this time, a single sugar cube, slightly worse for wear, nestled in the pocket of her jeans like some kind of contraband treasure.

minjeong it’s so gross now sticky perfect for u <3 21:46

you press your lips together to stifle a smile, but it’s useless.

you miss her. miss the way she’d bump her shoulder against yours just to get your attention, the way she’d whine when you stole the last bite of her dessert only to immediately push the plate toward you anyway. miss the way she always, always found a way to smuggle little pieces of the world back to you, like she was determined to stitch herself into every part of your life, no matter the distance.

you disgusting buuuuut i’ll take it also hurry home so i can kiss you for being the worst 21:46

minjeong bold of u to assume i’ll let u stop at just one 21:47

your face burns. yeah. you really miss her.

the postcard from tokyo arrives on a sunday, slipped between bills and grocery store flyers. you recognize minjeong's messy handwriting before you even flip it over — loopy and uneven, like she’d written it in a hurry between rehearsals or soundchecks.

the front shows a spray of cherry blossoms, petals caught mid-fall, pink as the sunrise.

and when you turn it over, your heart does that stupid little flutter it always does.

"the sakura blooms made me think of how you blush. miss you. (p.s. bought you matcha kitkats. hid them from giselle.)"

you trace the words with your thumb. the ink smudges slightly under your touch — she must’ve spilled water on it, or maybe her iced coffee, because she’s always knocking things over when she’s distracted.

the wall above your desk is slowly filling up with these. each one a tiny piece of her, sent across oceans. a polaroid from paris where she’d drawn devil horns on herself in sharpie. a napkin from berlin with "they had your favorite tea here!! (drank it for u. you’re welcome!)" scrawled in smudged pen.

that night, your phone rings at 2 am. you fumble for it in the dark, already knowing who it is before you see her name lighting up the screen.

“hi,” she breathes, voice scratchy with exhaustion. there’s rustling on her end — the creak of a hotel bed, the muffled sound of a blanket being dragged closer.

“hi,” you whisper back, curling into your pillow like it might bridge the distance between you.

she’s half-asleep already, but she called anyway. always calls anyway, no matter how late or how tired, because she knows you love hearing her voice right before bed, even if it’s just for five minutes.

“tell me about your day,” she mumbles, words slurring together.

so you do. you tell her about the rain, how it drummed against your window all afternoon. about the book you’re reading, about how your cat knocked over a plant earlier and then had the audacity to look proud about it.

her breathing evens out, slow and deep, but you keep talking anyway, just to hear the occasional sleepy hum — little noises that tell you she’s still there, still listening, even in her dreams.

“minjeong?” you whisper after a while, testing.

silence. then, barely audible, like she’s speaking through layers of cotton.

"…love you."

your chest tightens. she’s asleep, or close to it, and still — still — her stubborn heart finds its way to you.

“love you more,” you murmur, pressing the phone closer, as if you could tuck the words into her hands like another postcard, another i’m thinking of you.

“nuh-uh,” she slurs, so faint you almost miss it. “impossible.”

you smile into the dark. somewhere, thousands of miles away, she’s probably drooling on a hotel pillow, one arm flung out like she’s reaching for someone who isn’t there.

you’ll tease her about it tomorrow.

for now, you just listen to her breathe, and pretend the space between you doesn’t exist at all.

you’d planned it for weeks. a proper anniversary dinner, even if it had to be over video call — real candles flickering on the table (because she’d whine if you used fake ones), her favorite takeout ordered from that little vietnamese place she loves, the playlist she made you last year humming softly in the background. you even wore the stupidly soft sweater she got you, the one that still smells like her laundry detergent.

but then her interview runs late. then a fan meeting gets extended. then her manager pulls her aside for just five more minutes that stretch into an hour.

by the time your phone finally lights up with her name, it’s 4 am for her, the food is cold, and the candles have burned down to stubs.

minjeong baby please pick up i’m sorry i’m so sorry 04:23

you stare at the screen, throat burning. you know it’s not her fault. you know she’d rather be here, curled up on your couch, stealing bites off your plate and laughing when you swat her hand away.

but it hurts anyway.

you it’s fine you’re busy i get it 04:23

the lie tastes bitter.

minjeong it’s not fine don’t say it’s fine when it’s not 04:25

and then it unravels.

words like "forgotten" and "exhausted" and "i’m trying" hang between you, heavy and sharp. she sounds so tired, and you sound so hurt, and neither of you knows how to fix it when the world keeps pulling her away. you hang up first, pressing your palms to your eyes before the tears can spill over.

the silence is suffocating.

but then —

voice note from minjeong - 04:36

her voice is raw, shaky, like she’s been crying.

"you—you’re it for me. you know that, right? this tour will end. i will come home. and i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

a shaky breath. a pause. then, softer.

"i’ll bring you cold takeout at 4 am. i’ll let you steal all the blankets. i—i’ll learn how to cook your favorite dish even though i’ll burn it. just.... please still be there when i get back."

you press replay. again. again. until her voice is the only thing in the room, until the ache in your chest softens just enough to breathe.

you i'm still here i'm not going anywhere 04:52

minjeong promise? 04:52

you promise now go to sleep you idiot 04:52

minjeong only if u promise to eat the cold food for me 04:53

you laugh, even though your eyes are still wet.

you it’s terrible now 04:53

minjeong just like me 🩷 04:54

you’re sulking in your rattiest pajamas — the ones with the stretched-out collar and the little coffee stain she always teases you about —with a half-eaten pint of ice cream in hand when the doorbell rings.

you ignore it. probably just a package, you think, digging your spoon into the melting chocolate with more force than necessary.

then your phone buzzes.

minjeong open the door 12:03

your heart stops.

no. no way. she’s supposed to be in paris for another three days. you scramble up so fast the ice cream nearly topples, your socks slipping on the hardwood as you lurch toward the door.

and there she is.

winter — your minjeong — stands in the hallway, hair a tangled mess from travel, dark circles under her eyes worse than you’ve ever seen them. she’s clutching a crumpled bouquet of sad-looking airport flowers in one hand and her duffel bag in the other, her jacket half-zipped like she’d thrown it on in a hurry.

“hi,” she says, voice wrecked, like she’s been crying or maybe just hasn’t slept in days.

you burst into tears.

minjeong drops everything. the flowers, the bag, everything, and catches you before you can even fully process that she’s here, arms tight around your waist, face buried in the curve of your neck. her skin is cold from the late-night air, but her breath is warm against your collarbone.

“i changed my flight,” she mumbles into your skin, fingers gripping the back of your pajama shirt like she’s afraid you’ll vanish. “couldn’t wait anymore.”

you pull back just enough to cup her face, thumbs brushing under her puffy eyes. “you’re ridiculous,” you whisper, but your voice cracks halfway through.

she grins, exhausted but bright, the way only she can — like the sun breaking through storm clouds. “for you?” she says, leaning into your touch. “always.”

and then she kisses you, slow and deep, her hands sliding up to tangle in your hair. she tastes like stale airplane coffee and spearmint gum, and her lips are chapped from the dry cabin air, but it doesn’t matter. none of it matters. because she’s here, solid and real in your arms, and when she sighs against your mouth, it feels like coming home.

behind you, the abandoned ice cream puddle on the floor is definitely ruining the rug.

you can’t bring yourself to care.

seobluuu speaks 💬 im posting this during math lesson so it technically isnt proofread but nevertheless i had soo much fun writing this ehehehee — 🪽

#seobluuu writes ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#winter #aespa #kim minjeong #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #kim minjeong x reader #fluff #long distance #wlw

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uyinq · 3 days ago

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THE CONTAINMENT INITIATIVE ☆ B.R

chapter 3 — is it really you?

[bob reynolds x AFAB! reader, psychic!reader, empath?reader,slow burn,fluff,angst,slow burn,eventual smut, messy co-dependent relationships]

❱❱ WORD COUNT ﹕4,025

❱❱ SUMMARY﹕ Things are getting tense in the tower. Sentry needs to be reeled back in after his first mission. And something starts to claw at the edges of your mind like it's toying with you.

❱❱ WARNINGS ﹕ profanity, violence, trauma, eventual smut, psychological horror, mentions of: needles, injections, torture, and human testing

❱❱ NOTES ﹕ i love the void he makes me clap my hands like a seal. anyway, this chapter was fun. sorry for the slight inactivity i have been very busy packing + preparing for college.

(divider from uzmacchiato)

★ chapters ﹒﹒ masterlist

★ tags - @coutureisart @jenneric2003 @tfamidoingwithmylife

(ask to be tagged!) ࿐

You feel them watching you more now.

Not just Valentina. But everyone on the team. Especially Bucky and Yelena.

Barnes has gotten tougher on you lately. If you delve too deep or feel too much, he grabs your hand and corrects you with a gruff reminder.

“No digging. Focus.”

Yelena’s gotten snappier. She’s not as smiley and playful as she was before. She barks at you like some sort of mademoiselle commenting on a young ballerina’s form.

“That was wimpy. You can do better.”

You try not to take it personally.

They’re trying to help. You know that. Bucky’s warnings, Yelena’s sharpness–it’s all training. All part of the plan to keep you from becoming someone they can’t control.

Still, it gnaws at you.

The way they flinch when you let your emotions spike. The way Yelena’s knuckles go white when she blocks a hit and feels something… more. The way Bucky looks at you, like he’s already bracing for the worst.

You lie awake at night now.

You’re trying to remember why you’re here in the first place. It’s not about you, and it never was about you. This is about keeping Bob safe and the Sentry sedated.

The training isn’t for you. It’s for him.

So why does it feel like you’re becoming something dangerous?

The air in the Watchtower feels different the day Valentina finally lets Bob out.

No one says it aloud, but you can feel the quiet unease trickling down the halls. Ava’s unusually quiet. Walker is, for once, sober before noon. Even Yelena doesn’t crack a joke when she suits up.

You don't go to the launch bay. You watch from the control room, standing just behind the technicians as they monitor heart rates, vitals, damage readouts.

Bob’s feed cuts out ten minutes after they drop in.

You wait with bated breath, catching bits and pieces of the puzzle here and there. It wasn’t an overly complex mission. It was simple– a hostage situation.

When the team returns, they’re a mess. Even Alexei isn’t his usual chipper self.

While everyone else heads for the showers, you’re stepping into the launch bay.

Sentry soars in like lightning, landing on the edge of the launchpad as the heavy metal doors begin to shut, blocking out the sunlight. Rows of dim LEDs flick on, one at a time, lighting the path he’s meant to follow into the Watchtower.

Bucky lingers by the door. He knows better than to leave you alone with him.

It’s the first time you’ve had the terrifying pleasure of meeting him. The golden god with a much more confident stride than you’re used to seeing on Bob.

His suit is a bit scuffed, covered in soot as he pushes his hair back with one bloody hand.

You’ve never seen him like this. But it doesn’t stop you.

He’s all swagger, slightly irritated with long strides, fingers clenching and unclenching. You meet him halfway, stopping a few feet away from him.

He eyes you once, twice. His jaw twitches. Then he smirks.

His smirk isn’t Bob’s.

It’s sharp and knowing, like he sees every flaw you’ve tried to hide, like he could unravel you with a single touch if he really wanted to.

“You look absolutely terrified.”

You are. You definitely are.

Despite the seriousness of it all– of how important it is not to piss him off– you chuckle.

Then you quickly school your expression, eyes going wide as you realized you just laughed in Sentry’s presence. But he doesn’t soar into the sky or turn you into a pile of ash. He just smiles.

It’s not Bob’s easy-going smile. It doesn’t hold that same warmth. But, damn, if it isn’t reassuring.

He moves toward you, and you can feel an emotion stir in Bucky. But you don’t move.

He takes another step.

Close enough now that the heat of him rolls off his body in waves– tension coiled in every inch of muscle, shoulders drawn tight like he’s trying to hold the sky back from falling.

You don’t flinch. You don’t even breathe. You just look up at him.

“Why aren’t you running?” he asks, softer this time. Not mocking, genuinely curious. Like he’s testing the walls of a new world.

“Because I don’t think you want me to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head. The glow behind his irises pulses faintly.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

“I am,” you admit. “But I don’t have to be.”

That earns you a twitch of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Something thoughtful.

Then his hand lifts, hovers inches from your face–he doesn’t touch, but the air bends toward you like it wants him to.

You can feel your abilities react to his, like your powers are already trying to slot into place, searching for Bob beneath the surface.

“I’ll admit,” He murmurs, only loud enough for you to hear. “I’m curious about you.”

His hand moves down, gently taking your forearm in his grasp. You’d be scared if it wasn’t so… tender. Not gentle. But not unkind. Not firm.

He tilts his head, thumb grazing along your pulse. His forehead wrinkles with curiosity, and he chuckles, the sound low and dark.

“I can feel it… stirring under your skin like venom.”

Sentry takes another step closer, and he’s far too close to you.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of how you’re not scared anymore. You’re nervous. Not like someone worried about their own life. Like you’re being backed into the wall by a handsome stranger, and you’re stuck between fighting them off and giving in to them.

He takes your hand in his own, fingers wrapping around the back of your own as he smiles. It’s not quite malicious– but it's certainly not friendly.

“I won’t fight it, this time.”

You barely have time to brace yourself before it happens.

The moment he says it, the tension snaps. Like a current arcing between two live wires. It rushes into your bloodstream like static. You can feel him everywhere–coiling around your spine, brushing over your thoughts with a wicked grin.

Your knees nearly buckle.

Bob flinches, like he didn’t expect it either. His eyes go wide for a split second, the golden shine flaring like a flare behind his pupils. But he doesn’t pull back.

Instead, he breathes you in.

Your powers flood into him–emotions, sensations, memories, fragments of who you are. And in return, you feel the Void lurch forward, hungry and ancient, drawn to the weakness you didn't know you’d left open.

‘I see you now.’

It’s not a hiss or a growl. It’s a sinister purr.

You squeeze his hand, hard, grounding yourself before it takes root. “Bob,” you whisper, voice shaking.

His gaze flicks to yours, flickering with tension–Sentry still half there, trying to decide if you’re a threat or an offering.

“Bob,” you repeat, firmer now. “Come back.”

For a moment, nothing changes. Then, he blinks. And you feel him.

The part of him that aches. That’s tired. That wants so badly to be seen as something human.

He’s back.

And right when he’s finally stable, you sway on your feet. You stumble, and he catches you before you can fall. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you upright, a mop of brown hair brushes your face as he pulls you closer.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, hands clinging to your shoulder blades as you gasp for air.

It’s definitely not okay.

But it feels that way when he whispers sweet things against your hair and holds you tight. Like he’s afraid you’ll fall apart if he lets you go.

His grip tightens for just a second before easing, like he’s recalibrating his strength, like Bob is back in control. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken as himself in hours. “You pulled me out.”

Your hands fist in the front of his suit, breath still stuttering. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know.” He pauses. “You scare me, too.”

You lean into his chest, not out of affection– maybe it’s that, too– but because your legs still don’t feel real. Your thoughts are barely stitched together, frayed at the edges where something dark has pushed its way in.

He just holds you.

There’s no manipulation in it. No menace. Not Sentry.

Just Bob. Quiet and solid, pressing his cheek to the top of your head like you’re the one keeping him steady.

The walk back to your room feels like dragging yourself through mud. The walls of the Watchtower seem to pulse around you, fluorescents overhead flickering like the Tower itself knows something’s shifted.

You make it to your hallway before you stop.

Bucky’s already there.

Leaning against the wall across from your door, arms crossed over his chest, head low like he’s been waiting a while. He doesn’t look at you at first. Just breathes.

Then;

“You okay?”

It’s a stupid question. He knows you’re not.

You don’t answer right away. You step past him and rest your hand on your doorframe like it’ll keep you upright. Then you nod. Barely.

“Yeah, I’m… fine. It’s just really draining. It’s a lot to feel anyone like that. But Bob isn’t anyone. He’s three people, rolled into one.”

Bucky doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. Just watches you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re downplaying it for his benefit or yours.

You can feel it crawling behind your ribs still– whatever’s left behind when the Void brushes too close.

“He’s three people,” Bucky repeats quietly. “And one of them wants to consume the world.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “I know.”

“You didn’t just feel him,” Bucky says, his voice a notch lower. “You brought him back. That’s not just a connection, that’s control.”

You bristle, something flickering in your eyes. “It’s not control.”

“No?” he presses, stepping closer. “Then what would’ve happened if you weren’t there today?”

You glance down. Your fingers are still trembling. You don’t have a good answer.

Bucky sighs and rubs a hand over his jaw. He’s not trying to scare you. But he is trying to ground you in the truth.

You finally meet his eyes, and your voice comes out raw. “I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to control people.”

“I know,” he says. Then, after a pause: “But you’re here. And you’ve got it. And whether Val knows how deep it goes or not, she’s going to want to use it.”

The hallway feels smaller. The light colder.

You blink, trying to shake the weight. “So what do I do?”

He steps beside you, close enough to touch, but he doesn’t. He just leans slightly, his voice low.

“You stay sharp. You train harder. You don’t let her manipulate you or Bob.”

You nod again, and this time, it feels real. A little steadier.

You open your door, but before you go in, you pause.

“Bucky.”

He glances down at you.

“Thanks. For waiting.”

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. “Just don’t make me do it again.”

But he knows he will. You both do.

You can’t sleep.

How could you?

He hasn’t spoke since you touched Bob. But you can feel him– wrapped around your psyche like a vine with teeth, pricking you bit by bit until you bleed out.

You squirm– you toss and turn.

Then you throw your head back against your pillow at four o’clock in the morning.

“What do you want from me?”

The room doesn't answer. Not with sound.

But it pulses.

A breath in the walls. A shiver under the floorboards. Your lamp flickers once– enough to make you leap out of bed, but enough to remind you that you’re not alone in your head.

"You already know what I want."

You huff incredulously at that response, throwing your covers off as you sit up. You stare at the wall, wishing your gaze would just will him to appear so you can strangle him.

“No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

The voice isn’t like before. It’s quieter now. More curious than cruel. Still wrong, still other, but not as sharp as when it clawed through you on the mat with Bucky. Not as overwhelming as when it tried to pull you under through Bob’s fingertips.

It almost sounds like it’s… thinking.

"You let me in. You didn’t close the door."

Your palms dig into the sheets as you slide off your bed. You wrap your arms around yourself, staring at the window with a sigh.

“I didn’t mean to.”

"Doesn’t matter."

You exhale through your nose, steadying yourself.

That makes it laugh.

You glance toward the window. The sky’s beginning to soften from black to navy. Almost morning.

“Bob wouldn’t want you here.”

A pause.

"Bob doesn’t know what he wants. But he likes it when you touch him. He wants it– craves the connection. So do I."

Your breath catches.

“I’m not helping you.”

"You already are. Every time you touch him. You’re just giving me more ammunition and you know it."

You stand, crossing the room with shaking hands, to wander into your bathroom and splash water on your face. It’s cold, grounding. For a second.

“I want to help Bob.”

"And I am Bob."

You grip the sink tighter.

“No. You’re what’s left of him when people peel back everything that makes him good.”

That quiets the voice. For a while.

Just when you think it’s gone, it brushes your mind one last time—soft as breath, cold as fog.

"We’ll talk again soon."

And then it's gone.

The connection severs cleanly.

Like a door slamming shut.

Your knees nearly give out. You brace yourself on the counter, breathing like you just ran a mile. The silence is worse than the voice. Because now you know it's waiting.

You know it likes you.

You don’t expect to see him the next morning. Definitely not this soon.

But there he is, standing in the kitchen with two mugs in hand, like he’s been waiting for you.

“Hey.”

That easy grin. Bob’s grin. Not Sentry’s. Not the Void’s.

It stirs something in your chest.

“I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee,” he says, holding out one of the cups. “So I guessed. And if I’m wrong, feel free to pour it down the drain.”

You take it gently, carefully. But your fingers still brush his. You flinch, just barely.

He doesn’t notice it. Or if he does, he’s too polite to point it out.

He falls into step beside you easily as you walk, and it’s disarming how normal he is. No gold in his eyes. No stormcloud in his shadow. Just Bob, asking you about your favorite breakfast food, cracking dry jokes, nudging your elbow with a familiarity that shouldn’t feel this safe.

But it does. That’s the problem.

Because while he talks, while he smiles, something inside you tightens. Not because of Bob.

Because of him.

The one still watching. Still listening. Still waiting in the dark corners of your head.

You nod along, laugh where you should, but your grip stays tight on the mug, your pulse thudding louder in your ears than it should.

And when Bob asks, “you doing okay?” you almost fold.

But you lie.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

He stops in the middle of the hallway, and you stop with him. Your fingers tap your mug a couple of times, trying to shove your nerves down.

“Is it me? Did I make you tired?”

You hate the guilty look in his eyes, like a sad puppy dog that's been yipping a little bit too much.

“It’s not your fault, Bob. It just wears me out.”

He doesn’t move for a second. Just stands there looking at you, like he’s trying to see something beneath your skin. You know the look by now– It’s Bob, but it’s also not. It’s the part of him that remembers too much. That feels too much.

“I know that I… can be a lot.” He whispers reverently, taking a half-step closer to you. A smile graces his lips– not the awkward one he wears to fill the silence or make a moment less awkward. A real one. “I really appreciate you. I’m glad you were there yesterday.”

The words sting. They shouldn’t– but they do.

Not because they’re untrue, but because they’re too true. You felt it when he came back, that silent awe. The thankfulness. It was far too genuine for someone with the physical embodiment of darkness in their mind.

“You’re not a lot. You’re just… intense.”

His voice softens, so low it’s barely a breath. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

Your stomach twists. The coffee suddenly tastes too bitter.

“You’re part of the team,” you say automatically. “That’s why I’m here.”

Bob hums, noncommittal. He’s still staring, and you don’t like how close it makes you feel. How warm. How exposed. How wrong, when something else is still coiled inside you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

You look down. Your fingers are trembling around the mug. You didn’t even notice.

“I didn’t sleep much,” you lie again, hoarsely.

He nods, like he accepts that. But he doesn’t believe it.

He steps forward before you can stop him, reaching out like he’s going to touch your arm–then hesitates. Pulls back just an inch.

“Can I…? Or is it too much?”

Your heart thunders. Not because of him. Not just because of him.

But because the moment he touches you, it will know. The Void always knows.

You smile, brittle. “Another time, okay?”

Bob nods, stepping back, swallowing whatever words were behind his teeth.

You keep walking. You don’t look back. But you feel his gaze linger.

And when you pass by one of the reflective hallway panels, you swear–for half a second– don’t see just yourself walking.

You see something walking with you.

You try everything to sleep. Shower. Tea. Old music humming from your tablet speaker. You even open the window, let the rain slip through the screen, and cool your room until your skin prickles. Nothing helps.

You’re wide awake.

He’s closer tonight. The silence echoes in your room like cold laughter. You used to like the quiet in the dead of night, the way it felt like no one could bother you. But he’s invaded the one place you feel safe. Your mind.

It’s not just a voice, not really. It’s more like… pressure. Like a presence waiting just outside the edge of your mind. And tonight, he doesn’t wait to be invited in.

The lights flicker. Then dim.

You close your eyes, try to ignore it.

But the shadows don’t leave with your sight. They thicken.

And then you hear him.

“You let me in once.”

The words crawl down your spine like spider legs. You curl into yourself and groan.

“Stop.”

“You felt what it was like. You touched me first.”

You open your eyes, brows furrowing at something that’s not quite there. Every shadow takes on his form.

“You liked it.”

Your heart thunders. The wall across from your bed breathes. Just once. Inward. Like it’s expanding to make space for something bigger.

“Stop running, sweetheart. You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of what you’ll become if you stop fighting.”

“Please, just stop.”

You roll out of bed, moving to turn on one of the lamps– as if that will help.

The switch clicks, it turns, but it won’t work. You try two more times.

You huff in frustration, looking at the wall, as if it represents him.

“Seriously? Just for dramatic effect?” The air shifts, and it feels equivalent to a shrug.

“Fuck you, too.”

He chuckles. It’s low and smoky, like someone humming into your bones.

“Careful. You keep talking to me like that, and I might think you like it.”

You stiffen.

A breeze curls past your shoulder, inside your room. But the window’s closed, and the air doesn’t smell like rain anymore. It smells like metal and ash, like a candle that burned too long to be put out.

You swallow. “What do you want from me?”

“You. All of you.”

The floor creaks beneath your feet–except you didn’t move. Neither did the floorboards. It’s not sound. It’s sensation. Like the world itself is shifting underneath you.

“The part of you no one else understands. The piece that flinches when someone touches you too long. The edge in your voice when you pretend you’re not scared–”

You whip around suddenly, fingers curling around a shape. An arm– that was reaching for you.

Then you see it.

You see him.

The outline of his shape in the darkness– the light barely there. Two pinholes of light, staring right at you. You hate the way your stomach flips, curiosity crossing a threshold it wasn’t invited into.

You don’t scream.

You should, but you don’t.

Because the part of you that wants to live is tangled with the part that wants to know. What he really is. What it would feel like if you let him all the way in.

The two glowing eyes narrow, and the shape moves closer. Not walking–sliding. Like shadow poured into a body that never learned how to move like a man.

“There you are,” he says, quiet. Reverent. Like a lover finding you in a crowded room. You step back, and his arm moves with yours, phasing through your hand so he can grab you instead.

He’s cold. Not like metal or marble. Cold like a scream buried in snow.

You try to pull away.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “You’ll only make it hurt.”

Maybe you want it to.

You push that thought away immediately. But he already felt it. He’s already tore your psyche apart, bit by bit– piece by piece. He laughs again, less sinister, like he’s sincerely entertained by your game of mental table tennis.

“There it is again,” he whispers, like you’ve handed him a gift. “That sharp little ache in your chest. Like you want to be ruined but taken care of at the same time.”

Your breath catches as you twist your wrist in his hand. He doesn’t let go. He clamps down harder.

“Don’t worry,” he says, brushing a thumb over your pulse. “I’ll always ask first.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You don’t know if you’re more afraid of the words or the implication behind them.

“Why now?” you ask, voice raw. “Why are you doing this now?”

He leans in close, eyes glowing brighter as his mouth curls into a grin. His teeth are pearly white, one of the only discernible features of what represents his face.

“Because it’s so easy to get inside when you’re trying to save him. And yesterday?” His fingers tighten, just slightly. “You played god. Didn’t it feel good?”

You shake your head. You want to say no. But he’s in there already. Picking through every echo of that feeling you buried after bringing Bob back from the edge.

“It scared you. But it lit you up, too.” He breathes it against your skin. “That power. That closeness. You were mine for a second. And you liked it.”

You twist in his grasp, finally breaking free–but it’s like pulling yourself out of a freezing lake. You’re soaked in something invisible. Heavy with it.

“You don’t own me,” you hiss, stepping back.

He grins. Bright. Terrible.

“No,” he agrees, tilting his head. “I never wanted to.”

And then–

A slam down the hall.

Bootsteps.

The Void fades so fast you nearly topple forward.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice. Sharp. Right outside. “Are you alone?”

You look at the door. Then, at your shaking hands.

You don’t know how to answer.

Your feet are carrying you to the door before you can stop them. You press the button to open your door, and the hydraulics hiss softly as the metal slides into place.

He sees it in your face before you even say a word. Your eyes are bloodshot, wide, and frantic as you search for some sort of explanation.

He stares at your wrist. It’s red. Angry.

“I let it in.”

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds fanfic #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #afab reader #mcu fanfiction #the void x reader #sentry x reader

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kermitcasanovaspamz · 2 days ago

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a.o iii

[it's been more than a year since i last posted, my bad, anyways you already know, take what resonates, leave what doesn't]

SYNASTRY EDITION

vertex conjunct the nn: i will speak from experience, not a simple relationship (romantic or otherwise). i wouldn't necessarily call it difficult nor easy, it's a conjunction so it has its moments when it's ✨conjuncting✨. i would say that you can feel like you've met a soulmate or, at least, someone really important. if you're psychic in any way, you could have dreams, dejà vu, hear things, etc.

for whoever wants to read this: i've experienced a nn conjunction to saturn & jupiter & vertex & asteroid amor (respectively the orbs are 3º, 2º, 0º and 1º) synastry. and i mean one person with all these conjunctions 💀 to my nn. funny thing is, this person has their mars conjunct my sn (1º orb), like damn, that's crazy.

moon square mercury: y'all... be extremely cautious no matter your feelings and how good the relationship is. there will inevitably be issues in life (whether in yours, the other's or both simultaneously), so unless you are prepared for nonstop misunderstandings and things escalating without intending to, don't do it. it takes a lot of maturity, self-awareness and willingness to grow, to work on this kind of relationship. especially if there's a mercury retrograde involved in the birth chart. one person tends to take everything personally (tipically moon) and the other (mercury tipically) doesn't really know how to communicate in a way that doesn't hurt or trigger the other person. harsh aspects can be amazing, because when you work on them, the rewards are palpable and the relationship will be strengthened, but that doesn't make it easy, therefore use your discernment, because if only one side is trying to change/communicate it's not going to work out.

10h overlays: i'll keep it general and positive, because this kind of synastry can be sour and really destructive on the other side of the coin, BUT when it's good, it can be so nice. the house individual can really look up to and admire the planet person, sometimes leading to putting them on a pedestal, so remember just as hannah montana said "nobody's perfect". the house person can feel motivated to do and be better when around the planet person. also, may want to provide for them, like as in gifts (but not only haha).

speaking of which, if your venus is in the 10h of somebody else, you may be the person they'll see as "the one that got away" or the ex that will live rent free in their mind. not necessarily because they loved you more than anybody else (could be, depends on other things obvi) but probably because you were their "ideal".

better to have venus in the 10h than lilith aspects (especially) to a straight man's personal placements. sure they'll never forget you, but most likely you will be the bird they want to keep in a cage forever. love and appreciate your freedom, leave the mf. bro may marry you, but that doesn't mean he'll treat you right (i am obviously talking about the immature and cruel men).

2h synastry... chef's kisses fr (when good). you will be comfy as hell with this person, probably a lot of gift giving involved, netflix & chill energy. being at home is never boring, it may be monotous, but it really feels like magic. comfort, reliability and appreciation to summarize. amazing synastry if you enjoy feeling safe and taken care of (usually it goes both ways).

i may do composite observations next (after i finish my exams 😭).

-beatrix casanova

#astrology observations #astro observations #astrology #synastry

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kisakis-boyfriend · 2 days ago

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Hello can I have a Bennett x top reader alphabet. Thank you and happy 3000

Author's Note: Of course! It's been a hot minute since I wrote anything with our wonderful adventurer 🧡 — Bennett is 20+ here

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Bennett is such a sweetie with aftercare, he frets over you a little much sometimes, but how can you get upset at him? At those big green eyes? 🥺

He cradles your face in his warm hands and asks all of these silly but sweet questions; “Was it good? Was I good? Do you need water? A snack? Are you tired? You're panting, do you need some fresh air? I love you, please let me take care of you! 🥺🥺🥺” PLEASE HE'S TOO ADORABLE 😭

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't think he would really have a favorite part of himself? It's not that he hates his body or anything, Bennett just doesn't think about his own skin too much to have a favorite. Nothing particularly sticks out to him.

Bennett is fond of your back and legs. He likes watching the muscles flex when you do literally anything and those parts of your body are exposed lol.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Fun little headcanon: prostate orgasms are a bit silly because they make Bennett resemble a fountain being turned on and off. Every thrust causes him to cum for a second, so he's shooting a bunch of tiny spurts of cum until his orgasm is over.

The first time he even experienced a prostate orgasm, he came so much that it honestly scared him… he was so concerned with how much cum had just come out of his body that he freaked out and asked if he should see a doctor 😅

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Bennett really enjoys being pinned down… like, really, really enjoys it 🥴

Holding his wrists above his head while you tease his neck with your breath and lips, causing Bennett to shy away with a whimper. You tilt his face back to where it was, kissing his soft lips before sliding a hand under his shirt, rubbing circles on the skin, and he squirms at your every touch.

Holding Bennett down by the hips, his hands grasping at your wrists as he whines and pictures what kinds of activities you're about to engage in. His pretty hair gets tangled in between your fingers, held just tight enough to prevent him from turning away, forced to show you his expression when you press your bulge against his, still concealed within his and your pants, respectively.

Holding him down by the neck, chest pressed into the mattress and hips raised high on display, his cock twitching at every stroke against his plush inner thighs. You kiss his shoulder before dipping a finger in his hole, preparing him for a night that he won't soon forget~

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I don't think he would have tons of experience, mainly because he never thought much about sex when he was young and busy with Benny's adventure team, but maybe when he got a little older, he might have fooled around with a few people.

You can tell that he's inexperienced, but your first time, and every time after that, is quite lovely. He's great at going with the flow and finding what works in the moment vs what doesn't work for you two.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

Pinned down in any way, held close in any way, but other than that he's not partial to any specific position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I feel like Bennett would be a mix of intentionally silly and unintentionally. Like, occasionally he will goof around and make you laugh at something, and other times he'll say something that wasn't an intentional joke, but it makes one or both of you laugh anyway 😅

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Bennett tries to trim himself, but he's pretty clumsy and ends up with a lot of tiny cuts and irritated skin… please talk him into not shaving, let his bush flourish!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He's so sweet and romantic! The kind of sweetie pie who asks if you can hold hands while you're pounding into him like an animal. Bennett is so full of love that it spills into every facet of his life, sex very much included.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Not something he does every day, necessarily, but I still say he's a frequent masturbator. You'll catch him jerking off at random moments, too distracted to finish a chore so he just pleasures himself instead.

Thanks to his pyro vision, Bennett's body heats up quickly, and it takes a long time for him to cool down. When he masturbates, he always gets so sweaty and flushed, and he feels like he needs a shower after every session 😭

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Being blindfolded and slight somnophilia 👀

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Out in nature, actually. Sliding it inside while you're helping him with a commission is always expected, and Bennett will be disappointed if you finish your day's work without at least a tiny bit of fun in the sun…

He also enjoys shower sex — you're extra careful though, because with the added risk of his bad luck, you're afraid of slipping and hurting yourselves badly…

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you work out/seeing you in your element. In Bennett's eyes, you've always been the coolest dude, he just adores watching you do your thing, maybe even flex a little. The way your body moves when you fight, it's just one of his favorite things to see. Your intelligence and quick wit is also something Bennett enjoys seeing in action.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hard degradation is something I don't think he would like. Praise is more Bennett's style.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

No real preference, both are delightful experiences for him.

Bennett makes the cutest noises when he's deepthroating your cock… my god. His gag reflex isn't bad, so he can take it pretty deep with little issue, and the gagging sounds you can get him to make?! 😍

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, both are delightful~ Typically though, Bennett likes it a tad bit rougher.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies aren't bad, in fact, Bennett doesn't mind them at all. However, he may crave more later that day, so just be prepared.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Usually, yes. Trying new things is something he enjoys very much, and that applies to sexual activities too. He is an adventurer, after all!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

At least two rounds, and the rounds themselves can last for a while. Bennett has great endurance, and he loves getting to experience something so intimate together, so he's willing to keep going as long as you are!

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I do think Bennett would enjoy using toys actually! Something to spice up the fun times? Count him in!

While he is embarrassed about this, he really likes watching your cock slide in and out of a fleshlight… especially if it's clear or one that your cock goes all the way through 😳

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bennett may tease you from time to time, but he's the farthest from a brat that a man can get. His teasing is often things like: grinding down on your dick, telling you something along the lines of "come and get it/come take what's yours" whilst spreading his legs or cheeks, and putting your hand in his lap while you're lazing around.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He moans A LOT, but the moans themselves aren't super loud. It's just that Bennett doesn't stop making noise 😅

Lots of giggles, whining or whimpering when he's close to orgasm, and babbling your praises or how amazing it feels.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

So, I mentioned that he would be into somnophilia earlier 👀

Bennett gives you permission to fuck him if you wake up horny in the morning, or if you don't go home together/don't work together during the day, and you need his holes late at night.

You have his body all to yourself, as long as you promise to cuddle with him once you're finished 🧡

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's a good 5 inches, uncut. There are various scars and moles all over his body, but especially so around his pelvic area.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's a little high, if I'm being honest. Some of which is simply because you're good at what you do, but some of it is also a naturally higher libido. (And perhaps some of it can be attributed to his pyro affinity…)

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I'd say Bennett can stay awake fairly easily. It takes a lot to genuinely tire him out. Hell, even marathon sex probably wouldn't be enough to cause him to fall asleep, even if he is exhausted and limp.

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radiohao · 2 days ago

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princess treatment with nct wish (but it's stupid)

pairings: nct wish hyung line x f!reader

warnings: jokes abt hitting someone, fluff, crack, pinching riku's ear bc he's loud as hell

wc: 671 (haha six seeven)

oh sion:

SPRINTS to any door while cackling like a maniac because he knows you get embarrassed when he opens doors for you

"m'lady," he says while tipping an imaginary hat, trying SO HARD not to laugh

"oh sion, i'm going to smACK you across the head."

holds all your purses and bags for you and pretends like they're dumbbells, lifting them up while unnecessarily shaking

"babe, make sure to spot me!" his biceps are flexing as if the bags are heavy... and did some sweat just roll down his temple??

"let's go HOME, sion."

"no, wait! just four more reps!'

"H O M E."

"I NEED TO BEAT MY PR!!!"

what a drama queen oh my god

you pretend you don't know him in public

boyfriend? you don't have one

always keeps an extra pair of footwear in his car just in case your feet start hurting, but sometimes he forgets so instead he piggybacks you

"don't worry babe, i always come prepared!" he opens the trunk of his car and there are no shoes in sight

"...well not today bUT i can just carry you!" he says proudly, but the sheepish smile on his face gives him away

"it's okay babe, i'll just go barefoot" you suggest

"what? NO! yOU CANT WHAT IF SOMETHING PRICKS YOUR FOOT-"

"we'll be walking on sand, sion."

"nonono, i'll carry you. i insist."

"we can't enjoy a stroll along the beach when you have to carry my weight on your back" you deadpan

"who said we can't?"

you sigh, but the smile on your face betrays you anyway

turns out he was right, you can enjoy walks on the beach even while sion piggybacks you

maeda riku

kisses the back of your hand before a date like you're a disney princess

"you look absolutely dashing tonight, my love," he coos while he presses kisses to your knuckles

"okay, prince charming," you say with a laugh

makes you link arms with him when out in public

he's literally TERRIFIED to lose you in the crowd even though you're grown

when you let go his breaths get short and he starts sweating and he feels like he's getting pale

but in reality you're literally in the next aisle like girl bye

"honey??? WHERE'D YOU GO??? HONEEYY-"

"MAEDA RIKU STOP SCREAMING!!"

"PRINCESS WHERE ARE YOU COME BACK!!?!!?"

you RUN to the aisle where riku is and pinch his ear before linking your arm with his

"oh, there you are."

"i'm never coming to this store again, they're gonna think i have a crazy ass boyfriend."

ties your shoes for you all the time. and i mean ALL the time.

"baby wait, your shoes are untied."

"huh? but i'm wearing heels?" you question

he kneels down and literally ties imaginary shoelaces

keep in mind this is all in a public server

you grAB riku's arm and pull him up

"you just love embarrassing me, don't you?"

he gives you the signature grandpa laugh and you can't help but laugh back

"always."

tokuno yushi

pays for everything no matter how stupidly low or high the price is

"allow me," yushi says as he pulls out his card

"...these are floss picks? that are 3 bucks????"

"allow me." he repeats

"oh my god- i literally have my card out already-" you push his arm and begin to insert your card into the reader

ur bf basically SNATCHES it out without saying a word and puts his own card in

"doesn't matter, i'm paying anyway."

lets you decorate all his things

ALL his things

one day he goes to brush his teeth

um why does his toothbrush have stickers on them??

"love? did you put these on here?"

"noooo..." you say while holding the sticker sheet behind you

he laughs and rolls his eyes playfully

"it's cute. i like it. it's cute."

"you said 'it's cute' twice."

"i take it back, it's hideous."

has a lot of your frequently used products on hand

"crap, i forgot my dry shampoo!" he shoves the mini dry shampoo bottle into your face

"oh! thanks, baby. what the hell? where did my brush go-"

"here." "thank you! ugh, you're an angel. i keep losing my stuff!"

he totally does NOT take your essentials out of your bag so he can be the one to provide

haha that would be weird

(yushi took it all out before you left the house)

author's note: WOOO HAPPY 10 FOLLOWERS EVERYONE 🥳🥳🥳🥳 thank you for all the love on my other posts i cannot believe the amount of likes i'm getting!! again, please feel free to send requestsss!! like or reblog if you enjoyed! i love you all soooo much and have a good night! :))

#nct wish #nct wish imagines #nct wish x reader #tokuno yushi #fluff #maeda riku #oh sion #sion fluff #riku fluff #yushi fluff #x reader #fanfic #kpop #nct wish scenarios #nct wish drabbles

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hisbelfastboy · 21 hours ago

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just kill me it would literally hurt less than this 😭😭 - @eoinmcgonigall

No but listen, I've been thinking about Paddy and his relation to touch non-stop for days and now you've given me the perfect excuse to talk about it? I love you <3 (Tags were from this post)

One thing that struck me most with Paddy/Eoin is how often Eoin reaches out for Paddy (ie. lightly tapping his shin when Eoin gets back to their tent) but most importantly, Eoin ALWAYS squeezes before withdrawing the contact, almost like he's preparing himself, or Paddy, or both, to lose this connection. But also, I'm a firm believer that Eoin was as much in love with Paddy as Paddy was with him, and that was his own little indulgence (and what a rush it must give him, being the only one allowed to touch Paddy in a way that isn't a punch or marked by violence). And the touch is always so tender, lingering, this is (to me) Eoin threading the line between what's acceptable between two best friends and what raises eyebrows. He always drags the touch a little longer, always touches Paddy even if the situation doesn't call for it.

On the other hand, Paddy touches Eoin almost only when there's an 'excuse' for it, like steadying himself on Eoin shoulder to play the piano while standing (gif 1). The one time the situation doesn't call for touch but Paddy touches Eoin anyway is in prison (gif 2), and it's such an awkward little pat, almost like Paddy knows he doesn't have an excuse to hide behind beyond wanting to touch Eoin and is trying so hard not to reach for more (and!! he drags his palm over Eoin's hand as he takes his hand away!! Repressed Paddy, I love you so)

But back to the way Paddy reacts to Eoin's touch; he never outwardly reacts to it. In fact, he never (except for the jail scene) watches Eoin i those scenes, always keeping his eyes in front of him and carrying on whatever he was doing. In the plane, before the jump, that can be explained; he's focused (gif 2). But in the scene where he's eating soup (gif 3), I can't help but feel like he's making a point not to look at Eoin as the touch is made, almost like when someone who doesn't usually give physical affection lays their head on your shoulder and you stay still so you don't bring attention to it and they withdraw. Now, Eoin is rather free in his affections with Paddy, so my theory is that Paddy makes a point not to bring attention to the touches so Eoin doesn't withdraw, but Paddy is soaking in every touch. Maybe this is their silent understanding, that they're Friends but friends don't usually touch like that but They do, because they're Paddy&Eoin. Maybe he's come to associate Eoin with these friendly, if lingering touches. A beacon of affection when the only other people who ever touch Paddy are the people he's fighting/boxing with/MPs arresting him

Anyway to me, this purports my hc that both Paddy and Eoin were in love with each other but neither of them dared to confess. I think Eoin was comfortable/aware of his feelings, but he wasn't sure how that was with Paddy so, not wanting to push Paddy, he was happy to indulge in those touches, making them linger because if that's all he was going to get, he was going to make the most of it. On the other hand, Paddy strikes me more as repressed - not so much in being gay (see the poem he recites in his first jail scene + the signet ring) but in his feelings for Eoin, only finding the strength to confront them once Eoin's gone, because what is there left of Eoin if not the love Paddy has for him? (These are all personal hc, of course, I'm not preaching lmao)

Which brings me to my point: the last time Paddy touches Eoin is when Eoin can't feel it anymore. The only time Paddy finds the courage to hold Eoin's hand is when Eoin is no longer alive to return the hold. And, if memory serves, that's the last time anyone touches Paddy in season 1 (though I could be wrong, it is the last time there is any close-up on touch and Paddy, except for the fighting in the sand scene with Augustin). But Paddy is definitely isolated once Eoin dies - by choice, as shown by the fact that his tent is outside the main camp of Jalo.

* and ** For some reason, the technique I used to properly link specific gifs from a gifset stopped working midway despite the different links BUT gif 2 is from the same gifset as gif 1, and gif 4 is by @loo-nuh-tik in this gifset. If anyone knows why tumblr only showed the first gif of the gifset despite manually putting the link to another one and tumblr showing the new link but not a different gif, please do tell me so I can properly credit the OP

Now season 2; as far as I recall, there are only three persons who dare to reach out and touch Paddy in non-fighting situations, Bill Stirling (gif 1 and 2*), Jim Almonds (gif 3) and Eve (gif 4**) (excluding the barber and Montgomery fixing his beret, even if in that one it was Paddy was Not Comfortable). All three times (although honorable mentions to every time Bill Stirling pats Paddy's shoulder/back, even if it's quick, it's ALWAYS deliberate), Paddy freezes for a millisecond, looking slowly down at the touch like he's trying to make sense of it, if he should allow it, what the touch means, and how long has nobody laid a hand on him without wanting to hurt him? Should he shake it off?

Let's remember that season 2 starts in 1943, almost a year and a half after Eoin's death. That's a LONG time to go without any meaningful touch; Paddy is someone who likes his personal space, who's uncomfortable when people reach into his space (you know how sometimes, if someone touches you it makes you tense up because they aren't some of the Special People you've mentally allowed to touch you?) but he ALWAYS let Eoin into his space. And then, there was no more Eoin, and few people daring to reach out (and the few who do are people who genuinely care about Paddy). And even during his home leave, he did not go see his mother, did not hug her or his siblings, even though it could have been the first time he saw them since at least 1941, and since his father's death (do you ever think about how he had no one to comfort him, to hold his hand and give him a hug when his dad, whom he clearly loved, died? I do and it's not fun).

Anyway, my heart breaks for him

#paddy x eoin #paddon #sasrh #paddy mayne #sas rogue heroes #ali's musings #he makes me INSANE #I just want to give him a hug PLEASE #ali's mail

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beentobeetle · 2 days ago

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MATVEY LORE DUMP TIME ❗️❗️❗️❗️

Matvey Peter Gayle was born into the streets of New York City to a single mother by the name Natalia in 1899. Raised by other hobos and wanderers, Matvey grew up quick, mean and sharp. In 1907, his mother passed away due to illness, leaving Matvey on his own to be brought up by whoever was willing to let him tag along.

Unfortunately for Matvey, he turned 18 just in time to be tossed into the Great War, spending the first 2 years of his ‘free life’ under fire and cornered in trenches. Somehow, he made it through with only a few bullet grazes on his leg, and a couple new deep-seated fears ingrained in his head.

1920 comes to be an interesting year. In the winter, only a few days before Christmas, Matvey is mistaken for a rat of a local big-time speakeasy. The old owner of the place, thinking Matvey spilled on the location of his place and got it shut down, sends some workers on Matvey, beating him in an alleyway until his subsequently. erm. dies.

But, of course, that doesn’t exactly work out. Cold, bloody, and starving, Matvey assumes this is his end — and it’s one he’d honestly been looking for. He wanted to go in the mud — it’s where he was born, anyways, so it only felt right. But there’s a reason he’d survived for so long.

Shub-Niggurath herself, an old God Matvey had so little knowledge of, had been taking pity on him for years, since his very birth. So, now, when he truly needs her most, she reveals herself to him, giving him a blessing of life, and imbuing a small part of herself within his soul. He wakes up, believing it all to be a dream — and, suddenly, his past feels very faint, and very very far behind him.

With this newfound drive, Matvey decides enough is enough. He moves to Arkham in 1921, making friends with a man named Eddie, who helps him in getting a job as a mechanic — even taking it upon himself to get Matvey the knowledge and skill he requires.

Along with this, Matvey begins a small side-gig as a private reporter, taking note of all the strange happenings within Arkham, pushing for interviews with those he believes deserves to have their voices heard, and doing what he can to give a hand to those around him. He knows what life can be like — how truly unbearable and hard things can be — and he’d rather not have a hand in that.

By 1934, Matvey has made plenty a name for himself in Arkham. He’s well liked, well trusted, and moderately well known. It can’t all last for very long, though. Eddie and one Peter Yang are found dead in an office building, both supposedly murdered by a man named Arthur Lester. No one’s sure what to do — so Matvey makes a decision.

He sets off to find Arthur, determined to bring justice for Eddie, Parker, and all those in Arkham — what Matvey wasn’t prepared for was the absolute SHIT SHOW of a trail Mr. Lester seems to be leaving behind. Much less the cults, and The Horrors, and the PTSD, and —

Ok I hope this makes sense heehee uhhh I feel like there’s more but I can’t think of anything rn … ask questions if you have any teehee ok bye

#art #my art #sketch #fanart #beento talks #matvey gayle #malevolent oc #malevolent #malevolent podcast

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fictionaltrvlr · 1 day ago

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AITA for trying to save my friends’ life?

I know the title might make this seem obvious, but apparently everyone is mad at me.

I (30M) have these two coworkers who have become friends, let’s call them L (26M) and J (26F). Anonymous post since I work for the government.

Anyway, I’ve worked with J and L for roughly six months. They’re pretty nerdy and awkward, so I thought I’d be nice and try to be friendly with them. I don’t understand most of what they say and they’re honestly really annoying, so this was a very charitable gesture on my part. Since they’re highly intelligent, the relationship does have certain benefits in the field.

On to the issue at hand. As I mentioned, I work for the government. So my SO (supervising officer) informed me of a covert operation that was of immediate importance and I was assigned to go undercover with J and L since their branch was under investigation.

At the end of the assignment we’re meant to cut ties completely, which I was prepared for. However, as it progressed it became evident that my SO expected me to terminate these agents. I’m trying to be vague as this is all highly sensitive, you understand.

But I’d become rather attached to J and L, they really are like awkward little lizards you keep around to add ambience, and I thought they could be valuable in the future. The idea of killing them was not appealing.

So, I made a very, in my opinion, logical choice to do what I could to save their lives. Instead of shooting them in the head as I was expected to do, I jettisoned them out of an airlock in a containment pod over the ocean.

I know that might sound bad, but as I mentioned they are incredibly intelligent and could plausibly find a way to escape (which, to be clear, they DID). I think this was an admirably ingenious decision, since I’d be clear with my SO as no regular person could have survived this, but also clear by J and L since I gave them a chance.

But now my SO is angry with me and insisting that I should have personally finished the job, plus I’ve heard through my contacts that J and L are “furious” with me and feel “betrayed?” Which seems very clearly irrational to me since I saved their lives.

So, AITA for saving my friends’ life and completing my assignment?

Edit: Yes, I suppose this could be construed as “attempted murder,” but the whole thing is that they SURVIVED as I knew they would.

Edit: Okay guys, stop attacking me. If you lack reading comprehension, just say that. I SAVED THEIR LIVES because they definitely would have died if I hadn’t done what I did. And I don’t know where some of you got this idea that I’m in Hydra, because I’m not. But even if I was, that doesn’t make me a Nazi. I swear, you’re all so dramatic. Like watch the news?? SHIELD were the terrorists, and Hydra was only briefly associated with Nazis in the 1940s. But this is all besides the point! I kept this anonymous for a reason. You know doxxing is a crime right?? Which I know because I’m a government agent, okay?? Do you understand the concept of a low profile? Obviously i can’t tell you what branch of government I’m in, but I’m not Hydra. Calm down.

Edit: Also! I was literally abused as a child, okay? So maybe I’m not great at forming friendships, but it’s not my fault. My brother gave me some profound trust issues and this is NOT helping. And I have, like, PTSD from all the incredibly confidential cases I’ve been involved in. You know you’re basically attacking a veteran, right? You should be thanking me for everything I’ve done for this country. It’s actually really ableist. And this is not a platform for all your Hydra conspiracy theories okay? You’re completely derailing my original post with irrelevant speculation.

Edit: You can stop now! I get it. You think I’m the asshole. Whatever. And I am not “crashing out,” okay? As if I care about the opinions of a bunch of teenagers on Reddit. And that’s what it is: and opinion!! That doesn’t make you right. I’m deleting this.

#is this accurate? it feels accurate lmao #grant ward #aita #jemma simmons #leo fitz #agents of shield #aitah #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#fitzsimmons #am i the asshole #my incorrect quotes :)

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tiki-was-here · 3 days ago

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Garden of Flesh

Homelander x Genderfluid Supe Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Cw: Suicidal thoughts

images by diana-foggy-master

yeah i dont know how what was essentially a crack pregnancy fic evolved to this (this is essentially just a little backstory to the reader and Homelanders relationship)

Anyways the reader has powers that are like Atom Eve but only with organic substances, so plants and animals and humans. This coupled with working for Vought obviously gave them some major issues and they are now very lonely and very very mentally unwell.

There were few places left in the world where you could disappear without leaving a trace. Fewer still where people wouldn’t ask questions about the strange way your hair seemed to change color within the second, or how you always looked just slightly different from when they last saw you, no matter how long it’d been.

The forest had always welcomed you, though. Trees didn’t ask questions and moss didn’t care who you used to be. And if your body melted into the bark of a willow when the wind carried drones overhead, well—that was no one’s business but yours.

After years working for Vought under Witness Protection, writing fake identities and changing your face every few months, disappearing was second nature. You used to handle most of the company’s off-the-books relocations—whistleblowers, compromised assets, ex-supes trying to retire. You’d build them a new life and make their bodies match it. Eyes, bone structure, fingerprints, blood types. All organic.

But despite your efforts they just kept pushing. Asking of you things that anyone who isn't a God should even think about.

You’d known since you were a child that humans were ever curious about the ways man could die, the ways they could suffer…but you refused to play God.

So you ran.

It didn’t surprise you when they sent someone after you. You just didn’t expect them to send him.

The sky cracked open above the treeline with a sonic pop, and the pine needles around you flattened in the invisible quake of displaced air. Birds screamed and scattered. You didn’t move, not even when the golden-red blur stilled above the clearing.You’d seen him on more posters than you could count, but nothing prepared you for the gravity of him in person. The smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The inhuman steadiness of his gaze.

.“There you are,” he said. “Didn’t even leave a trail. That was impressive.”

You didn’t move. “I’m not interested in fighting you.”

“Well, that’s great. You can make this easy for both of us then. Just come with me.”

You raised your hand. Before he could blink, you forced every muscle in his body to lock up. His arms froze in place. His legs wouldn’t move. You felt the pull in your chest as you did it—like a second heartbeat syncing with his.

It was the kind of touchless puppeteering that turned your stomach. But you had no intention to tear him apart. You just held him there. Limbs locked in midair. Eyes widened, furious, confused.

“What the fuck—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you said, and your voice stayed steady despite the churn in your gut. “I’d never do that.”

He struggled against your grip, but it was a waste of energy. He didn’t understand what was happening—not yet. You held him perfectly still, his body suspended midair by invisible threads woven through nerves and muscle. His heart was beating faster, harder. If you wanted to, you could slow it down. Stop it. But you didn’t.

“You wanted to find me,” you said, your voice calm. “Well, now you have.”

He stared. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything ready to say.

“Are you here to bring me in?” you asked.

Still he said nothing, his mouth tight, jaw clenched.

“Vought probably told you that I went rogue. That I’m dangerous. But you don’t know why. Do you?”

“You are dangerous,” he said finally.

You laughed once, humorless. “Did you even read my file? Or did you just fly around fantasizing about how you’d kill me when you found me?” You stepped toward him, never once breaking eye contact.

“You strike me as the kind of guy who likes to take his time. Maybe tear me apart limb by limb? Probably have me on my knees, begging you to let me live… only to finish me off anyway, just for fun.”

He barked, “Is that what you want from me now? Hate to break it to you, but I don’t beg. You should put me down before I actually decide to take my time killing you.”

You watched his jaw flex, the muscle in his neck tightening, his whole body looking like it was seconds away from exploding.

You exhaled slowly, eyes shifting to the shaded grove behind you. The tree trunks bent slightly, almost imperceptibly, almost as if they were waiting for a command.

“I don’t hurt people,” you said, voice quieter now. “Not unless I have to, I mean... And even then, I regret it. That’s not the kind of person I want to be.”

“So what now? You gonna keep me frozen like this?”

“No,” you said. “I want you to stay with me. Just for tonight. For dinner, at least. It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to talk to, and I figure I shouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste.”

His expression shifted into something unreadable. Disbelief, maybe. Or maybe something closer to disgust. Either way you moved in closer, enough to make his breath hitch.

“I can reshape your face,” you told him. “Bones, muscles, DNA—every organic layer. I can make you unrecognizable, even to Vought’s best tech. Let me do that, and in exchange, you get to kill me. However you want, it doesn’t matter. Just give me one night. That’s all I’m asking.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would I agree to that?”

You stared at him without blinking. “Because I could stop your heart right now. And I haven’t.”

He looked away,breathing heavy, but said nothing. You took a careful step forward and lifted your hand toward his face.

“Don’t move,” you said.(not that he could anyways lol) Your power required precision. One wrong thought, one flicker of emotion, and things could spiral out of control.

Your fingers reached out and touched his temple. His skin was warm but you tried your best to focus on changing the layers beneath—adjusting the bone structure, thickening the cartilage in his nose, flattening his cheekbones, shortening his jaw. You shifted the color of his hair strand by strand, rewrote the pigment in his irises.

When you stepped back, the man in front of you didn’t look like Homelander anymore. Yes he was still the same height, still had that air of confidence that only someone like him could exude. But the face was wrong in all the right ways.

He looked at you with a shudder. “It feels like my face is wearing another face,” he said.

“Good,” you replied. “Now let’s get going.”

You drove into town in an old truck. He sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, clearly hating every second of this.But he didn’t say anything.

You stopped at a roadside diner. It was the kind of place that hadn’t been updated since the 80s—grimy tables, cracked vinyl booths, and a waitress who looked like she couldn't care less about who walked through the door as long as they were paying.

It was perfect.

You sat across from each other in a corner booth. You ordered pancakes for yourself and got him eggs and bacon without asking. He stared at the plate like it had insulted him personally.

He didn’t eat. Didn’t talk either. Just kept looking at you with that unreadable expression while you rambled on about whatever came to your mind. Nothing that mattered really. You didn’t even know why you kept talking, but you couldn’t stop. Maybe it was because you’d already decided this was your last night. Maybe it’d been too long since you’d shared a moment with another living soul, forced or not.

–

That night, you took him back to your cabin. You reversed the changes you’d made carefully, referencing old footage and photos to get it exactly right before you headed to bed. He looked irritated through the whole process and refused to take the couch without some snide remarks about how it was “beneath him,” but you insisted. You needed the bed more (it was your last night after all). And despite the grumbling, he had no choice but to take it.

You didn’t release his muscles even when your head hit the pillow, keeping just enough tension in his limbs to stop him from attacking you right then and there. Even then, you laid awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and wondering if, by some miracle, you’d wake up somewhere better. Somewhere that could soothe the ever present gnawing at your heart.

But when the morning light slipped in through the windows,you were still there and the couch was empty.

You stepped outside and saw it immediately—a crater in the ground just beyond the trees.. The bastard had flown off. You stood there barefoot, heart pounding, staring at the empty sky.

Having no way of knowing if he’d be back.

#what is proofreading?#i have no idea #𐌕𐌉𐌊𐌉 ᯓᡣ𐭩 #male reader #the boys x male reader #x male reader #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #the boys x reader #the boys #top male reader

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j-eryewrites · 1 day ago

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Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Chapter Six of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: ~6.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS?, mentions of childhood trauma, language, mentions of Pepper and Morgan, Bucky acts like a dad/concerned uncle(let me know if I missed anything)

Author's Note: Went on a trip for my birthday and finally got back, so sorry for the late chapter. I'm hoping to at least post once a week. Anyways, this chapter is a fun one, and the beginning to the speculating (basically, I get to make stuff up, so yay!) The team gets food and finds a place to crash for the day, more Bob and Reader moments...I hope you enjoy!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The restaurant was practically empty besides the seven of you in the wake of the Void incident, yet if you were to close your eyes, it’d be just as loud as rush hour, when everyone trickled in from their lunch breaks with the time clicking until they returned to work. Beside you, Alexei was chewing. His mouth was wide open, letting more food fall onto his plate than what was actually swallowed down his throat. He was chipper, even though you all had risked your lives, nearly died numerous times, and had been up for more days than were healthy. Still, he loudly jumped from conversational topics, starting with his disdain for the Avengers title, saying he liked the Thunderbolts more, then somehow ended up telling everyone the story of an after-mission party in Russia. You were glad there were no children in the restaurant due to the lewd direction Alexei’s story was taking. You were hardly paying attention, instead watching Walker’s face contort as he tried to swallow his next bite of food. Watching, you tried to hide your snicker as John gagged on a bite of his food at Alexei’s next words.

“Oh no,” Yelena groaned into her hand. Her fingers dragged down her face, elongating her embarrassed expression. “No, no, Alexei,” she called out. “No one wants to hear about that as we eat.”

“Yelena,” Alexei exasperated, throwing his arms up into the air, shooting bits of food at all of you. Flinching, you narrowly missed the chunk of lettuce coming your way. “It’s natural. You feel the glory of the battle and want to share success with others. Huh?” His eyes widened with enthusiasm, seeking agreement from the men at the table. Walker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether to encourage the man. Meanwhile, Bucky waved his hand dismissing the notion entirely, which left Bob; And Alexei singled out poor Bob. With a clap, Alexei patted Bob’s back, wiggling his brows. In turn, Bob arched his back, wriggling out of Alexei’s hold. “You understand Bob. I see in eyes.”

“I-uh-I don’t-sure?” Bob managed to stammer out. His eyes fell on you for an escape, to which you simply shrugged, not wanting to be a part of this. An action Alexei didn’t miss.

“See!” Alexei stood up triumphantly. A smirk appeared on his face in a not-so-whisper, and he leaned into Bob. “Let me guess, you share success today with–”

“Dad!” Yelena pleaded. “Can you stop?” Alexei’s face fell at his daughter's words.

“I thought it was never going to end,” Ava muttered under her breath before taking a sip of her soda.

“Tell me about it,” Walker added.

By now, there was no sign of any staff members. You didn’t blame them for making themselves scarce. However, it didn’t take long for Alexei to bring up another story to share with the others. This time, more PG-friendly.

“Pst,” Bucky called out to you, stopping you mid-bite. He nudged his head, asking you to follow him. If the others noticed you two leaving, they made no note of it. Walking to the corner by the bathrooms, Bucky stopped you with a firm expression printed onto his face. You knew that look well. It’s one that you've had a plethora of experience with, seeing it from Tony, occasionally Steve, and the others. You cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest to prepare for the upcoming reprimand. “Now that we have a chance, care to explain your involvement with the…,” Bucky motioned to the others at the table, “Bob ordeal?”

“Bucky–” you sighed, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“You said you were going to get evidence–”

“Which I did,” you interjected. Bucky’s eyebrows raised at your words. “Look, can we talk about this later, cause I’m-”

“No, Y/N. We won’t talk about this later. You know why?” His hands were resting at his hips now. You rolled your eyes at him, glancing back at the table as Yelena and Ava snickered at Walker choking on his food again. Bucky cleared his throat, awaiting an answer from you. You grumbled a “why,” allowing Bucky to continue his scolding.

“Because you nearly got yourself killed, and from what the others told me, at least three times. One of which I witnessed.” You winced as each word left Bucky’s mouth. You understood his concern, but you were no longer the kid who ran and hid with Steve and Bucky all those years ago. You were an adult and had been for a while.

“Look, I get you’re concerned–”

“That puts it lightly.”

“Bucky, I’m not a child anymore!” You yelled, your voice carried over to the now-silent table. You tried to ignore how their eyes bore into the back of your head, their ears itching to hear more of Bucky’s and your private conversation. “I–I can handle myself.” Your eyes finally met his icy blue ones. “I got the evidence for the trial. End of Story.”

Bucky opened his mouth to refute your words, but you shut him down. “Look, I’m sorry.” Bucky’s eyes lowered. “I got a live location and message from FRIDAY, only for it to disappear with no updates. Then you go and sacrifice yourself to buy us time to get out. So yeah, I’m concerned.” Guilt floods your system. Gently, you place your hand on Bucky’s arm. He reciprocated, lightly patting your hand in return.

“So?” You asked, breaking the silence. “What’s next? With the impeachment, I mean.”

You watched as Bucky’s face scrunched up. His jaw clenched tightly. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you tensed. You shook your head. This isn’t how the story was supposed to go. You got the evidence, and now Valentina gets sent to jail—end of Story. “I sent you the evidence. We–” You pointed back to the table at the others. Yelena waved to you before turning back to her food. “Can testify against her. Hell, maybe even put her in federal prison for attempted murder.”

“Yeah?” Bucky raised his brows at your words, his shoulders tensing by his ears. “Well, she just tied all of us to her.” You felt every drop of blood in your body go cold. The New Avengers, the live broadcast. Hell, she got you and Bucky on screen as well. You two hadn’t said anything, but your presence was enough. “Doesn’t help, she wiped O.X.E’s slate clean. The investigation came up clear. Nothing.”

“Fuck,” you cursed, fingers reaching into your hair to clench tightly at the strands. “She’s gonna get away scotch free…and we’ll be screwed if we try anything against her.” You fought the urge to kick the wall beside you, but your willpower wasn’t as strong as you thought it had been. Your foot kicked out. The wall thudded, and a framed photo fell to the ground, shattering.

A chorus of ooo’s erupted from behind you.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Yelena teased.

Your ears flushed as you bent down to pick up the frame. Dusting off the photo, you took a step towards the counter, firstly to apologize, but then to clean up the mess you had made, but something stopped you. It had taken you a moment to recognize the faces in the photo, but you’d know them anywhere. The picture was dated to the Battle of New York and was signed by each member of the original Avengers. Your finger traced over their faces, stopping on your Father’s.

“You’re more like him than you think,” Bucky whispered into your ear. You whirled around to face him again, a chuckle escaping your mouth.

“Yeah, sure, you’re just saying that,” you disagreed. The frame dropped to your side. “He was a hero. Sometimes a bit of an overprotective asshole, but a hero…” You trailed off. “Nothing like me.” Your eyes trailed back to the table, unconsciously meeting Bob’s. He offered you a small smile before turning his gaze back onto Walker, who now took the opportunity to share one of his war stories. “I just don’t want to fail them. It’s funny,” you chuckled. “We’re a bunch of messed-up, traumatized people who were alone but found each other and made this,’ you whirled your hands trying to conjure up the word. “This team…it just,” You grew quiet. “Reminds me of them–The Avengers.”

Bucky took a step closer to you. His hand came to gently pry the photo from your hands. He held it up to you. The photo mirrored the team sitting at the table. Your eyes widened at what he was trying to get. You quickly snatched the frame back from him, shaking your head. “No. Bucky, no–”

“I think we have a shot–”

“Then Valentina would fuck us over. Remember? We’re chained to her.”

“Then become strong enough to steal those chains out from under her,” Bucky enunciated. You frowned. “There’s a reason Valentina wanted you to help her little PR stunt with the Sentry. You’re the daughter of the Avengers. Your name holds power. It’s time you took it back and made them proud.”

You shook your head, stepping into the shadows of the corner, your shoulders caving in on themselves. “But–but what if I fail? What if I just give Valentina more power and–”

“Then we’ll be beside you. Together as a team.” Bucky had never seemed more determined. A light flickered in his eyes at the proposal. You bit your lip, thinking it over and over. Your eyes darted back and forth between the others and Bucky.

“Okay.”

A thunderous chorus of “Yes!” filled the air. It came from Alexei, who had quite the set of lungs on him. As his yell filled the air, you made a note to leave a large tip once you all left. You winced, noticing all of the others had been listening the whole time.

“Were you…” You trailed off, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Listening to the entirety of your conversation? Yes.” Ava blatantly said. “You’re not very subtle.”

“But it’s fine,” Yelena finished. “As Bucky said, we’re a team now. No use in fighting Valentina alone.”

“Hate to cut the conversation short…” Walker added. You all turned to look at him as a humongous yawn crept out of his mouth. Like wildfire, the yawn ignited a chain reaction in all of you; Your minds remembering your lack of sleep. “But can we talk about the whole team and Beat-Valentina's operation once we’ve, you know, slept?”

Nods and murmurs of agreement echoed from all of you, but an important question hung in the air. Bob was the first to voice it.

“Uh, where exactly are we supposed to sleep?” He raised his hand in the air like a student asking permission from a teacher.

“That’s a great fucking question, Bob,” Walker announced. His eyes fell on you.

It took you a moment to realize, they were all looking at you. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You do live in New York—“ Bucky added. You shot him a glare. The New Avengers were sleeping at your place for the night.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As you all lined up to enter your home, you wished you could turn invisible from all the looks your neighbors were giving you. You could only imagine how they felt: seven bloodied and beaten up, heavily armoured people, many of whom held terrifying demeanours, didn’t fit the prim and polished look the wealthy neighbor standardized. You offered tight-lipped smiles, occasionally acknowledging your neighbors until everyone had shuffled in.

You took in a sharp inhale of breath, scooting behind those still removing their shoes in the entryway, only exhaling when you got to the open living room.

“Now this…is home,” Alexei complimented, glancing around your house. His eyes fell on the various photos lining the walls. Some of which brought a smile to his face.

“Thanks,” you muttered, unsure of how to respond to the wave of visitors in your home. You weren’t one to have guests, even though you had numerous guest rooms and an air mattress in case anyone did come to visit. There had been some talks long ago for Pepper and Morgan to come visit, but they didn’t amount to much. Other than the occasional dinner with Bucky, Sam, and Clint, no one really stopped by.

“Shit your rich,” Ava noted, taking in the sight of your high end home decor. Walker laughed at Ava’s comment. His eyes lit up as he patrolled the room as if he were picturing himself living in a place like this.

Meanwhile, Yelena had made herself at home, plopping onto your couch. With a loud groan, she sank into the cushions. The grim and dirt from her armour rubbed into the fabric of the couch, but you didn’t care. “I’m stealing this couch, Stark.” You raised your brows at her comment. Part of you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up one day to find it gone.

The only one who didn’t welcome them into your home was Bob. He stood by the entrance of the living room, lingering on the edge. You turned to him, opening your arms. “You’re welcome to make your home, Bob.”

“Oh, uh–” his eyes widened, taking a small step into the living room. Immediately, his eyes peered around the room in awe of it all. Glancing at the books and DVDs that lined the shelves along the far wall, you watched him stop and read all the titles. Occasionally, his hand would reach up to his mouth to wipe away something, his eyes finding something interesting on the ceiling.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “The kitchen is just past the living room.” Everyone’s eyes followed past your finger into the kitchen. “Feel free to help yourself to food. Uh–” you rubbed your temples, feeling a headache forming. “Two bathrooms, one on each floor. There’s showers if anyone, you know–Bedrooms, I got two guest rooms, and can inflate an air mattress in the office if–”

“I call the couch!” Yelena calls out, already draping an arm across her face. Soon after, the others began to stake claims to which bed they’d sleep in. Alexei took the guest room with the bunk bed, and Walker begrudgingly volunteered to take the bottom bunk. Ava snatched the other guest room, leaving Bucky the air mattress in the office. Once they all dispersed to their respective rooms to rest, clean up, etc., you realized Bob was still standing, with nowhere to go.

“You can take the couch with me, Bob,” Yelena murmured. Her voice was full of sleep. She was too tired to see the wave of discomfort Bob had to share the couch with her.

“There’s also my room,” You offered. Bob’s eyes squinted at you.

“Oh-uh, no, I can’t–”

“It’s fine, I’m not even tired,” you insisted. It was a lie, but Bob didn’t need to know that.

“I-uh, don’t sleep,” Bob shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head. “I mean–I have a hard time sleeping in places I’m not familiar with…sorry.”

“I get it,” you explained, trying not to overwhelm him. After all, his memory was still foggy from before. You weren’t sure he even remembered how he got to New York in the first place. “Do you want to take a shower or–”

“Nah,” Bob assured you. His eyes moved back over to the books on your shelf. His feet waddled closer to get a better look.

“You can read one if you’d like.” Bob looked back at you, and you felt another dismissal coming. “I’m serious. Most of ‘em are children’s and young adult novels. It was all I could read for the longest time…still, they’re a fun read.” You moved to stand beside him, reaching for one of your favorite novels. “This one is really good. Called The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. Granted, it's a bunch of pictures and poems, but I loved it.” You smile at him, offering the book as a passage of time. Bob glances down at your hands, gently taking the book from you. Hugging it to his chest as if he were afraid of dropping it, he thanked you before turning away to take a seat on a nearby lounge chair.

Steps descending the stairs pulled you away from the bookcase. Walker shuffled down, approaching you with a question on his lips. “Got any extra toothbrushes and a change of clothes?” He asked you quietly, eyes narrowing on Yelena’s passed-out figure.

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t thought of that when offering your place for them to stay and sleep. You’d have clothes for the other women, but Bob, Alexei, Bucky, and John? Maybe you had something of your dad’s, but you weren’t inclined to give those shirts away just yet. “Oh, no. I can run out and grab something from the store, if you’d like.”

“All good,” Walker began to apologize. “I was just–”

“I’m sure the others want to change and get clean as well.” Walker was still trying to refute your generosity. “I don’t mind,” you insisted. Reluctantly, he nodded, stepping back towards the stairs as he thanked you.

Without wasting a moment, you had grabbed your keys and were on your way out the door when a passerby’s judgmental stare caught you. Groaning, you closed your front door and shuffled up the stairs. You snuck into your room, snatching a pair of clothes heading to the bathroom to wash up.

Your skin stung as you pulled up the shirt. All the cuts and scabs that now littered your body had practically sewn the fabric to your skin. Peeling it off, you fought back a wave of wincing. God, it hurt. With all the adrenaline drained from your body, the entirety of the situation hit you like a train. Luckily, the steamy hot strings of water pumping from the shower soothed your aches. You peered down at your feet, observing all the dirt, blood, and grime taint the water a dark brown. The water swirled at your toes, pooling at the drain before slipping out of sight. Blinking, you wipe some droplets of water from your face, reaching for your hair wash. You had a meticulous and efficient way of bathing: tackling your hair first, then your face, and your body. It didn’t feel right to wash yourself in any other way. If you washed your hair last, there’d be lingering remnants of shampoo and conditioner on your back, so then what was the point of washing your body before? Clint had given you some strange looks as you explained your routine to Nat one day. Granted, he probably still used three-in-one body wash for all his needs, but even so, it worked for you.

Rinsing the remaining bubbles of soap from your skin, you turned off the shower, stepping out to dry yourself. As if on cue, your phone screen lit up. Snatching it from its place on the counter, you answered the call. It was from Pepper, your mom.

“Hey,” you answered, using the towel to dry your hair, squeezing the water out. You had an inkling as to what she was calling about. Pepper never really called you for anything unless it was important or unless Morgan wanted to chat. You doubted Morgan was there since it was the middle of the day during the week, which meant school.

“So,” Pepper began. You could hear the tension in her voice from a mile away. “I saw an interesting news clip not long ago. Something about the New Avengers?” You sighed. “Care to explain?”

With a click of a bottle cap, you began to put on your skin care. Your skin let out a breath of relief, feeling the soothing and healing products coat it. “It's…a long story, Mom.”

“Well, I’d like to hear it, and don’t tell me you’re busy. I can see you are at your house.” You bit your lip, wincing. You had forgotten she had your phone’s location. Something about keeping track of the family. You didn’t blame her, knowing the shenanigans you and Dad had gotten up to.

You let out a huff of air. Your hands came to rest on the cool surface of the sink. You took in your appearance before taking a deep breath to explain everything to Pepper. “You remember I was helping with the impeachment trial?” You asked her. Pepper hummed. “Well, we needed evidence, not just…hearsay. So I went to get evidence. One thing led to the other, ended up saving New York City with a bunch of…” Friends? Superhumans? You couldn’t think of a good word, instead opting to just skip it over. Pepper would understand you anyway. “Valentina saw her opportunity and used it. Now the impeachment will lead to nowhere and…” You couldn’t help the audible sigh that escaped your mouth.

“And you’re just going to let her get away with it?” Pepper asked you.

You shook your head, realizing Pepper could see it. “No, I just–How did Dad do it?”

“Do what, Y/N?”

“Gain the favor of the public? Lead? Make a successful team in the first place? Do it all?” You took in a shaky breath, reaching for your clothes to offer some distraction from it all. “ Bucky said I should make him proud, do what they would want me to do, but–I don’t know what I’m doing and if I shou–”

“You already do make him proud,” Pepper interjected. “You always did.” You scoffed at that.

“Sure, it’s not like I went off and went rogue after…” Shame swallowed up your next words. “I failed him. Thought I was doing something good, and it just turns out I was hurting more than helping.”

“You were young, still a kid–”

“And that makes what I did okay? Pepper, I killed people with my–I hurt Morgan and Dad.”

“That’s not your fault. You know the mind stone did something to your powers–”

“Still.” You tensed. “It’s been years, and I should be able to control it, to touch–” Immediately, you opened the bottom bathroom drawer, pulling out a pair of gloves, pulling them over your hands and fingers.

After a pause on Pepper’s end, she began to speak. “You want to know how he did it?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice broke.

“He played the part and worked the people, never stopping for a moment to achieve his goal and protect his family. To protect you. It’s hard, Y/N. It took its toll on him, but there’s a reason the name Avengers is something revered and respected.” After a moment, she continued. “If anyone can do it, Y/N, it’s you.” Pepper’s voice was gentle and reassuring. Like how a warm blanket and cup of cocoa snap you out of the trance of a raging stormy night, Pepper pulled you out, grounding you.

“I gotta go pick up Morgan from school in a little bit–”

“Oh, I can let you go,” You sputtered.

“She misses you. I do too. It’s been a while since you came to visit. Maybe you can drive out here sometime soon? We can talk about this more–” You thought about it. The cabin by the lake. The warm walls that comforted you and held the remaining pieces of your family. It was a place where only rest and peace were found–the place where you said your final farewell to your Dad. Maybe a break would do you good. A place for you to find your bearings before tackling Valentina off her pedestal.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you interjected, cutting Pepper off. She let out a soft chuckle.

“We’ll talk later.”

“Tell Morgan I said hi,” you managed to say before the call ended.

Slowly, your eyes found your reflection in the mirror. You looked normal now. Fresh cuts still covered the skin of your cheeks, but you were clean and fresh. You took in a deep breath, muttering an affirmation to yourself. Cracking open the door, steam from the bathroom snuck out, clouding the air. You trekked down the stairs, snatching your wallet and keys from the bowl on your hallway cabinet. As you slipped on your shoes, a pair of footsteps crept up behind you.

“Uh–mind if I join you?” Bob asked, pulling at the end of his sleeve. “I can carry the bags, you know, help.”

You turned to look at him, smiling, “Book too boring for you?”

Bob shook his head. “Finished it actually.” Your eyes widened. Just how long had you been in the shower? “It was really good,” Bob added.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you nodded, opening the door wide enough for the two of you. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company–or the help.” Bob smiled back at you, slipping on his shoes before shuffling out the front door behind you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

80s music blasted from the rickety speakers in the grocery store ceiling. It always played during the slow business hours. Where no one really was in the store besides those who no longer had better things to occupy their days, such as work, family, school, and more. It seemed you and Bob fell under that category with the numerous elderly folk roaming the long aisles searching for the best deal for their buck.

Bob strolled the aisles beside you, pushing the cart. He quietly hummed along to the current song playing from above as you perused the shelves. You already had three tubes of toothpaste chucked into the metal cart, each a different brand of a minty fresh variety. You were unsure if any of your house guests had a preference or not. You squinted at another brand, which advertised as eco-friendly. You raised your brow, shrugged, and placed it in the cart with the others. Better safe than sorry, you figured. Next came the toothbrushes. You never understood the reason for all the different brands and varieties. They all did the same thing, yet it seemed there was a meaningful difference in the shape and design of the toothbrush bristles. You frowned, trying to figure out the difference between the Ultra Soft Bamboo brushes and the Micro Nano toothbrushes. Sighing, you placed both back on the racks, reaching for the cheap three-dollar ones. They came in a pack of 12. Each with different cartoon characters plastered onto them. Granted, they were marketed towards children, but you were sure they’d care less.

Watching you place the toothbrushes into the cart, Bob let out a chuckle. You cocked your head at him as he wiped his mouth. “You put four different toothpastes in the cart and just a basic bag of toothbrushes.”

You glanced down at the cart, noticing the irony. A soft shrug left your shoulders. “I don’t know, it’s just people have different tastes and tooth brushes just…” You snickered, trailing off, not really having a reason for the diverse set of toothpastes. “Oh well, do you want to add anything?”

Bob shook his head. “Nah, I don’t have a preference. Just whatever works, I guess.”

“Same,” you agreed. “Never can understand the difference between all of these. Just too–”

“Overwhelming?” Bob finished.

You nodded. “Yeah, overwhelming. I get that we don’t want products to be in a monopoly, but why are there all these differences? Like, what even is the difference between…” You grabbed two random toothbrushes off the shelf. “...Essential Fresh Clean or Advance Clean, like they both clean, or at least I hope they do.”

All of a sudden, Bob let out a loud snort as waves of laughter rippled from his chest. You watched a large smile etch itself onto his face, as his nose scrunched up, hands doing the same, tucking in close to his body. You couldn’t help but soften at the sight. He seemed so carefree and so full of light. Like a lighthouse on a stormy night, his eyes lit up, shining their way through the dark. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by them.

“S-sorry,” Bob managed to mutter in between his chortles. “It’s just–you’re so funny. You know that?”

You felt your ears growing hot from all the attention. Shyly, you glanced away, looking anywhere but at Bob. “Yeah, yeah. How ‘bout we move on from toothbrushes and onto the other things.” You said, reaching into your pocket to retrieve the list you had made. Your eyes scanned the different clothing sizes, and you had managed to figure out with the help of a very tired Yelena and a very intelligent AI. Who knew FRIDAY could deduce the approximate clothing size of everyone? With a click, you crossed out the toothbrush and paste section. “How’s your fashion sense, Bob?” You asked.

Bob shrugged before glancing down at his clothes. “Not great. I mean, I just wear…well, whatever.”

“Good enough for me,” You muttered, before telling him John’s, Bucky’s, and Alexei’s clothing sizes.

You figured you two could divide and conquer, leaving him to tackle the men’s section while you trekked through the women’s. As you perused each aisle of clothing racks, selecting items that Yelena or Ava might like, you navigated the sizing like a pro. While just as confusing as an ancient grimoire written before time itself existed, you took to understanding the language of women’s sizing well. Something you had Natasha to thank for. Meanwhile, the men’s sizing was too simple. It made you feel like there was some hidden agenda. You didn’t trust it. After you had grabbed a few shirts and pants in the sizes of your female house guests, you paused. Did Ava even wear anything besides her suit? You remember her mentioning something about how it helped her hold her body together in the physical realm. You glanced down at the clothes you got for her, contemplating whether you should put them back or not. Instead, you chose to leave them. She wore them if she wanted to, and if not, well, you had a few extra sets of clothes for the future.

Rolling the cart from the colorful women’s section into the beige and blue men’s section, you searched for Bob. Occasionally, you stopped to snicker at a strange quote plastered onto a shirt before moving on. It didn’t take long for you to find Bob, hiding behind a rack of pants. His eyes darted between the comfortable fabric of the sweat pants and the stiffer, nicer-looking trousers.

“Get both,” you spoke, coming up beside him.

Bob nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus!”

You chuckled. “Someone’s jumpy. Who’re these for?” You asked, pointing to the pants as you gently pried the pile Bob held in his hands, placing them into the cart.

“Uh, I got everything for the others, except–Does Walker seem like a sweatpants guy to you? I don’t know.”

You pursed your lips, excessively jutting out your bottom lip. “John’s definitely a pants kind of guy. I doubt the man’s worn anything other than shorts when lounging around. If you’re talking sweatpants, Alexei’s your man. Bucky…he’s a pants man, but also wears sweatpants.”

Bob cocked his brow at your words. “You seem very sure about Bucky’s taste.”

You scoffed. “Only had to live on the run with him for a while. Of course, Steve was there, but you learn a lot about a person living under the radar with them.” You noticed the questions popping up from Bob’s throat, waiting at the tip of his tongue. “The Sokovia Accords Debate?” Bob shook his head, unsure of what you were talking about. “It’s this set of agreements that regulates superhumans. Some of the Avengers were all for it; it held us accountable for our actions and their consequences. But others…well, they knew it meant the government would hold power over us.” You grew quiet as you took a pair of pants in John’s size and placed them in the cart. “I was scared and didn’t want to be under the government's control again. I suppose some of the others felt the same way. But it created a…divide amongst us.” You felt Bob’s eyes stare right through you. The pity, the sympathy, you didn’t want it. Shaking your head, you peered up at Bob with a tense smile. “They were repealed in the end. You know, after…the blip.”

Biting his lip, Bob reached out to grasp your arm and offer comfort. He couldn’t remember much about the blip, being in and out of intoxicated states. He had a hard time remembering anything from the haziness of his memory. But before his hand could touch you, you stepped back, taking a sharp inhale at the sight of his hand, his bare skin. “S-sorry,” Bob hurriedly said, pulling his hand back into his body.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry, I just–I don’t like touching people with my ability and all. Sometimes it’s fine and other times it’s…dangerous.” You stepped to the cart, taking the steering bar in your hands to push it to the grocery section of the store. You needed something other than some week-old beers and microwavable mac and cheese in your home. “It wasn’t always like that, you only had to worry about electronic things frying, but now…it’s everything—anything with energy. Anyway,” You muttered, trying to bring a more cheerful tone to the conversation. “Want to help me pick out something for dinner?” You didn’t give Bob time to answer before you had pushed the cart out of the men’s section.

Little conversation passed between you two as you selected some ingredients from the vegetable aisle. A simple pasta was easy enough to make and filling enough for seven people. You figured you’d also get some stuff to make sandwiches and some stuff for breakfast, unsure of how long everyone would be staying. Bob occasionally selected a few things to place into the cart. As the silence deepened between you two, you felt shame rising, boiling to the surface. The only sound accompanying the tension shifting in the air was the squeaking of the cart’s wheel. It had decided the weight of everything in the cart was too much for it. You couldn’t take one more deafening squeak, but couldn’t find it in yourself to say anything. Soon, you found yourself finished with the checkout, your card in hand. The cashier handed you your receipt as Bob placed the bagged goods into the cart, replacing you at the helm.

“Uh, I-” You kicked yourself, folding the receipt into a tiny little square. What were you going to say? Sorry for unconsciously dumping trauma onto you. Sorry for shutting down your help. Sorry for being a dick? None of the options your mind came up with sat well with you. Instead, you found yourself addressing a different topic. “Want to help me make…dinner?”

“You don’t sound very sure about that,” Bob noted, sensing the uncertainty in your voice.

“No, I want your help–I just meant–Is it really dinner? God,” you groaned. “I’m exhausted.”

“Thought you said you weren’t tired,” Bob repeated, unconsciously leaning into you. Not quite brushing shoulders, but close enough, you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Offered me your room to sleep in and everything.”

“Right. I did.” You sighed, glancing up at him. “Well, Bob, I lied. I fucking tired. Yeah, I was unconscious after crashing down from the sky, but there’s a difference in resting and being in an unresponsive state–”

“Wait, you what?”

You paused, having arrived at your car. You clicked the button that lifted the trunk. Your nose scrunched up slightly. “Do you…remember?” You shook your head. “What do you remember?”

“Uh,” Bob muttered, placing two bags into the back of your car. “Last I remember, I ran out, distracting everyone, and I saw you…” His eyes locked onto yours, his eyebrows pinching together. “You were calling out my name. They were–” He looked away. You watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched. You gulped. “You were supposed to be in the car with the others, but you came after me. W-why?”

You unloaded the last bag into the trunk, pulled the trunk closed, and began to push the cart into its designated spot in the parking lot. “That’s a…big question, Bob.”

“We’ve got time,” Bob muttered.

You took in a deep sigh as you two split; he entered the passenger seat and you the driver’s seat. Putting the key into the ignition, you turned it, your car humming to life. “I–” you looked down at your gloved hands. You had already told Bob more in a few hours than you had managed to spit out to Bucky in months. There was something about him that made you want to talk. Maybe it’s because you knew he’d understand, or that maybe he’d listen to you and not just hear your words. Whatever the reason, you began to speak just as the radio began to play a 90s rock song quietly in the background. “In the vault, I guess I made a promise to myself that I’d make sure you made it out. Told myself if I got you out, safe and sound, maybe I was what my dad thought I could be–a hero. And when you took off, drawing attention away from us so we could escape, I ran after you.”

“But you are a hero,” Bob said. “At least, I think you are.”

You smiled at Bob’s words. “Thanks, Bob.” You turned your attention away from him and to the road. You didn’t feel like now was the time to drop any more stories of your past. Instead, you cranked up the volume, allowing the music to fill the air.

Before you knew it, you had returned to your place, groceries unloaded and covering the countertop. Slowly, you began to unpack, placing everything in its place. Bob was kind enough to deliver the change of clothes and tooth brushes to their respective owners while you got dinner started. Yelena had woken up first, quickly showering before sauntering into the kitchen to peer over your shoulder, peering at the pot of boiling water.

“You’re making…?” Yelena asked, her accent seemingly thicker with sleep. You glanced over at her. Droplets of water trickled off her hair and onto the new shirt you had gotten her. It was a light grey with cute doodles of puppies on them.

“Pasta.”

“Pasta.” She repeated your words, slightly shaking her head back and forth like a bobblehead. “Just Pasta? No special sauce or–”

“Just pasta.”

“Alright, no,” Yelena stated, snatching the wooden spoon from your hand. “There is no ‘just pasta’. That is so wrong. Sit back, I’ll make dinner. ‘Just pasta,’ she grumbled, the words like it was a slur. Too tired, you stepped away from the stove, allowing Yelena full control of the cooking process. “What else did you get from the store?” You shrugged. “Please tell me you got some vegetables. Some meat?” You pointed over to a brown paper bag on the counter. Yelena skipped towards the bags, pulling out what she wanted. She gave you an approving look before asking you where everything in your kitchen was located. But before you could answer, she cut you off. “Never mind, I’ll find it. Just go to sleep and rid yourself of those…” She used her finger to draw tiny circles around your eyes. “Raccoon eyes. A bit too emo if you ask me.”

“They’re not that bad.”

Yelena smirked at your defensive reaction. “They’re bad. So bad. Bob, tell Stark how bad her eye bags are.”

You whirled around to find Bob sneaking back into the kitchen. His eyes widened, hovering over your dark circles. He peered over at Yelena, who was waiting for his agreement. “I–You do look tired,” Bob replied.

Quickly, you brought your hands to cover your eyes. “Alright, I got it. I’ll go sleep,” You turned to Yelena. “Just don’t burn my house down.”

“No promises,” Yelena smiled, shooing you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping. Once your head hit the soft plush of your pillow, your eyes closed, welcoming in well-deserved rest. Your lullaby was the loud rumbling snores that escaped through the wall you shared with the guest room, where Alexei and John were sleeping. You doubted John Walker was the kind of man who snored. Instead, you selected Alexei as the source of the thunderous noise. Any other day, the snoring would put you off sleep, yet the exhaustion that ached deep from within your bones overcame you. You didn’t even manage to pull your comforter over your body before falling asleep. It was a decision you regretted upon waking up. A chill crept up your body as Yelena shook you awake. Your eyes peered open. You groaned, of course, everyone was now occupying your room.

“Whatisit?” You mumbled, your words slurring together.

“Stark,” Yelena called out to you in your slumber. “It’s Valentina. She wants to talk.”

You were wide awake now.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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dilly-dahlia · 2 days ago

Text

vi. Check

pairing: Gene x Reader

content: pdh, drill team!reader, opposites attract, sunshine/grumpy, feelings (finally), suggestive but not explicit, images used are NOT an indication of the reader's appearance

summary: Practically everyone you knew was pointing out the alleged spark you had with Gene. You denied it every time, but once you're left alone with your own thoughts, you realize that they might not be wrong.

word count: 7.4k

masterlist

The Problem With Popularity masterlist

previous part

There was nothing that could have prepared you for the debate Garroth, Laurance, Dante, and Travis had found themselves entangled in during lunch. You weren’t even sure how you got to this point, but you definitely didn’t want to be part of it.

Somehow, your curious question about whether Garroth or Laurance had a girlfriend (because they had been acting weird lately when the topic was brought up) led to the guys at your lunch table debating who had the most game. So far, it definitely seemed like Garroth and Laurance were in the lead, which was unsurprising. Dante, however, seemed to have fallen dead last among the four of them. He was not very happy about it.

“I have lots of girls that would date me!” His hands were splayed out on the table, and he stuttered as he frantically looked around the lunch room for any familiar faces. “Lori said she likes me.”

“Lori said you were cute but she’d never date you,” you cut in dryly. She’d told you one day in the locker room attempting to get Dante to quit bothering her. You hadn’t done anything about it yet, but Lori hadn’t said anything else to you and Dante had stopped rambling about her.

“What? Why?”

“Maybe because when you were dating your last girlfriend you still flirted with girls,” Laurance suggested. He shrugged, holding his hands up in surrender. “I dunno, though. That’s just a hunch I have.”

“First of all, Daisy said she didn’t want to label it and didn’t care. She turned out to be lesbian anyway, so that doesn’t count.”

“What I’m hearing is you were such a bad boyfriend that she never wanted to like a man again,” Travis said. He had come out of his shell more and often put himself into conversations with the other guys. You were glad for it, but he was more like Dante than you ever imagined.

“Second,” Dante made his voice louder and glared at Travis to shush him, “Laurance, you fumbled Y/n, so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“At least I could pull her.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Dante’s defense and Laurance’s rebuttal. At some point it had been decided that the most significant thing anyone had done in your friend group was date you. You weren’t sure when that happened, but you didn’t mind. You found it amusing that they’d made you the standard, as stupid as it was. Not to mention it boosted your confidence and had helped you during your sophomore year.

“Dante, you need to just face the fact that you aren’t all that,” Garroth said, shrugging. “It’s okay. Not everyone can be the best.”

Dante glared at Garroth. His expression was void of any feeling and it looked like he might have been plotting a murder.

“Well, I’m sure Katelyn would-“

“Nope.” Katelyn was hardly paying attention to the conversation. Most of her attention seemed to be turned toward her phone and the chicken noodle soup that had been served for lunch.

“Aphmau, if I asked you out, you'd accept, right?”

“Wow, uhm. Look at that.” The freshman looked down at her wrist, clicking her tongue at the time displayed on her imaginary watch. “I have to go.”

Aphmau stood up, lifting her tray from the table and hurrying over to the trash. She lingered there for a moment, but she had left her backpack, so you knew she would be back.

Travis reached over to aggressively pat Dante on the back. “Sucks, man.”

“Travis, you don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“And yet girls love my awkward charm.”

Dante rolled his eyes, looking around the room before his gaze landed on you. You raised your brows at him, daring him to continue with his poorly thought out plan. Aphmau returned to her spot just as he started talking.

“I’m sure Y/n would date me.” He pointed to you, sounding slightly exasperated.

The thought made you laugh. Loudly. You and Dante? It was ridiculous to you. As you lifted your water bottle to your lips, you said, “In your dreams.”

Katelyn snickered. “Maybe if you were your brother,” Her tone was teasing. She glanced up and laughed at the sight of you coughing on water.

“Katelyn! That was one time,” you exclaimed. Your voice was slightly hoarse from coughing, and you cleared your throat to get rid of the scratchy feeling. You shook your head, reaching to lightly hit her arm. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, my god, Gene?” Dante seemed appalled. You weren’t sure why, since it had been brought up multiple times that you and Gene appeared to have a thing going on. Though Dante did tend to forget things, even if he paid attention.

Laurance leaned forward and you found yourself wanting to curl up and disappear. Just poof out of existence. “What does that mean?” He asked you instead of Katelyn, his blue gaze unwavering from yours. It felt like he was staring deep into your soul, learning every single one of your secrets without your having to say anything.

Katelyn, as oblivious to tone and atmosphere as she often was, laughed. “Me, her, and Sasha made a hear me out cake a while ago and she put Gene on it.”

You thanked God she didn’t mention the tangent you had gone on the previous Sunday. The one where you told her you didn’t know what was happening, but that every time you found yourself with Gene you were smiling more and butterflies flapped in your stomach. If she did, you knew it would have been over for you. That was something you would never live down and you’d face judgement for the rest of your life.

“It wasn’t, like, an admission to a crush or anything!” you quickly added. Your voice was shaky. It was clear you were nervous and you hoped your friends couldn’t tell that you were getting hot. “It’s a hear me out cake, so I was saying, like . . . y’know. Hear me out. Maybe if Gene wasn’t a complete jerk I’d . . .”

You trailed off, finding that your sad attempt at defending yourself was crashing and burning and Dante and Laurance and everyone else’s faces slowly twisted into varying expressions of surprise and disgust. You covered your mouth, hoping the physical barrier would be better than your self conscious filter at making you not speak.

“She said she’d”—Katelyn imitated the hand motion you made to her weeks ago. Immediately you reached over to smack her hand down and hold it beneath the table.

“I did not do that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No. You were tired and seeing things.”

“No, you definitely did that.”

“Can we get back to how Y/n would date Gene?” Laurance cut in. His brows were pulled together, his gaze was flicking between you and Katelyn, though it always lingered longer on you.

“Yeah, I want to know why you’d rather go out with my brother than me,” Dante added. He leaned forward as well, his arms crossed in a judging manner.

“Okay, I never said I would date Gene.” You rolled your eyes. You had started using your hands to try and paint a picture, but it only ended up being a slop of random motions. “I only admitted that I think he’s attractive.”

“So you think I’m ugly?” Dante asked.

You furrowed your brows and side eyed him. You paused your train of thought to process his words and carefully consider your next words so you didn’t make an even deeper hole for yourself. “I never said that.”

“But I wasn’t on the hear me out cake.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, dropping your head and splaying your hands over your face. After a moment, you lifted your head and clapped your hands. “Just because you were not on the hear me out cake doesn’t mean anything! It’s called a hear me out, so you hear me out about different people and/or objects!”

“Objects?” Travis muttered. It was more to himself, though, as his question went unheard.

“It’s not supposed to be a universally accepted thing, and you guys weren’t supposed to know about it anyway,” you finished, letting out a huff. “But just because I put Gene on there doesn’t mean-“

“I feel like that warrants the jar,” Dante said bluntly. Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him for a moment.

“What?”

“I feel like I should be able to call the jar on you because you’re saying my brother-“

“Oh, my god Dante! It was a theoretical situation!”

“It was a hear me out cake so you deliberately chose him beforehand!” Dante crossed his arms, leaning forward on the table. His gaze was unwavering. So much so that it almost scared you. “Jar.”

You scoffed in defiance, but once Garroth and Travis chimed in that Dante was right, you reluctantly dug the bedazzled jar from your bag.

“You guys are terrible,” you mumbled to yourself, counting out seven ones and shoving them in the glass.

“More.”

“What?”

“This is Gene we’re talking about, Y/n,” Laurance added. Since when did he have Dante’s side? Well, obviously he was but why was he only just now voicing it? “He’s a terrible person and has bothered almost every single person at this table.”

“Yeah, and he’s my brother.”

“Oh, my goodness. I know he’s your brother, Dante,” you groaned, fishing a crumpled ten out of your wallet and dropping it in as well. “That’s all I have,” you said, capping the jar and shoving it back in your backpack. “There. Happy?”

You looked to Dante for approval. You scoffed at the sight of the grimace on his face. “I guess if that’s all you have,” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes, standing to take your tray to the wash station just as the bell rang. “You are so dramatic.”

Once you had walked over and set your dirty bowl and tray into their designated spots, you waited by the hallway entrance for Garroth, Laurance, and Aphmau to catch up. You debated just leaving them behind and continuing to sixth period on your own, though, since they (mainly Laurance) would be questioning you relentlessly.

You spent too long thinking about it and found yourself stepping in time with the three of them. Just as you predicted, the entire walk and majority of the class was spent grilling you about your feelings.

You claimed they were nonexistent.

They didn’t believe you.

—

“You know,” Lucinda began. She took a long pause in her sentence, using a drawn out sip of her sweet tea to bridge the gap between her words. “Studies show the more time you spend with someone the more you like them.”

Both you and Katelyn slowly blinked at her from across the booth. The two of you sat in silence, your food momentarily forgotten as you tried to figure out why that was relevant to the conversation.

“What does that even mean?” Katelyn finally asked, her brows furrowed. “Obviously the more time you spend with someone the more you like them.”

“What were we even talking about to prompt that?” you cut in, scraping the sides of the pink ice cream cup in your hand with a spoon.

Lucinda shrugged, setting her foam cup down on the table again. She spent a second swirling it around, distracted by the sounds of ice clinking together. It was clear there were multiple things on her mind, though from the way she let out a dejected sigh made you think she had settled for talking about something heavier.

“I don’t know,” she mused, propping her head against her hand. She stared at the expanse of wall behind yours and Katelyn’s heads, her gaze seeming far off. “Just thinking that the opposite might be true, too.”

You raised a brow, sharing a glance with Katelyn. Neither of you were sure how to respond to her revelation, so you just kept quiet until Lucinda continued.

“Is there something wrong with me?” she suddenly asked. Your eyes widened and you instinctively reached across the restaurant table to take Lucinda’s hand.

“What? Of course not. Why would there be something wrong with you?” Beside you, Katelyn straightened in her seat and pursed her lips. She was being uncharacteristically quiet, and if Lucinda weren’t about to experience a crisis you might have commented on it.

“Just . . . Ivan-”

Katelyn groaned, tilting her head back. “Luz, I’ve told you a million times-”

“I know! I know.” Lucinda sighed again, fully leaning against the table now. “But he didn’t exactly . . . do anything this time. I just- I don’t know if I like him. Anymore, at least. I think I did, but now it’s . . .”

She made a vague spinning motion with her hand. Clearly her brain was too scrambled to actually form a fully coherent thought, but now that she had partially laid her woes before you, it was understandable.

And it made sense—Lucinda had been acting weird lately. You noticed it was a gradual thing, but over the past couple weeks her usual bubbly and playful personality had been slowly diminishing. You had never commented on it, assuming it was just a natural shift in her mood, but now knowing that Ivan had something to do with it made sense.

Which you should’ve known, really. She hadn’t talked about him without being prompted by someone else for weeks. Normally she would’ve let at least something about her relationship with him slip, whether accidentally or not.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Lucinda continued. “We decided to go on a break a while ago. The break was supposed to end earlier this week, but being on it made me feel . . .”

“Relieved?” Katelyn offered when Lucinda trailed off.

“Like you could do whatever you want?” you added.

Lucinda was silent for a moment, taking in your words before slowly nodding. “Yeah. Which is weird to me because people also say that the more time you spend away from a person, the more you miss them. Like the getting to know and liking someone thing I said earlier. But when Ivan and I went on this break, I realized that I don’t really want him.”

“Maybe you’ve been forcing yourself to like him,” you suggested. It wouldn’t have been surprising, to you or Katelyn or anyone else for that matter. Looking from the outside in, it didn’t seem like Ivan and Lucinda even liked each other. “I mean, I can’t even remember the last time you said something positive about him.”

“He asked me to homecoming. Made me a cute sign,” Lucinda reminded, though the attempt to paint Ivan in a positive light seemed less than half-hearted.

“Yeah, after you begged him to,” Katelyn pointed out. “And that sign was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It was so low effort, Lucinda. I’m surprised you even accepted.”

Lucinda let out a heavy sigh, though she didn’t seem too disappointed. And knowing her, it was entirely possible that she had already drawn a conclusion herself—she just wanted the affirmation from her closest friends.

She laid against her crossed arms on the table. For a few minutes, the three of you stayed completely silent as she ran through a million thoughts on her own. You continued to scrape the sides of your ice cream cup and Katelyn savored each fry she dipped into her strawberry milkshake. The two of you let your friend stew in her own emotions before she finally sat back up. Neither you or Katelyn drew attention to her reddened eyes, and you pretended that the brief wipe she gave them was just to fix her lashes.

“Enough about me,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than she wanted. She cleared her throat before leaning forward again, propping her head against her fist once more. “What’s going on with you two?”

Katelyn shrugged, taking Lucinda’s question and previous grievance as an invitation to talk about her own. “Jeffory and I are arguing.”

Lucinda furrowed her brows, leaning forward. “Oh, my god. What about?”

Katelyn rolled her eyes, waving her hand as if she wanted to dismiss the topic (like she wasn’t the one that brought it up). “How nice he is. What else?”

“What happened?” you asked, turning your head toward her.

“He just is so . . . good.” Katelyn blinked, trying to find another way to describe it but ultimately failing. “I mean, you know how he is. Nice to everyone, even if they’re bothering him or being rude. There’s this girl.”

Lucinda scrunched her nose. “Oh. Talya?”

Katelyn nodded, an exaggerated motion to portray her annoyance at the situation. “Yes. She so obviously likes him, but he doesn’t see it even though I’ve told him.” Katelyn groaned, leaning back and tilting her head against the wall behind her. “And I keep telling him I don’t like that he keeps talking to her, but he just- He can’t be mean to her, is what he says.”

You and Lucinda both hum in consideration, taking in Katelyn’s words and choosing your own carefully. It could be hard when she vented to you—she would get herself so worked up and then the smallest things would make her tick like a bomb and explode. It was something she was working on, as well as her patience. But, well, she was getting impatient with it.

“Well, that is the kind of person Jeffory is,” you carefully started, your words coming out slowly as if it would lessen the blow. “You knew that before you started dating. You also told me that was part of the reason you liked him.”

Katelyn let out a loud sigh and rolled her eyes. “I mean, yeah, I did. But now it’s getting on my nerves. And . . . God, he’s so patient. He’s never gotten mad at me.”

You furrowed your brows and exchanged a glance with Lucinda. “Isn’t that good?”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. Imagine having a boyfriend that doesn’t get mad at you.”

Katelyn deadpanned, glaring at you both. She rolled her eyes again as she dipped a fry into her milkshake. “You guys know what I mean. I obviously don’t need someone that gets upset as easily as I do, but it’d also be nice to have someone challenge me every now and then.”

“So you’re less upset that he won’t tell Talya to leave him alone and more mad that he’s just . . . passive?” you said, leaning against the table. You had scraped the edges of your cup completely clean, so you put the empty paper cup on the tray with the rest of the food that had been finished.

“No. I’m still upset that he won’t tell Talya to buzz off.”

“I think him being passive is a big part of that,” Lucinda commented. Katelyn rolled her eyes in response and waved her off.

“Okay, Lucinda. Every time you’ve told me about when Ivan talks to other girls, he at least tries to defend himself. Jeffory just doesn’t. He just apologizes for making me feel that way and then moves on.”

Lucinda softly hummed and shut her mouth. She wouldn’t be saying anything anymore—at least not about Katelyn.

“So that might just be a different conversation you need to have with him,” you suggested, breaking the tense silence that had entered the air. “Because it sounds more like you just want him to argue with you instead of just brushing off your feelings.”

Katelyn sighed. The tips of her ears reddened and she was starting to talk with her hands more. “I don’t want him to argue with me I just want him to respond! He never- He always gives me space to process what I’m thinking and I don’t always want that, I want him to engage.” She huffed, running her hands through her hair. “I don’t even want to completely argue, I want to banter with him. Like you and Gene, Y/n.”

Lucinda perked up at the slight shift in topic. You, on the other hand, scoffed.

“Gene and I don’t banter,” you said. “We just have normal conversations. As friends.”

“Well whatever you and Gene have, I want it,” Katelyn said. “There’s chemistry there, there’s interaction. I want a response from Jeffory. Not just a . . . Let’s come back to this.” She sighed again, slumping in her seat and fully leaning against the wall. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled, trying to calm herself down.

You reached over to grab her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. When Katelyn started to get like this, you found that the best way to ground her was through physical touch. It didn’t have to be anything big—just holding onto her in some way. She returned the squeeze you gave, letting out another heavy breath.

“Call what you have with Gene whatever you want,” she started after a moment, meeting your gaze, “but there’s something there. The two of you have this . . . weird spark. I might not like him but I’m not blind like Laurance or some of our other friends.”

Your brows raised and your eyes widened. You hadn’t expected this to turn on you, and you definitely hadn’t expected that to be the thing Katelyn seemed the most level-headed about. Though, you supposed that was a good thing since Lucinda took Katelyn’s comment as an invitation to direct the conversation in a different direction to try and take Katelyn’s mind off her own problems.

“Gene and I aren’t . . .” You paused. Weren’t what? It didn’t matter because Lucinda’s smooth voice slipped into the empty gap.

“You and him have been spending a lot of time together,” she said, wiggling her brows at you.

Your expression straightened. You’d had this conversation before, right? “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure it does.” Lucinda waved your weak defense off, taking a slow sip of her sweet tea. “People don’t typically spend time with people they don’t like.”

“Okay, then I like him, just not like that,” you replied, lifting your hands in a so what? motion. Lucinda rolled her eyes in response.

“Please, Y/n. I could feel the tension between you two from Dante’s couch on Sunday. The two of you were practically soaked in desire.” Both yours and Katelyn’s faces scrunched in disgust. “Okay, maybe that was a bad description. But I’m serious! You and Gene have something going on when no one else is looking, I can feel it.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Katelyn managed to laugh. She rolled her eyes as she drank the last of her milkshake before setting the tall glass to the side. “As unnecessarily explicit as Lucinda’s description was”—she turned her head to face you, her expression not doing anything to hide the reluctance she held in agreeing—“there is definitely something.”

You scoffed, looking at both your friends in disbelief. How else were you supposed to look at them when they suggested something as ridiculous as that? You certainly weren’t going to be bowing at their feet, praising them for their insight. Especially not when their insight was so poor and practically non existent.

When neither of their expressions wavered—when they kept that same unyielding look of certainty—you couldn’t help but scoff again. You truly couldn’t think of another way to react.

“There is nothing!” you eventually decided to say, throwing your hands up. “Gene and I are just friends. I’m not interested in him romantically, and he doesn’t even–”

“Yeah, that’s why you nearly broke down on the ride home Sunday,” Katelyn mumbled. After the words left her mouth, her gaze wandered. It was almost like she was looking for whoever had said that.

“Katelyn!” Lucinda laughed as you hit Katelyn’s shoulder, and you practically watched the lightbulb go off over Lucinda’s head.

She gasped dramatically and spread her arms across the dining table, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, my goodness. You do!”

“Do what?” You really didn’t need to ask. You knew.

“The first stage is denial, Y/n. And you are deep in that stage right now.”

You sputtered. Apparently, choosing to hang out with your friends would leave you so appalled that you forgot how to speak. “Am not!”

“Yuh-huh.” Lucinda nodded in a very exaggerated fashion. “And I have more evidence. Not only were the two of you being weird on Sunday, but I totally saw your face when he was talking to Lacy.”

Your cheeks heated and your eyes widened. Somehow you managed to cough up an argument. “Who even is Lacy?”

You were possibly the worst actress to exist on the planet. There was no way Lucinda or Katelyn would hear your shaky voice and actually believe you had no clue what they were talking about. Lucinda’s expression said as much, but before she could get the rest of her words out, you jumped in.

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at him, I was . . . Just wondering what they were talking about. Totally normal”

Lucinda hummed, though the pitch of it made you uncomfortable. “Say what you want, but I saw you. I saw your eyes and the way you stared Lacy down.”

“I love Lacy!” you suddenly exclaimed, not wanting to seem like you just disliked the girl. “She’s just a sweet freshman. If anything, I was making sure Gene wasn’t trying to blackmail her or date her or something . . .”

“Why would he want to date Lacy?” Katelyn asked, pushing her empty glass down the table and toward the growing pile of trash.

“I don’t think Gene’s interested in a freshman so much as he’s interested in a certain junior,” Lucinda softly sang, completely ignoring Katelyn’s question. You rolled your eyes, and instead of responding you gathered all the trash on the table and piled it on top of your food tray.

“You are both ridiculous,” you said, standing up. You carefully lifted the restaurant tray in your hands, making sure nothing would fall off before taking it to the trash. You put everything in its designated area—trash in the chute, Katelyn’s milkshake glass upside down on the counter, and finally the tray atop the can. When you returned to the table, you didn’t sit back down.

“I have to get going,” you said, grabbing your purse from where you had sat and wrapping it around yourself. You searched through it for everything you needed as you spoke. “Gene told me about sixish for meeting at Sasha’s and she lives kind of far.”

“Aw, she’s spending the night with Gene,” Lucinda mused. Katelyn did not seem impressed. She gave a mirthless hum and pulled out her phone instead. Taking note of Katelyn’s disinterest, Lucinda playfully swatted at her. “Katelyn, be excited. This is the first guy Y/n’s been interested in since Laurance.”

“Yeah, and she chose probably the worst choice she could have,” Katelyn reasoned, rolling her eyes. “Excuse me if I’m not excited.”

“Oh, my god.” You zipped up your purse, probably more aggressively than you realized. “Guys, for the last time, nothing is going on. Gene and I are just friends.”

Both girls hummed in disbelief, a perfectly synchronised reaction that made them both chuckle. You rolled your eyes (really, how had they not fallen out of your head?) before giving them a brief goodbye and leaving.

You didn’t start driving once you got in your car. You spent a moment just sitting there, taking in a moment—feeling the fresh air from the vents against your skin, watching a couple people walk to their cars, admiring the last of the sun’s golden rays, Laufey’s “Promise” playing from your car speakers. It was a slow moment. Nothing was happening. Nothing needed your immediate attention. You just breathed.

Which you felt like you needed. Non stop for the past week you had been fighting arguments about your alleged relationship with Gene. Constantly telling Laurance and Garroth and whoever else asked that no, you weren’t in love with (or even romantically interested in) Gene. You shut down Travis’s entirely inappropriate remark about you and Gene fucking, which you had promptly smacked him across the face and yelled at him for. After that, you refused to talk or acknowledge him for two and a half days before he presented a box of chocolates to you and begged for an apology during your second period. He ended up putting a hundred dollars in the jar as retribution. All week you had been ignoring the passing comments you heard in the halls, which proved to be incredibly difficult. People were bad at minding their business and keeping their opinions to themselves. Any time someone brought it up, you would vehemently deny anything they said. Total strangers had started approaching you, asking if Gene was really as bad as his reputation said.

It was getting overwhelming. No part of you liked it. You had considered cutting everything off with Gene entirely, but that would also affect your relationship with Sasha. You didn’t want that.

Not to mention that, as much as you denied it to anyone that said anything, you had grown to enjoy Gene’s company. The more time you spent with him the more he showed you small parts of himself that you doubted he let anyone else see. His downturned smile, for example. You hadn’t seen him give that genuine smile to anyone except you, and even then he kept it confined to when the two of you were alone or only around Sasha and Zenix. No one else.

During the conversations you had under the moon—when it was late and neither of you could sleep and you found yourselves texting each other because you knew the other would respond—both of you let yourselves go, just a little. Gene had confided in you that he hated his dad, who always found a reason to be out of the house. That he felt bad for hating his dad because his mom still loved him more than anything. You had admitted that you felt Phoenix Drop wasn’t the place for you. That, despite your popularity and how many people were kind to you, you found your high school and the entire city to be shallow and unwelcoming.

“That’s just Phoenix Drop High. A bunch of stuck up rich kids that think they’re better than everyone else. Don’t worry about that,” he told you, his voice low so he didn’t wake his sleeping family. “You’re a magnet. There might be really shitty people, but you also attract the good ones. Like Sasha.”

And you had gone silent for a moment. Of course there were a couple good people. Like Sasha, but also like Katelyn and Lucinda and Aphmau and your entire friend group, really. Even if they were stuck up rich kids, they were good at their cores.

In that silence between the two of you, the only noise passing through being the soft buzz of the phone line, you took in Gene’s words. There were good people—even ones that seemed unlikely.

“Like you,” you had replied. Your voice was soft, and if Gene didn’t know you he might’ve thought you were hesitant to say it. Or that you didn’t mean it.

But you did. He knew you did. His breath had hitched—so quietly that it was entirely possible to think you had imagined it. Another moment of silence enveloped the two of you as he took in your words. In the quiet, you had started to run your finger against the seam of your stuffed chicken. Had you said the wrong thing?

“Yeah.” His voice finally broke the silence, quiet and low in a way that was different than it had been. It was almost disbelieving. “If that’s what you wanna believe, bunny.”

So yes, you had grown to enjoy his company. Weirdly, Gene had become some sort of rock for you—someone you could confide in and tell things that you were hesitant to admit even to Katelyn.

But you didn’t like him. No, you really didn’t. You had just become fond of him. You weren’t going to let what anyone said gaslight you into liking him (or admitting that you did like him). A similar thing had happened with Laurance, and look how that turned out. You’d cried in your room for weeks and dug yourself into a hole that had been nearly impossible to climb out of.

So no. You wouldn’t let yourself like Gene. You were declaring Gene Accardi off limits for a million reasons. He had a horrendous reputation, none of your friends liked him, he was Dante’s brother.

Falling for Gene was a terrible move. If life were a game of chess, then making that move would get yourself checkmated before you could even do anything about it. With everyone’s assumptions and words, you were in check. You needed to move and keep your king safe.

Unfortunately, you never could grasp the concept of chess.

—

Sasha’s house was just as homey on the inside as it was outside. There was a number of plants everywhere, climbing up the walls outside and flowering into pretty blooms inside. It would have felt cluttered if the house weren’t so big.

It was Sasha’s mom that had met you at the door. She’d told you to call her Zizi and to remove your shoes in the foyer before she led you to a windowless room. It was mostly empty, but in the middle there was an array of blankets and pillows arranged in what you could only describe as a nest of some sort. Zenix, Gene, and Sasha were either sitting or lying on the blankets, and the three of them were scrolling through a long list of movies.

Zenix was the only one that initially turned at the sound of the door opening. He offered you an awkward smile and wave, greeting you to bring attention to the fact that you were even there.

Gene turned next. You might have imagined it, but at the sight of you his eyes lit up. You gave them a soft smile before fully entering the room, closing the door behind you and setting your old backpack down on the mass of pillows.

“What is that?” Gene asked as you tossed your stuffed Stardew Valley chicken to Sasha. Her entire expression lit up once she was hit with it, and immediately she held it in her arms tight.

“It’s a stuffed chicken, Gene,” you replied. You kept your tone straight to emphasize that it was an obvious fact. Zenix snickered, which you considered a win since you figured he was pretty stone faced and quiet about most things. He was probably why Gene knew so much about everyone.

“Obviously it’s a chicken, Y/n.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because who has a giant chicken?”

“Uhm. Me, obviously.” You rolled your eyes, settling yourself on the blankets next to Gene.

“Are you disrespecting Benedict?” Sasha asked. When you looked over she was looking at Gene with a raised brow and a nasty side eye, covering the chicken’s eyes like she was protecting it from an unseemly sight.

“Who the hell is Benedict?”

“The chicken!” you and Sasha exclaimed at the same time.

“What kind of name is Benedict?”

“Like eggs benedict, Gene. You idiot,” Zenix cut in. You were grateful for it because finally, someone who understood the joke in the name without you needing to explain it.

“Because chickens lay eggs,” Sasha added.

Gene blinked at the three of you before softly shaking his head and laying back on the blankets. “I think you three are a little”—he whistled, lifting his hand to tap his temple—“up here.”

You smacked Gene with a nearby pillow, making Sasha and Zenix burst out laughing. In response, Gene got a firm grip on the pillow—his hands above yours, his callouses rubbing against your skin—and pulled you forward. You slid over him without much fight, yelping when he pulled the pillow out of your hands and laid an arm across your waist to keep you down as he tossed it out of your reach.

“You’re a brat,” he said, though it was through a laugh and his tone was lighthearted. You tried wiggling out of his grasp, but Gene kept a stubborn arm around you.

“And you’re mean,” you laughed. You kicked until you could finally shift away. You rolled over, out of Gene’s reach and sat back up. You were still laughing, so you missed the conspiratorial glance Sasha and Zenix shared.

On the TV—a big one, and you only realized then that Sasha had a proper movie room with a surround sound system—your other two friends had pulled up Sasha’s personal collection of movies. Ones she owned based on the word OWNED in the upper left corner.

“Okay, guys. What are we watching?” Sasha asked.

“The Shining.”

“Terrifier.”

It went silent for a moment, the trio of troublemakers looking over at you expectantly. Your eyes widened upon the realization that they were waiting for your answer. You blinked at them, thinking. They probably wanted you to say some sort of horror movie.

“I’m gonna be honest,” you started, holding your hands up in surrender, “the only scary movies I’ve ever seen is Scream and a 1920 silent film version of Phantom of the Opera.”

Sasha snickered. “Of course you’ve only seen Scream.”

You glared at her. You considered saying something, but Zenix unknowingly saved Sasha from whatever retort you had.

“Isn’t Phantom of the Opera a romance?” he asked, brows furrowed in skepticism.

“Actually”—you saw Gene roll his eyes in your peripheral, and you playfully swatted his shoulder—”it wasn’t really considered a romance until Andrew Lloyd Webber turned it into a musical. Before that the takes on it were mostly horror.”

Zenix hummed. He seemed indifferent to the information. Then again, he always seemed that way. He wasn’t very inclined to make many expressions or talk, at least not when you were around.

Who knew. Maybe he was different when it was just Gene and Sasha.

“So have you never seen any Tim Burton movies?” Gene asked, tilting his head back to look at you. He still laid on the floor next to you.

“Well, yeah. But I wouldn’t say Tim Burton is scary. It’s more creepy, you know,” you reasoned, shrugging. Gene nodded thoughtfully, probably going through an internal list of other movies

“Okay. Since our precious Y/n is new to horror”—Sasha reached over and gave you an affectionate pat on the head—“our options are now Christine and The Sixth Sense. Any preference?”

“Christine’s good.”

“Yeah. Nice and unsettling.”

“Christine it is.”

You raised a brow, looking between the three of them. Just like three peas in a pod, they were. “Christine?”

“Yup. It’s about a car that kills people because it’s jealous,” Gene mused. You knew he was watching for your reaction to the information because he laughed at your furrowed brows and slightly agape lips.

“What?” That was really the only thing that could express how you felt. It encapsulated it perfectly, actually. “What do you mean a car gets jealous?”

Sasha shushed you. “Watch the movie.”

She turned your head to the TV, where the movie had already started and the camera followed a factory line of old fashioned cars, before standing up to turn off the overhead light. You paid attention, watching with intrigue as the cherry red car cruised along the screen. You gasped when the car’s hood slammed down on a worker’s hand. Your jaw dropped when a different employee stepped inside it and was shown dead because of it just a few clips later.

Okay, an angry car was understandable now. But how was it jealous?

You got your answer a couple minutes later.

At some point, Sasha’s mom came into the room with a tray of arranged snacks and drinks. She set it down on the edge of the pile of blankets before leaving after all four of you had thanked her. By the time the movie ended, your eyebrows had furrowed in disbelief so much you were starting to get a headache.

“Never in my life did I think I would witness a car experiencing jealousy,” you said as the credits rolled. You softly shook your head. “If you told me this morning I would be watching a movie about a killer car I would’ve called you crazy and whacked you over the head.”

“Did you like it at least?” Zenix asked. You didn’t know how to answer his question because yes, you did enjoy it. More than you had anticipated. You did not like how there was no explanation for why the car was evil. Were you just supposed to believe it was made bad and not possessed? Surely there was something else.

You ended up nodding because your enjoyment from it outweighed your questions. Truth be told, you’d probably never think about it again.

The four of you continued watching movies until early morning Saturday. It was nearly three in the morning by the time you decided it was time to leave. As you gathered your things and your trash to throw away on the way out, Gene offered to drive you home. You politely refused, and instead he insisted on at least walking to your car.

The very short walk from Sasha’s TV room to your used car was more awkward than you wanted it to be and seemed to take centuries. Never in your life had you felt more tense, and it was all because this silent moment with Gene reminded you of all the shit you had been asked throughout the week. All the people commenting on the alleged spark you and him had.

You told yourself it didn’t exist until Gene held open the driver side door for you. Then you told yourself he was just being a gentleman because he was rich and was probably raised that way.

He tapped on the glass when you turned the car on. You rolled the window down and he leaned forward, crossing his arms against the frame of the car.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my car, Gene,” you said, leaning back in your seat. Your hands were settled in your lap, and to avoid fidgeting with anything you quietly tapped your hands against your thighs.

Gene shrugged. “I wanted to. You never know what kind of big bad wolves are out here.” You rolled your eyes at his jest, moving to jokingly roll the window back up before his hand intercepted yours. It was warm, just like your face was slowly becoming. “Fair tomorrow?”

You nodded, hoping it shook you out of whatever stupor holding his hand had put you in. “Obviously. I love the Fall Festival.”

Gene smiled. “Alright. I’ll come pick you up at ten?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” You really didn’t want to be in an enclosed space with Gene. Not when so many detrimental things were making themselves apparent to you.

“I’m driving Sasha and Zenix anyway.” He let go of your hand, straightening up to his usual height. “I don’t mind. I’ll come pick you up at ten.”

You weren’t really given much of a choice to respond because after saying that, Gene turned and stared back to Sasha’s house. You watched in slight disbelief, appalled that he would just leave you like that, as he stepped up onto her porch.

“Okay!” you shouted after him. You waved your arm out the window in a what the hell? motion. Your expression would have added to the display, but unfortunately it was dark and Gene couldn’t see you clearly through the window tint.

At least he waited until you were out of the driveway to walk back into the yellow house. The jerk.

A jerk you wouldn’t mind spending even more time with. Alone.

The thought crossed your mind without realization, and you were left driving down the road in a trancelike state. What was that supposed to mean? Obviously you didn’t mind spending more time with him. Gene was your friend. You liked your friends and often wanted to spend time with them.

You pulled up to a red light and pulled to a stop, debating whether or not you wanted to call him upon your arrival home. As you considered it, your thoughts crashed into each other like two freight trains as the most obvious revelation seemed to finally dawn on you.

You liked Gene. Fuck.

You resisted the urge to honk your horn in frustration.

double update what??? who am I???

y'all gonna like the next chapter trust. I have big plans

TAGGING: @garrothswiferealnotfake @wasting-away-on-the-internet @mellozhi @pushingdaisies1 @orinlin @luckygirldotgov @snowblossomsx @lucciluvr @oliemolliever @endo-bunny @purpledsun @angelhyperfixates @angelarabella @dontcrackyourpinkytoes @siochandess @flynnbee @neptunesfantasies @natpakk @thehumanartist @khoizen @baguettetaylorsversion @tomzgutz @revxwrites @fartmonster98 @1-800-avs @afellow-simp if you’d like to be part of the taglist let me know!

next part >>

#dahlia’s dreams ☾#aphmau #aphverse #aphblr #mystreet #pdh #phoenix drop high #gene mystreet #gene minecraft diaries #phoenix drop high gene #gene phoenix drop high #gene pdh #aphmau gene #gene x reader #aphmau gene x reader #gene aphmau x reader #gene aphmau #minecraft diaries gene

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