#sentry imagine

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings: mmm minor spoilers BUT if you’ve seen marvel’s social media accounts as of late, the posters/asterick reveal specifically, you already know. oh and drug mention and very light mental health issues

a/n: cant wait for higher quality gifs……

not requested

Bob nervously stood in the frame of your door with a hairbrush clutched between both his hands. He stared down at the ground with his long curls blocking his view of you ever so slightly, then cleared his throat just loud enough to announce his presence. “Y/N?” He shuffled his feet timidly and you looked up from your laptop, working up new logos and team names just in case Sam Wilson actually did file for copyright.

“Yeah?” You gave him a soft expression to assure him he wasn’t disturbing you, a small curl of your lips to put him at ease. His body language was…typical, but starting to ease up day by day. He was making progress. You looked him up and down and noticed what was he held in his hands.

“Could you…help me brush my hair?” Bob’s voice was low and somewhat rough. You could see his hair was a little bit messy, but no different than usual. “It’s hard sometimes. I’m tired.” He tried to explain and you patted the space next to you on your bed, welcoming to sit beside you. “Thank you.”

You took the brush from his hand, but before beginning with the tool provided, you started with your fingers. Your nails against his scalp calmed him more than any drug he’d ever gotten his hands on. You gently worked out any knots that may have otherwise got caught in the bristles of the hairbrush and hurt him. Bob’s eyes had been closed a few minutes now, his thoughts at ease, and a weight lifted from his shoulders. Once you saw fit, you took the brush and began slowly pulling it through his brown curls. Bob asking for help was a step in the right direction, and you felt content that he asked you. Made you feel like you were heading in the right direction, too.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[gay-dorito-dust]

What about how Bob, Sentry, and The Void would react if you got hurt/injured? Physically and/or emotionally?

Bob- kindhearted caretaker.

The second Bob is aware that you were hurt, he's trying his best to lessen the pain while also trying to calm himself from thinking the worst. He didn't like seeing you hurt , he didn't want you hurt but most importantly he didn't want to just stand on the sidelines and do nothing, he wanted to help however he could while keeping Void and Sentry at bay in the process.

Bob didn't want to think about what either of them would do should they find you hurt first instead of him. He really didn't.

So he counted it as a blessing that he found you as while he was worried to the point he couldn't breath properly until he had gotten you somewhere safe, somewhere where he could have easy access to an first aid kit. He would make sure to ask if you were okay and if he was in any way hurting you while patching you up, stopping now and then to press kisses to your forhead and or your temples as he does so, and making sure he wasn't loosing sight on what was most important: you.

The team can handle the rest of the mission -not that Bob had any doudts that they wouldn't- as it meant that he could focus on you and helping you heal, making sure he was by your side very step of the way to make sure you didn't suffer from any sort of discomfort, even offering to act as your crutch at some points should he see that you were struggling to stand on your own. Bob would try and make your situation more comfortable however he could, change your bandages, make you food, keep you company and read to you and make sure you were taking any medication should you need it to nullifiy the pain.

Anything he could do in hopes to get your -and his- mind off of the pain you were under by being there for you and being that grounding presence that you needed to give you strength. He was worried half to death when you were hurt but quickly takes his position as your caretaker to heart and would do everything to the best of his ability in keeping you healthy and happy, even if you were bedbound, Bob would do without hesitation. It makes him feel useful while he was still understanding his powers.

Sentry- overbearing protector.

Sentry is pissed to say the least. He was meant to be this powerful being, this golden guardian of good, and yet he had somehow had allowed for you to be hurt due to his lapse in judgement. He was meant to keep you safe and far, far away from harm and those who could cause you great harm.

He can heal you with just a simple touch, so like Bob, you were his first and primary focus as he healed your wounds with a flash of golden light that faded to reveal newly healed skin as though you were never hurt at all. Though while your injuries were now no issue, the anger and feeling frustraighted at himself stayed within him for far longer, not liking the idea that the people who had hurt you were most likely still out there.

Sentry would ask how many people were involved and if they were still in the building, if they were then Sentry would most likely keep you in a room somewhere while he handeled buissness. However if they weren't within the building then Sentry would stay guard and keep watch over you closely, protecting you from any potential threats that he deemed could hurt you.

He wouldn't allow you to stay far from him, he wouldn't allow it, he still suspected that the people who had hurt you the first time would come back, or another group of people who hurt you in the future. Sentry took his position as your protector seriously and didn't take to you doing anything he didn't approve of even if you were fully healed, he was still cuatious and would check the entire tower, every single floor thouroughly within mintues before feeling it safe for you to journey without him hovering over you.

Yet there's no point in expecting him to completely leave you alone, for now Sentry doubted the Watchtower was adequet for your safety, only he -sentry- could keep you safe and this had proven just that.

Void- the brutal judge, jury and exacutioner

Void didn't allow any room for the assalents that hurt you any room to breath in the slightest as they were immeidetly made into shadows on the wall with the wave of his hand. He didn't take too kindly to people hurting his little dove, his little daydream, so why sould he allow them a second longer to live while you were writhing in pain?

He didn't see the point as soon enough there were shadows of those had a hand in your hurt, or were just there by assosiation, no one but you was left untouched. He didn't allow any further threats to you to live either, he had pratically eliminated anyone or anything that Void truly believed would only cause you futher harm then you were already in.

He didn't care if the threat was small or non-existance they were rid of with a wave of his hand, erradicating their threat with them in the process. No one should harm you, nor would ever harm you with Void inolved as he would make it clear as day of what the consequences would be known and feared, a stark reminder for what would happen should this situation be repated again.

Void for the rest of the day would act like your guard dog, lurking within the shadows of your room, not trusting anyone that came in to see you or look you over as he watched them closely. He would always linger close by even if you couldn't see him, but he was there even when you were with the team, he didn't trust them to keep you safe as they have shown to fail you before in the past in his pinprick eyes. Void would much rather make everyone pay for your pain ten times over then ever have you be hurt again, you’ve been hurt enough and he’ll gladly be the judge, jury and executioner if it meant passing your pain and hurt onto people he felt were more deserving of it.

[prince-septimus]

calm mornings

pairing : robert reynolds x reader

summary : just two lonely people learning of a thing called affection.

word count : 1.5k

You find yourself staring at him often -- the man with the power of a thousand suns. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of the power he wields because when you see him occasionally sitting in the little corner he's created with books surrounding him and an overlook of New York to add on, you forget the events of a few months ago when the city fell to shadows.

When you see Bob now, all you see is the softness he carries with him, the comfort he brings even after years of not having it for himself. How could someone who has been through so much manage to continue on with such a soft heart?

You guessed the same could be said for the whole team. The ruined assassins who spent part of their lives being brainwashed and tortured. The super soldiers who never did quite reach their potential, and spent their entire lives dwelling on it. The experiments and the suffering and the darkness that the rest of you had endured. The whole team had that in common, and it was something you thought made you better than the Avengers.

The Thunderbolts were a family.

(You always were fond of the nickname, even after having to put that 'A' on your uniform.)

Maybe that's why you would find yourselves gathered late into the night, recapping missions and watching shitty 80s movies. Maybe that was what you all needed to keep the nightmares and dark thoughts away. You all had done bad things, unforgivable things, and yet you could still find yourselves together on a Saturday night fighting over who got the last slice of pizza and picked the next movie.

It was one of those nights you woke up early after. You had only been asleep for a few hours, but the weekends were sometimes a little more peaceful, almost like the job followed that weekday schedule you remembered from school. It was nice sometimes to get up early and drink coffee in a corner somewhere while the sun was still rising. Usually you were left alone during that time.

This morning you were not alone.

The coffee machine is still dripping the last dregs into the pot when you hear his quiet footsteps. The others had tried to convince you to get a better coffee pot -- one of the ones with a million buttons that made all sorts of espresso drinks and could add different things. You're sure that sort of appliance was here when the building belonged to Tony Stark, but you liked your tried and true, traditional pot. Even if it was a bit loud.

"Made enough for two?"

Bob's voice is still full of sleep. You wonder if he actually fell asleep or just dozed like he did sometimes. He had seemed tired towards the end of the last movie, after everyone had began to settle down, and you hoped that meant he at least got a good few hours in.

You smile gently at him as he pads over to lean against the counter. "I always make a full pot. You know that."

You hadn't bothered with the lights, preferring the soft glow that had started to enter the space as the sun began to rise beyond the windows. You enjoyed this time in the morning, when everything was still quiet and calm. You wondered if he preferred it too.

He leans over you to reach in the cabinet above, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. He looks cozy in his sweater and soft lounge pants, the thick socks on his feet silencing his movements on the floor -- though you wonder how he sleeps like that at night, the layers of fabric confining him in his sleep.

Maybe it makes him feel safe.

"Can you grab the creamer from the fridge?" you ask, beginning to fill each cup from the pot. You leave a bit of space in each mug for the added components you both enjoy.

Everything is so still as you watch Bob stroll across the kitchen, grabbing the required item before padding back towards you. He gives you a small smile as you finish off both cups of coffee before handing his to him.

He cradles it in his hands as he looks at you. "You're up early."

"I always am." You take a sip, careful not to burn your tongue. "Any bad dreams?"

He shakes his head. "The nightmares aren't as frequent now. It's been easier."

Your mind goes back to when all of you first moved into the tower. It was the easiest way to go about things, being listed as the New Avengers. You all were in close proximity when needed, and even though Bob currently didn't go on missions, he still was around and had his own room just like everyone else. He liked to keep the place put together and cleaned up when the rest of you didn't have the time to. He told you once that it was because he finally had the motivation to do it after years of being in a daze.

You had been to his room several times over the months. It had become almost as familiar as your own to you, with books covering every surface.

(Most of them finished, as Bob did not like to buy a new one until he finished the previous.)

The nightmares were immediate in the beginnings of Bob's stay. It didn't come as a surprise. All of you had your own demons, as proven by the Void months ago, but something told you being stuck in his nightmares was a whole different beast.

You didn't want him to go through that alone.

It had started slow, you keeping him company on those nights. You couldn't stop the nightmares, but you could offer a break from them, an ease of the conscious. At some point it had transitioned into the sleeping in the room together, still keeping each other company but finally taking advantage of that much needed sleep when you both felt it coming on.

Then it turned into sleeping in the same bed. That was after one really bad night. Neither of you were sure what brought the nightmares on so strongly, but they hit you both and you ended up in each other's arms, begging the bad dreams to leave you be.

Eventually they did, and eventually you never left.

It wasn't exactly a relationship -- you weren't sure either of you were ready to label it as such, or even fully address that as an option. The signs were there, very much so, cradled in those shared nights and castaway nightmares, but the trauma bond was clear and neither of you wanted to base your entire future off of that.

"I didn't notice you leave the bed."

You grin. "You never do. You sleep like a log when you're peaceful." Another sip. "But seriously, no bad dreams after I got up?"

Sometimes when you were away on missions and Bob found himself alone in the bed, those nightmares came back. Sometimes he'd call you. Sometimes he wouldn't.

"Nothing. It was nice."

His hair falls into his eyes when he dips his head down to take a drink from his mug. He had got it cut after everyone moved into the Tower, a small trim to hold him over and to appease everyone as his hair got just a bit too shaggy. You liked it -- the length on top and the short bits on the side -- and thought it suited him better than what he awoke with in that room where he had been stored away.

You reach up to run your hand through it, Bob leaning into your touch. Your fingers slide across his short curls, gently straightening the bed head out.

Bob reaches up to cradle your hand in his, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm.

The kisses were a more recent thing, a testing of the boundaries. You and Bob had both gone without a real sort of relationship for so long that a lot of things were practically a new thing, an experiment. It was a way for you both to see how far you wanted to take things, and so far neither of you had said to stop.

"Got plans today?" you ask, careful not to let your coffee spill in your grasp as you push against him, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

A soft smile just for you. "Nothing that involves going out anywhere."

You scoff. "You never go out anyway."

"Not ready for that just yet."

You pull softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "Wanna go watch a movie?"

He leans to brush a kiss to your cheek. "That all you want to do?"

You let out a laugh, pulling back from him when his lips run across your ear. His free arm snakes behind you and pulls you back to him. A few drops of coffee splatter between the two of you. "There's always more we can be doing."

"Nothing we don't want to, of course."

You smile wide as his arm squeezes your waist. "Of course."

[day-dreamed]

turn out the lights

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader summary: when a severe thunderstorm hits nyc, you go to bob in hopes that he can assuage your fears. tags: fluff, comfort, avoidant!reader if u squint, reader is scared of thunderstorms, swearing, cuddling, pet names, bed sharing!!!!!! word count: 766 author’s note: ohhh bob is so sweet i love him :(( lmk what u think if u want to but if not that’s fine too <3

The rain pelts against your bedroom windows. A loud crash of thunder seems to shake the entire tower, causing you to jump and grip the sheets beneath you, your heart beating loud in your ears. You glance over at the clock sitting on your night stand, the glowing red numbers telling you that it’s close to one am. When the idea of going to Bob for comfort pops into your head, you debate with yourself on whether you should or not. The thought of doing it terrifies you, but you know you won’t be getting any sleep for the rest of the night if you’re by yourself.

With a deep breath, you throw the covers off and slip out of bed. A shiver crawls up your spine when your feet hit the cold floor. After you grab a sweatshirt from your closet and shrug it on, you head out of your room and make your way toward Bob’s. Butterflies fill your stomach at the thought of knocking on his door this late, him answering with a sleepy look on his face and his hair all messed up. Slowly, you pad down the hall to his bedroom door and raise your fist to knock.

You pause. 

What if he’s still asleep? You don’t want to wake him. Or he could turn you away, not in the mood for company at this late (early) hour. These kinds of thoughts run rampant in your mind for a good few minutes when suddenly the door swings open without you having laid a finger on the doorknob.

You’re frozen, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Bob rubs his eyes and squints at you, mumbling your name softly.

“What’re you doing up?” he asks, stepping aside and shutting the door gently behind you.

It takes a moment for your brain to register his question and form a response. “I… I couldn’t sleep. ‘Cause of the storm,” you say lamely. 

“You’re afraid of thunderstorms?” 

“It’s silly, I know.” 

“No, it’s not. I get scared of them too, sometimes,” he says, voice soft. 

Your gaze snaps back up to his, lips parting in surprise. “Really?” 

Bob nods, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a small smile. “Yeah. It’s… it’s normal, you know. Nothing to be ashamed about.”  

“I know,” you murmur, cheeks growing warm. 

He pauses for a moment, seeming to think over something before he speaks again. “You—You can sleep with me, if you want.” 

You swear your heart stops beating for a second. “What?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Shit. That’s not—I meant in my bed with me. Not… the other thing,” he splutters, face turning a deep shade of red that’s visible enough for you to notice in the dim lighting. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything—”

“It’s okay,” you say, breathing out a laugh. “I got what you meant. Just… you caught me off guard, that’s all. Are you sure you don’t mind sharing a bed? I can sleep on the floor.” 

Bob looks at you like that’s the craziest idea he’s ever heard. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.” Your stomach flips as you walk over to his bedside. He slips under the covers and glances over at you, frowning. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Just—I’m used to sleeping by myself.”

As you slide into bed next to him, you desperately hope that he isn’t able to hear how loud your heart is pounding. You lay there, stiff as a board, afraid that if you move even the slightest inch that he’ll send you back to your room. 

He whispers your name softly, causing you to jump. “I don’t mind, y’know. If—If you take up space.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, voice small. 

A loud boom of thunder prevents him from answering. You flinch, sinking even further into the sheets. Bob scoots closer to you and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“I… I can hold you. If you want. I’m not sure if that will help, but—”

“Please.” 

Faster than you can blink, his arms are wrapped securely around you. You freeze just for a second before you let yourself relax. You’re not sure, but you swear you hear his breath hitch when you nestle into him, your cheek resting against his chest. The thump of his heartbeat in your ear is like white noise, instantly causing your eyes to grow heavy with sleep.

“Bob?” you mumble, just before you drift off. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” 

His arms give you a gentle squeeze. “You’re welcome, baby.”

[lovebugism]

reader taking care of bob (thunderbolts) during a depressive episode? 🥹

ty for requesting!! — you like taking care of bob on his bad days. he isn't quite sure why (friends in love, fluff, thunderbolts spoilers, cw for mentions of depression and suicidal ideation | 1.4k words)

Bob has his bad days. And he’s not just talking about that stint in New York.

Sometimes he can’t get out of bed, can’t take care of himself, can’t go outside. There are days when he can’t find a reason to be an actual functioning human being, so he takes to rotting in his room — and trying not to suffocate beneath the crushing knowledge that the rest of the world is living on just fine without him. 

He’ll hear the rest of the team laughing or otherwise arguing a floor below, while he hasn’t spoken a word all day because he can’t find the energy to. He’ll go to sleep without having left the four walls of his bedroom, or his bed for that matter, while fighting the black shroud of death that never quite seems to leave him.

It’s been that way his whole life: constant cycles of great days followed by the no-good-very-bad ones that he’s always distantly fearful might be the end of him. So Bob counts himself lucky that he’s got you for those days, and all the days in between. 

“I think the blonde’s finally washed out,” you observe gently as you brush through his freshly washed curls. You get a whiff of the strawberry-scented shampoo with every swipe of the comb from where you sit just behind him on the bed. Bob, meanwhile, slouches on the floor between your legs and fiddles nervously with one of the many skincare products you’ve stacked beside him.

This is often what your “sleepovers” look like — which is what you call the many nights where the rest of the team’s out on a mission and you’re left babysitting the leftovers. (Bob’s almost certain you only call it that so you have an excuse to take care of him.)

“Really?” Bob hums distantly, fighting back a shiver. He’d much rather blame his chills on the water droplets falling from his hair and dampening the neck of his white t-shirt than the fact that he’s just not used to being touched so gently. Not used to being touched at all. 

“Yeah,” you say with an audible smile. “I like your hair better this way.”

Bob scoffs pessimistically. “Shit brown?”

“It’s more like chocolate. Or chestnut, maybe— with little flakes of gold.”

Something in your words strikes him deep. Makes his chest go all warm and sparkly. He doesn’t know how you see such beauty in him when he can hardly look in the mirror without snarling in disgust most days. You still think he’s got so much good left in him, even after Valentina made him hurt you, even after he nearly took out a whole city without blinking. 

He doesn’t get it. 

In fact, the thought alone makes him so dizzy that his head starts to hurt. 

“I— I’m sorry about this,” Bob apologizes through a breathy, awkward laugh. “Just— By the way.”

“Sorry about what?”

“You, you know, having to take care of me and everything.”

“Don’t apologize,” you giggle and drag the brush from his temple, around the curve of his ear, and down towards his neck. “I like taking care of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Bob chuckles with a stubborn shake of his head.

“I do. Honest.” 

The mattress squeaks when you rise from it. Bob tilts his chin and peers up at you with a pair of dark, glittering eyes as you round him. “So… what?” he lilts with a shy half-smile. “You’d rather be here than off fighting crime with the New Avengers?”

“Yes,” you answer automatically, scoffing like it’s obvious, as you sit on the ground across from him. You settle between his parted legs with your own curled beneath you and twist the cap off of something that says deep hydrating face cream.

“I would much rather be here with you than god knows where with Walker trying to tell everyone what to do, and Ava and Yelena shouting at him, and Bucky trying to shout over all of them, and…”

You trail off. The lid unscrews with a quiet pop. You flash Bob a shy smile and a pair of squinted eyes. “Basically, what I’m saying is this is practically heaven compared to that.”

Bob’s face flares. He shakes his head and looks away. His eyes find a rogue piece of glitter in your carpet and lock there. “You don’t mean that…”

“Actually, I do—” You swipe two fingers through the white lotion and set it off to the side. “—Here. Look at me.”

You shift an inch towards him and lift a hand towards his face. Bob flinches on instinct despite wanting you so much closer. “Sorry,” he apologizes, ‘cause that’s his instinct, too.

Your eyes go wide and dart worriedly across his face. “Did I do something?”

“No! No, it’s not— It’s not you,” Bob stammers with his eyes squeezed shut. “It’s— It’s me. I don’t wanna…”

His voice breaks, fragile as glass, and he trails off. He doesn’t have the words for it — what he did to you, how he did it. He only knows that you saved his life, and touched his hand, and saw something that terrified you. He doesn’t know what it was, only that he won’t forget how frightened of him you looked.

You don’t look so scared of him now, though.

Instead, you look at him with your eyes wide and full of hope — like you love being this close to him, like you can’t wait to get closer. 

“You won’t. I promise.”

This time, when you reach for him, you do it slowly. You give him ample time to stop you before you cup his jaw in your hand, slightly scruffy and still flushed from a steaming shower. You cradle his face in your palms without a vision of a long-gone horror flashing across your eyelids. You just feel safe. Warm. A strange sort of happy emotion that still makes you feel like crying.

“See?” you lilt with a sunshine smile. 

Bob swallows hard as your fingertips swipe softly across his face. Your middle and ring fingers trace over the dark circles under his eyes in a feather-light touch as you rub in the moisturizer. Your fingertips follow his cheekbones as they rise to his temples before sliding down and across his stubbly jaw.

He keeps his eyes shut as he tries hopelessly to recall the last time he was ever touched this gently — if he ever has before — if he even deserves it.

“That day…” he starts suddenly, slowly. “You know, the day you guys found me…”

“Mhm?” you hum to egg him on.

“When you pulled me up out of that elevator…” Bob’s dark eyes flutter open again, swimming with honey and apprehension. “What did you see?”

He watches you falter, but only briefly. It’s a faint flicker in your eye that he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t already notice everything about you.

Your face twitches slightly, like his question single-handedly brings back the dreaded memories you’ve been trying to shove down for years.

“Uh, Hydra,” you stammer, swallowing hard and sitting back on your haunches. You can’t find the strength to meet his gaze, so you focus on your hands as you rub the remaining moisturizer into your palms. “I came back from a mission I couldn’t finish— A children’s hospital full of ‘failed test subjects’ that wanted me to get rid of, and I couldn’t do it… And they punished me for it.”

You decide to save him the gritty, bloody details of what had happened to you that day, but Bob still flinches like he knows everything you’re not telling him. He feels like he does, in a way. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when he can’t find the words to say.

You flash him a quiet smile and a soft look beneath your lashes. “It’s not your fault.”

Bob scoffs an emotionless laugh. “Well, I mean, it kinda is—”

You reach suddenly for his face again, and his eyes go wide. Your touch is still as gentle as ever, but stern still, as you force him to meet your gaze. “It isn’t,” you repeat with an unyielding stare. “And, you know, despite the circumstances and everything, my life’s actually gotten a whole lot better since you’ve been in it.”

Bob’s face burns at your confession, even more so at your touch. “...Really?” is all he can squeak out.

“Really,” you echo with a firm nod.

He shifts awkwardly, uncomfortable in his skin, and tilts his cheek further into your palm “Like… Even on my bad days?” he mumbles, distantly dreading the answer.

“Especially on your bad days,” you laugh. “‘Cause you’re the only one that lets me braid your hair.”

“That’s the only reason why you like me?” Bob laughs, trying to play it cool even though his hopeful eyes give everything away. “‘Cause I let you braid my hair?”

You smile at his smiling. “Mhm. The only reason,” you nod, obviously playful in a way that makes his heart skip a beat (or three). “Nothing else at all.”

[nghtwngs]

soft currents next to you

description: there is falling in love. there is also falling into another universe. there is also falling in love again.

pairing: robert “bob” reynolds x batgirl!reader, dick grayson x batgirl!reader [unrequited]

genre: angst, fluff, smut [see warnings below], friends to lovers, unrequited love, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, slow burn, found family, crossover, hanahaki au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, semi-graphic depictions of a fictional terminal illness [hanahaki disease], themes of mental illness, mentions of drug abuse, addiction, and recovery [bob], doesn’t follow any specific dick grayson canon so the timeline might be kinda weird [you don’t need to know anything if you’re only here for bob], mostly thunderbolts* canon-compliant and obviously spoilers, she/her pronouns used to refer to reader, implied masturbation, skippable smut scene near end: fingering, oral [fem-receiving], unprotected sex [stay safe, guys; this is just a fic], creampie, subtle dom/sub undertones [reader seriously needs a break and i’m a softdom!bob truther], hints of dumbification [i’m also indulgent]

Лена, ты слышишь? [Lena, you hear that?]

a/n: as a dick grayson girl, writing him not returning reader’s feelings tears a piece of my soul away, but i gotta do it for the fic. idk if this idea is way too niche or not but thanks to @b4tgirlz for being a real one and the only person i can talk comics [& obsess over fictional men] with

It itches. Love itches, you mean. Not for everyone, not for the lucky ones. But that’s how it begins for you: with an itch. It’s the kind you can’t scratch. All you can do is suffer and suppress it, clear your throat over and over until Dick starts to look concerned even though you’re not the one in the hospital bed right now. There are million other faces here. You feel like they’re all staring. And then you cough some more, feigning temporary illness. You’re temporarily ill often these days. That’s when you finally excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You wonder if you’d see pity on their faces if you look back.

The flowers claw their way out of your throat as if they’re covered in thorns. Like they’re badgers blindly burrowing out of the tunnel that’s your esophagus. You carefully avoid touching the toilet seat. Your coughs begin to fill up every inch of the room, echoing off the tile. You don’t have to worry about someone hearing you. The rest of the stalls are empty. You checked. You don’t have to risk seeing a stranger look at you with pity, or even worse, a person you know. You don’t even want to think about that.

The mess you’re making might have even been pretty if you didn’t know what it meant, where it came from. It seems rather ironic for such a thing to be so beautiful, but people have been seeing beauty in pain and suffering for centuries, so in some sadistic way, it’s sort of beautiful. The petals always come before the whole flowers, almost as if to prepare you for it. Still, you’re never prepared.

It’s violently red today; generally, a bad sign.

You pick up a stray blue petal from the floor between your fingers, letting it whirl down into the toilet. You wipe the blood off the seat with toilet paper. There’s a sign above the seat covers. ‘Don’t flush flowers.’

Why should you care? Your throat is sore. You’re dying. You’re sure you’d find the disposal box, the one specifically made for the flowers, empty anyway. You flush.

You unlock the stall, walking over to the sink. Your reflection stares back at you with bleary eyes and a hard frown. It’s a sight you’ve grown familiar to. You’re quickly wiping the stray tears off your cheeks and your eyes with the back of your hands. Deep breath. In. Out.

You scrub your hands clean with soap. Again. Again. And again. Specifically, that spot between your fingers. You can still feel it. The flower petal. Soaked and dripping onto your finger. Red. The water is scorching. It gets rid of the feeling.

It’s only the squeak of the door opening that makes you pull away. Like your hands weren’t numb. You pretend like you didn’t just flinch from the sound. You stare down at your hands for a moment before drying them off and exiting the restroom. You don’t spare the stranger a glance.

There was only one home for you, and it was here, in Dick Grayson’s soft bed. For a teenage boy, his room was pretty pristine. For Dick, it embodied the Wonder Boy he was. You’re too tired to continue watching Jeopardy, Dick guessing nearly all of the questions correctly while Wally huffs as he gets nearly all of them wrong. It took him a few episodes to realize you’re supposed to answer with the question because he kept leaving to grab more food. (You’ll help poor Alfred restock the cabinets later, even when he kindly waves off your help. But he’ll eventually relent. He always does.) Wally pouts, quickly speeding to the kitchen to find more snacks for himself to fill up the endless void of his appetite.

Dick’s shoulder somehow manages to be comfortable, and you feel the tugs of the Dreaming, wrapping its delicate hand around your head, pulling you away.

“Goodnight,” you hear faintly when the Sandman opens his gates for you.

You dream of Dick Grayson that night. Like you do every other one.

The mission was supposed to be easy. So easy, in fact, that they sent the Teen Titans out. You were still settling into the team, practically clinging to Robin as much as you could—much to Kid Flash’s dismay—since he was your best friend—also much to Wally’s dismay.

But you wake up dizzy, your head held by your Robin, who you’ve never seen so worried. Normally the most calm and collected one, besides you, Dick slipped into his leader role easily. He holds your head like you’re made of glass, and you can barely make out a few of his words.

Explosion… Down. No. Yes. One. Batman… Help.

His voice, although panicked, is soothing enough for you to slip back into unconsciousness. You don’t even hear him crying ‘Batgirl!’ to get you to return to him.

While recovering from the various injuries you had sustained, you’ve developed a weird cough that won’t go away, even when you take that wonderful Chinese cough syrup three times a day for a full fortnight. That stuff has always worked like a charm for that pesky lingering cough you sometimes get after a cold. On the fourth week, you get terribly annoyed and go see the doctor. They try every scan on the planet (and the galaxy). They tell you there’s nothing wrong but to return if it gets worse.

The prescription-grade cough syrup tastes much worse than Pei Pa Koa.

The coughing does get worse when you spot them one night: Dick has his arm slinked around Kori’s waist, standing a little too close to her to be considered friendly. When she first arrived to Earth, you saw the way Dick’s gaze gravitated towards her. Like everyone else’s, yours did too. She just had that aura about her that made you never want to look away. You think she’s just started up modeling recently. Not for money or anything. Just for fun.

It starts to get blurry, but you think there’s an innocent kiss or a touch or something. You have to get away. People are starting to glance at you because of your incessant coughing. And for some reason, your lungs begin to ache. A constriction roots inside your chest, your hand making a tight fist to dull the pain.

When you go to the bathroom and cough up a single little pink petal instead of the alcohol you’d just consumed, your breath is stolen away by more than just the petal. Denial is a game you love to play, so you flush it quickly down the toilet after staring at it for five minutes. Hanahaki Disease was one of the rarest but most fatal if not resolved quickly.

Surely the world couldn’t curse you that much, could it?

You hear a knock on the door and then that familiar sweet voice you love, asking if you were alright.

Were people really that unlucky?

Two more flower petals have to crawl their way up your throat before you reluctantly step into a doctor’s office again. This time, you don’t go to the Titan’s medical team. You go to someone who claims to be a Hanahaki expert. You feel for those people, the ones who know diseases with no cure like the back of their hand.

When the results come in, both you and the expert stare, horrified, at the x-ray of your lungs. You’d be lucky to make it beyond the end of next year.

New York City is a little different here.

No Batman, no Joker, no Superman—no Nightwing. And who were you if not Dick Grayson’s best friend?

There is no Gotham here, the center of attention on your world for having the highest rate of crime in the world for eighty-six (and counting) consecutive years! Instead, it’s New York City and some parts of Newark that take the brunt of the destruction caused by supervillains, aliens and the like, and superheroes.

The first day you were dropped off into this world, some government agency grabbed you up for interrogation. Twelve hours each day for an entire fortnight like clockwork. Any injuries you sustained were patched up that first day, but your shoulder was still killing you. You’d been on medication for your lung and throat pain already, but the meds they gave you were thankfully a little stronger.

The not-so-friendly agents were assessing whether you were a threat or not to the safety of the American people, but once it was clear your story had no flaws and that you were powerless, they reluctantly gave you proper papers to go about your business until someone—perhaps the new Avengers (whoever they were)—could figure out a way to get you back to your world. Considering this Earth has had its fair share of run-ins with people from other Earths already, your presence wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Still, even after you were freed from government custody, you could feel their eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move. The government was only waiting for the slightest slip-up. It was nice to know you were never alone, even on a different planet.

When Valentina Allegra de Fontaine hears about you, she feels like she struck gold.

Experienced hero plucked right from her earth and dropped right onto this one. All alone and surely in need of some familiar environments—a new home even.

While the Avengers weren’t not getting along, things weren’t exactly smooth sailing either. With the public not exactly accepting them as the new Avengers with open arms, Valentina needed something to bring them some credibility. And now, she thinks she’s found her something.

Immediately, she has Mel reschedule all her meetings that day, so that she could arrange one with you. Shouldn’t be too hard to convince a hero to be a hero now, can it?

It was apparent by your poorly restrained eye rolls and that smile of yours—if you could even call it that—that you were unimpressed by her. But she keeps that grin on her face as she explains to you how helpful your set of skills would be to her and her freshman team, the Avengers.

“With your abilities and prior experience with teamwork as part of the Tights—“

“—Titans.”

She presses her lips together in a sickeningly sweet smile as she corrects herself, “Titans, you’ll be a wonderful fit for my team. None of them have ever been on a team like this before, so it would just be lovely if you could show them a thing or two.”

“Haven’t they been working together for almost a year now? I’ve seen articles.”

Her eyes crinkle again. Valentina nods. “Yeah, but I’m sure you know how it is,” she says with a quiet chuckle.

“I don’t, actually,” you deadpan.

As always, she keeps her head held high, her calm hands sat in her lap. “Well, please consider the offer. I’ll add a generous bonus to it just for you.”

“I don’t need your money, Ms. Fontaine,” you tell her, crossing your arms. “I’d like to go home.”

She kisses her teeth. She’s the one correcting you this time, “De Fontaine.”

You know a bitch when you meet one, but then she offers to fund research for getting you back onto your world if you’ll take a place on the team. Valentina has finally hit the jackpot.

You didn’t like joining teams after they have formed. Not great for bonding when people have already built and burned their bridges, but since you had nothing better to do, you tentatively agree to work with them temporarily while some scientists, and now hers, figure out how to get you home.

Valentina feels like she’s won, but she’s shaking your hand and congratulating you, “Welcome to the Avengers, Batgirl.”

From the news articles you’ve read about the Avengers, New Avengers, B-vengers, whatever… it seems like the public is kinda hot-and-cold with them right now. You wonder if Valentina really believes you’ll boost their ratings.

While you’re not expecting the warmest of welcomes from a team who appears to be a bunch of random people with cool abilities stuck together in Rapunzel’s tower, this is definitely more unpleasant than you had expected it to be.

It also sounds like Valentina just shared with them the news from the obvious apprehension they regard you with.

The elevator ride had been awkwardly long getting up here (which you’re unfortunately used to, considering Bruce likes his Batcaves way below the surface), and now it’s somehow even more awkward. Mel, Valentina’s personal assistant, had been kind to you from the get-go, but you doubt you could trust anybody who willingly works for a monster like Valentina. You also came across the videos of her impeachment trial on YouTube while trying to make sure your favorite creators were also on this Earth.

The woman with the short bleached blonde hair, who you assume is the team’s leader by her assertiveness, tells you her name. Her gaze is reasonably wary but not entirely unkind. Yelena, you learn. The British woman on her left is Ava, also known as Ghost. (Cool name. Thanks.) The man wearing the silly beret is John Walker—Captain America. The giant on Yelena’s right (You heard her call him dad.) is Alexei Shostakov, who boisterously introduces himself as the Red Guardian. He grows twice as excited when he finds out you speak Russian (Лена, he gasps, ты слышишь?), among many other languages. Briefly, Yelena explains that there’s another member, but he won’t return until around six p.m. since Congress closes at five.

You pause to stare at them. “You have a Congressman on this team? Is that even like…? There’s gotta be some conflict of interest there, right?” Each of them shrug at you, clearly never having questioned it before. “Right?”

Christ.

“And we can’t forget,” Alexei starts with a big, toothy smile, holding his palm out towards the person lounging in the chair by the giant window—Is that not a security concern?—“Bob.”

“Bob?” you echo.

They all look at you, nodding. “Bob.”

The man in said chair sits up a little straighter before he meets your eyes with a sheepish smile, returning your little introductory wave. He sets his book down, pretending like he wasn’t already paying attention to this little meet-and-greet going on. Quickly, you realize it’s your turn and lamely introduce yourself to the group.

“Your hero name is… Batgirl?” John snorts.

You glare at him, retorting, “What’s so funny, Captain America?”

Yelena and Ava snicker at each other beside you, murmuring, “Off-brand.”

He huffs, looking at everyone. “Well, fuck you guys.”

“Well, I’d rather not,” you answer, giggling.

“Oh, very funny. Very mature.”

“Don’t mind him. He’s just an asshole,” you hear Bob whisper, having shuffled behind you.

You smile. “Oh, really? Couldn’t tell. Thanks.” You explain to the team, “The name Batgirl is special—it was given to me, and now, since they probably think I’m dead, it will be passed down from me to someone else.”

Yelena says thoughtfully, “Oh, like Captain America… but officially.”

“I was the official Captain America!” John cries out with indignation, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Tell us more,” encourages Alexei. “Is your world much different from ours?”

John quickly gives you a once-over and then interrupts you before you can even open your mouth, “Why not Batwoman?”

“Taken.” You shrug. “I got comfortable. Didn’t really ever feel like I needed to change just yet. But I guess I’m not a teenager anymore.” You let out a quiet chuckle and gesture to Alexei. “And to answer your question, besides several major cities not existing here, not really.” You shrug. “I think the main differences are people… like the heroes and criminals.” You gesture back-and-forth, saying, “We have Batman, you have Iron Man. We have Superman, you have Captain America. I think those are comparable, I’m not exactly sure.”

“Since you’re Batgirl,” John begins inquisitively and not good-naturedly, “there a Batboy, Batdude, Batguy… too?”

You naturally glare at him. “It’s Robin.” Nightwing now, actually.

“Oh, keeping up with the small, flying animal thing,”—he nods thoughtfully—“I see.”

Asshole.

“Ignore him; he just kind of talks,” Ava says, rolling her eyes.

In your lifetime of crime-fighting, there have been plenty of missions gone sideways. But this one? This one definitely takes the cake for being the worst.

“No one even thought to bring a screwdriver?” There was one in your toolkit, granted, it was the one you lost when you slipped through the cracks of the multiverse.

Walker grunts, readying his shield. “Why can’t we just smash it?”

“You can’t break it,” you say for the third time, holding out your palm to stop him, “or we all die.”

“Well, we’ll die anyway if we don’t get out of here.”

“I mean, yeah, just a lot more slowly.”

No wonder Valentina was desperate (She’d never admit to that.) to get you on her little team of heroes. They were a disaster. By some grace of all the higher powers in life there were (You actually knew a few.), you all managed to get out alive and, relatively, unscathed.

“After this,” you say with a strong huff and after a few untimely coughs, “remind me to buy a nice set of tools for each of us.”

The ride home isn’t too bad though. Alexei started a mixtape for them even before your arrival because the silence got a little awkward. And there’s only so much a super soldier can do to keep spirits high. With some enthusiasm, you add a few of your own songs to the playlist, feeling a bit more at home with this team of outcasts turned family.

“Where are you headed?” Walker asks, watching you walk towards the exit, still clad in your suit.

Everyone else was now in their civilian clothing for the night, grateful to shed away their suits for something more comfy after a full day’s mission. And yeah, you all almost died. But that was really just another Tuesday.

“Nightly patrol,” you answer, stopping in front of the elevator. Standing near the air conditioner, your black cape continues to flow. (While Walker would never admit it aloud, it looks seriously cool.) The elevator’s up arrow indicator lights up. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done it, and I need to learn the street names.” Their confused stares grow uncomfortable quickly, forcing you to ask, “What? You guys don’t do patrols?”

Everyone looks around at each other, before shaking their heads with a collective “No.”

“So what… you only do missions?”

“I mean…” Yelena begins, a thoughtful look taking over her face, “yeah.”

“The hell you guys even do around here then?” You chuckle, stepping into the opening elevator, offering them a playful wave goodbye. The alone time would be a relief.

Wayne Enterprises and Wayne Foundation galas, you were no stranger to. After being a friend of the family for more than half your life now, you knew how to smile at the camera and talk some snobby but loaded people into donating to your charities. Although not only a charity gala, but also an entire event dedicated to your inauguration into the Avengers, you still slipped into your socializing mode easily.

Thank Jesus, Valentina thinks as she watches you charm some old money bags. Two dozen reporters had hounded her on her way inside the venue, shouting their questions:

Is she not a liability? She could be lying about her past.

Why would another world’s hero help protect ours? She didn’t grow up here! She’s practically an alien!

Well, Thor was also an Avenger, she pointed out, shutting the reporter up. But maybe he gets more leeway because he’s a man.

But finally, an Avenger with some damn media training that wouldn’t embarrass themselves and her like the other losers. Even Congressman Barnes couldn’t compete, which was as pathetic as it was sad.

The glass of the champagne you’ve been barely sipping has grown grossly warm under your tight grip. Honestly, you just needed something to hold to keep your hands busy. After an entire hour of meeting high profile guests, you desperately need a break. It would be suspicious if you took another trip to the restroom though, so you opt for walking around, pretending like you have somewhere to be, people to charm. That always works, doesn’t it?

On your second stroll around the venue, you catch a stray six-foot man lurking around Yelena like a lost puppy. “Hey,” you greet them. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” Yelena answers, lifting up her champagne glass, clinking it against yours before taking a sip. “Good alcohol. And congratulations.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle softly, taking a small sip yourself. “Didn’t take you for a champagne girl.”

She shrugs playfully, smiling at you. “I’m full of surprises.”

“What about you, Bob?” you ask, glancing at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “You a champagne kinda girl?”

A soft laugh falls from Bob’s mouth as his head shakes. “No, unfortunately not.” He scratches the back of his head, continuing, “Been sober for awhile now.”

“Oh, I see. That’s great. That takes more strength than people think.” With your shoulder, you nudge his, smiling kindly. “This your first gala?”

“Uh, no, it’s my second… We had to attend one for the Avengers’ six-month anniversary or something.”

“Jesus, you have anniversary parties?”

He chuckles, nodding. “Valentina’s idea.”

“I figured.” Your eyes scan around the room before meeting Bob’s once more. “You enjoy these things?”

He pauses for a moment, considering whether or not to be truthful. After seeing no harm in it—you’ve been way nicer than any of the other people he’s met—he answers truthfully, “Not really.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Really? You’re really good at talking to these people though. I saw you earlier, and you seemed so…”

“Comfortable?” you add helpfully.

He nods.

“I’m just a master in the art of bullshit,” you joke. “After four-five-hundred of these, it starts to get a little easier.”

“Only three-hundred ninety-eight more to go, then.”

“Don’t worry, Bob, as the resident gala expert, I’ll keep you company. You’re in safe hands.” Abandoning your champagne flute, you link your arm with his. “You mind joining me for my third stroll around the place?”

Neither of you had noticed Yelena slip away from the two of you, and when you did, you didn’t acknowledge it either.

There’s some surprise evident on his handsome features, as if he’d expected you to leave him to the wolves here with Yelena gone. But he smiles back at you and says, “Not at all.”

“You ever gotten Bob the Builder?” you ask after about ten minutes of mindless conversation and making fun of some of the silly-looking guests in their extravagant dresses and thousand-dollar Rolexes.

“No, not yet.” He shakes his head.

You lift your hand over your mouth, which lets out an excited gasp at his admission. “I’m the first?”

“You’re the first,” he echoes back. The corners of his mouth curl up into a smile at your enthusiasm.

A sound of delight forms from your lips. “I like being the first, Bob the Builder.” You pause to meet his gaze, asking sincerely, “You don’t mind it, right?”

“No,” he says truthfully. Not from you, he doesn’t add.

“Oh, no. Four o’clock, incoming,” you whisper into his ear, which nearly makes him shiver—thankfully, it doesn’t. “I’ll lead. Take notes, alright?”

There’s an elderly couple heading straight towards you with pleasant visages, cooing at how nice the two of you look. You accept the compliment with ease, and the pair unknowingly follow your expert lead into the conversation. It’s kind of magic how you manage to hit all your marks: your newfound place on the team, charity, and a hopeful future for the city and the world. Beat for beat.

“That was pretty awesome,” Bob tells you once you’ve parted from the lovely couple.

“And what’d you learn, Bob?”

“I need to become as pretty as you.”

You blink a few times, flattered by the sincerity in his words. “That’s sweet of you,” you thank him, smiling down at your feet. “Thanks.”

Maybe it’s only now that Bob realizes what’s just come out of his mouth because his cheeks redden, almost becoming as red as the wine being served next to you. “It’s nothing,” he replies, smiling coyly. “Did you see the cake yet?”

“The giant one with my face printed on it?” You cringe outwardly. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Could’ve used a better picture though,” you mutter, tongue poking your cheek.

“I think you look nice.”

Your lips press together tightly, appreciative of his reassuring words. “Thanks, Bob. I’ve never really been celebrated like this before… It’s kind of weird. Birthday parties are one thing, but this? This is something else entirely, y’know? I didn’t even get to pick any of these decorations, or the flavor of the cake—honestly, I don’t even like it. Valentina’s event planners arranged everything. I didn’t choose the charity either… Well, I shouldn’t be complaining. This isn’t really even for me. It’s for the team…”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to enjoy it.” He then says pointedly, “It’s your face on the cake.”

“I guess…” You press your lips together before inwardly groaning. “Oh, some more investors are coming our way. I won’t make you sit through this one too. See you later?”

He nearly protests, but the words die on his tongue as he watches you blend back into the crowd, slipping so effortlessly into your charm-the-pants-off-rich-people-for-charity persona.

It’s not for another hour that you see Bob again. Your eyes were automatically searching for him in the crowd as you were speaking to some CEOs or whatever. You felt a little bad for leaving him alone, but he probably went looking for Yelena. But then you spot him walking your way with a white box clutched tightly in his hands.

“Hey, I found you,” he says softly, like he’s been looking for you his entire life. Your throat tingles. He slips the box into your hands, watching you open it with hopeful eyes. “Since it’s your party and all, I knew you couldn’t leave. But no one would notice if I stepped out for a moment, so I went out to a bakery a couple blocks away and got you a slice of cake you’ll actually want to eat.”

Your favorite flavor of cake sits right in your palms, putting a smile of awe on your face. “And it doesn’t have my face on it,” you say, chuckling quietly.

Teasingly, he points his thumb back towards the entrance and says, “I could always go back and—“

“No, oh my God.” You laugh sweetly. “But wow, thank you, Bob. Let me pay you back for it—“

“No, no—it’s okay. It’s nothing, really. I just thought you should at least get a cake you like.”

Holding it tightly to your chest, you admit to him, “I did notice you were gone.”

“Yeah?”

“I was looking for you,” you begin sheepishly. “My star pupil disappeared on me. I thought you went back to the tower, honestly. I wouldn’t have blamed you. I wanna be back in my bed right now.”

“Well… I didn’t.”

“You didn’t.” Kissing your teeth, you offer, “You wanna share this cake with me, Bob the Builder?”

At his shy acceptance, the two of you make it out of that suffocating party together, sitting on the steps out back to take turns eating the cake with the single fork Bob had retrieved—he had only gotten it for you, but he doesn’t quite mind this, nor the fork that’s stained slightly by the pretty color off your lips.

“Are these team building weekends really necessary?” you hear John ask from behind you, stepping off the jet, his bag slung around his shoulder.

You turn your head to raise your eyebrows at him. “You really complaining about a free vacation?”

“Well, we could be doing some actual Avengers work right now.”

“I think we’re allowed a break every once in awhile. We’ve been on mission after mission for the last few months. And frankly, a beach chair and a good book are calling my name right now. C’mon, Bob, book club isn’t gonna start itself.” You pull the willing brunet towards the beach house to claim first pick of rooms.

“Walker,”—Alexei slaps him on the back hard, almost causing him to tumble down the stairs—“only you would complain about beach vacation.”

John tries to shrug him off. “I’m not complaining—we should just be doing field work now.”

“You’re so lame,” Ava remarks with a smirk as she walks in direction you and Bob were headed.

“She’s right,” Yelena adds monotonely, following the rest of the group. “You are so boring, Walker.”

John huffs indignantly, adamantly denying the accusations being thrown at him. “I’m just thinking of the team!” He watches them all walk towards the beautiful, multimillion dollar beach house. Perhaps, it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy a day or two. They’re already out here anyway.

“Do you like the book I got you the other day?” you ask Bob once you’ve claimed your room—the view was arguably the best one in the place. “You were reading it on the way here.”

He nods, lifting it up for you to see. There’s a bookmark neatly wedged in between some pages where he left off at earlier. “Yeah, yeah, it’s good. I’m almost finished.”

“Great. Which room did you end up picking?”

“Oh, just… the one right here.” He points to the room next to yours.

“Hey, we’re neighbors.” You playfully elbow him. “I’m gonna go change, and then we can head to the beach, alright? See you in a bit.”

He offers you a small wave as you disappear into your room, leaving him behind in the hallway.

“Watch out, lover boy, coming through,” John grunts, hauling his bag past him. A soldier should always pack light, but he’s also prepared for whatever comes their way, so he brought most of his weapons.

“What?” Bob splutters.

“Yeah, I mean, if you wanna be a little more discreet about it, then I’d suggest stop making eyes at her.”

“I don’t—“

“As much as it pains me to agree with Walker, he’s right,” Yelena admits, crossing her arms. “But you guys are cute.”

“Sickeningly,” Ava comments, walking up the staircase.

“So very cute.” Alexei nods enthusiastically in agreement, continuing, “You two are like Romeo and Juliet.”

Bob groans internally, clutching the book you gifted him a little tighter. Was almost everyone aware of his little crush on you now?

Ava cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at Alexei. “You do know they kill themselves at the end?”

“I really don’t…” Bob mumbles, offering them all a nervous smile, “it’s not like that.”

“I don’t see any reason not to go for it.” Bucky shrugs, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “She seems pretty into you too.”

Okay, so everyone was aware.

Little did they know, you were hurling up some blue Salvias into your toilet. Right before you flush, you whisper a quick prayer that the toilet pipes don’t get clogged. Out of the various types of flowers your lungs have grown, you hate the long ones the most. They take way too much time to come up and make your throat all itchy. The only good thing about this one was that it was thornless.

There was something sweet about watching the team relax—Well, not stress over dying a painful death because volleyball was not exactly relaxing.—over a game of volleyball. The weather was perfect, hot but not overly so, making the wind feel fantastic as it came through. The smell of the seawater would waft towards you as it did, and it was pretty damn relaxing. You and Bob were sitting under the shade of a beach umbrella, reading your respective novels. After a match or two, Ava taps out to go enjoy the views, forcing Yelena to come and persuade you or Bob to join in on their little game.

You shake your head. “I wanna finish this,” you tell her. “It just started to ramp up.” Turning to your book club buddy, you encourage him with a gentle nudge. “But you should go.”

While Dick Grayson carries your heart (and your life, both unbeknownst to him) on his person, it’s not like you couldn’t appreciate a pretty person. And boy is Bob Reynolds pretty. He got hot easily, so he had quickly ditched his shirt after a few minutes of sitting and reading. It’s been awhile since you’ve wanted to chew your knuckles over the sight of a deliriously beautiful man before, and you think you’ve maybe read fifteen pages in the last hour out here. And because you also want to finish your novel in a timely, decent manner, you shoo him kindly over to the others.

Bob has never played volleyball a day in his life.

Once he gets the rules explained to him, he catches on easily and does pretty well for himself and his team (Yelena). Perhaps it was a mistake to send him off to play volleyball. Your eyes keep wandering over to him and his abs that apparently miraculously appeared because of the Project Sentry serum. Curse you for having needs, you suppose. Bob is your friend, you remind yourself, feeling worse that you could be thinking such impure thoughts about someone who’s so quickly gained your friendship.

Only over his dead body would he confess such a thing, but after seeing you in your swimsuit earlier, Bob had to make a hasty and shameful trip to his bathroom.

You had fallen asleep next to Bob while watching his third favorite movie, your head laying right on his fluttering chest. But when he wishes you good dreams that night, he forgets—just for a moment—about the Void. So when he slips into the same darkness, he opens his eyes, only to see someone who looks an awful lot like you. While he stumbles a little closer to watch, it just takes him another moment before he realizes it is you.

The long white hallways tell him they’re in a hospital, but it’s not you who is injured. You’re standing up, rubbing your hand down someone’s back as he paces along the white tiled floors. Bob can make out your puffy eyes, but there are no tears in sight, only from the man you’re attempting to console.

“She’ll be fine, Dick,” you say softly, taking his hand into yours to kiss his knuckles. The sight makes Bob uncomfortable, but he’s not sure why it does when you’re only trying to console someone. “Babs is strong. You know that as well as I do.”

He blinks, and suddenly, you’re on your knees in the bathroom, violently throwing up. Was that a flower petal? They’re still in the hospital, considering the fluorescent and obscenely bright lights. He hadn’t spotted you earlier, but now he could clearly see you watching your own memory yourself before quickly shooting up from his very real bed to empty your stomach into his trash can.

But you don’t make it in time and something blue and red makes it cruel path out of your esophagus and onto his floor. He quickly realizes the red is blood, but the blue… is a flower? Bob appears, reasonably, horrified at the sight of what had just crawled its bloody way up and out of your throat moments ago.

It has been awhile since you’ve thrown up flowers, but you think it’s because you haven’t been around Dick in awhile. But while he may not be physically present on this earth, it’s obvious he still lives in your every memory.

Bob’s index finger shoots out, pointing directly at the flower on his floor. His other hand come ups to cover his mouth in attempt to stifle his own potential projectile reaction. “What—what is that?”

“A flower,” you cough, wiping your mouth of blood.

“How the fuck did you cough up a fucking flower?”

“I’m dying.” The confession comes out so easily, and you blame Bob for being such a disarming person. He’s now seen your world through your memories. He’s almost been there since day one.

He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not, so he waits for you to crack a smile or show any sign of amusement after that. You do nothing but stare at him.

“How?”

“Love.” You continue with a defeated shrug, “I’m dying because the guy I love doesn’t return my feelings.”

“You can die from that?”

“On my world, you can. It’s rare but possible.”

“And you…?”

You nod.

He glances down once more to the mess on his floor that you’ll try to clean up later with embarrassment running through your bones, but he’ll help you despite your protests and apologies. He always will. “Does it hurt?”

You wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “Not anymore. You get used to the feeling. And well, I’ve also been stabbed. Like a lot.”

He can’t help but stare, unable to say any words of sympathy. He wants to, believe him, but they don’t come as easy as he would like. “Is he… the one from…?”

You nod pathetically. “Dick Grayson. Bestest friend in the world—my world.”

“You’d think after becoming literally invincible, you wouldn’t be so afraid of heights anymore,” you tease Bob, whose shaky eyes are trained far away from the side of the tower beneath your dangling legs.

He swallows, barely giving a glance down. “Yeah, I’m still not so great with heights,” he tells you sheepishly.

“That’s a shame. I’d have loved to show you some rooftop parkour on one of my patrols. You could’ve kept me company. For a bit, at least. I know you aren’t… ready.” You kick your feet in the air a little as you continue, “I suppose your suit wasn’t really made for that anyway. You might trip on your little cape.”

“Don’t laugh.” Bob pouts.

“I’m—”—you wheeze—“—not.”

He scoffs at you, playfully nudging your shoulder. “Sure you aren’t. And don’t you have a cape too?”

You’re laughing so hard that you double over, clutching your stomach. “Well, it’s shorter, and I also have like over ten years of experience—shit, am I really that old now?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, shut up,” you mumble, calming down from your fit of giggles.

The air grows quiet between you, but it remains serene. Well, you suppose it’s as quiet as New York gets at night. Less traffic, less honking, less stress. From a rooftop nearby the two of you snuck onto, you can see the skyline clearly. The window lights, which twinkle like a million tiny stars, are breathtaking. It’s a peace neither of you have felt in a long time, sometimes one you can barely afford with a life like yours. It feels like everything you say would just disappear into the air, but you also know the other will hold onto it if asked. So you’re grateful for this and for Bob, who never ever takes and only gives—perhaps even too much. And maybe it’s time for him to take something of yours.

Your voice sounds so small when you hear the words out loud for the very first time. “I don’t think I wanna be Batgirl anymore…”

Bob stares at you with wide eyes, spluttering, “You wanna quit?”

“It’s not that,” you explain. “I mean, I did quit for awhile after I started showing signs… I could barely look at Dick without coughing up rose petals from my lungs, but I just. I think I wanna be my own thing now, y’know? I wasn’t the first Batgirl, and I certainly won’t be the last… I just—I’d like to choose who I’m going to be this time.”

“I get that. When Valentina…” He gestures vaguely around himself. “When she made me into the Sentry, I didn’t get to choose any of it. The team told me after I lost my memory of what happened… that day last year. She came up with the name, gave me the suit and cape, told me what to do. And then, the Void happened… and now, I’m here.”

“Well, if it means anything to you, I think Bob is pretty great,” you say with a tiny, lop-sided smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Batgirl is pretty cool too, I guess—hey!” He rubs his arm where you whacked him before continuing with a pointed tone, “I was going to say, ‘Batgirl is pretty cool too, but whoever you want to be, I think I’ll like her too.’”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

It seems otherworldly fortuitous when a nightingale flies by, perching itself on the edge of the same rooftop you two were sat on.

You’re sitting on the arm of Bob’s lounging chair, peering over his shoulder to watch a YouTube video on setting up your new IKEA bookshelf on his phone.

“Does somebody have a flower garden in their room?” You and Bob glance up from his chair at Alexei, who’s holding a… familiar-looking trash bag. He picks up a handful of the flowers, stained with your blood but rinsed in case of something like this. “I must say these are beautiful. Very pretty. Shouldn’t be thrown out.” To your horror, Alexei begins to place all the intact flowers across the kitchen counters and the living room.

Bob’s sympathetic eyes are already on you when your gaze reaches his.

“I’m gonna kill myself,” you grumble, groaning quietly to yourself and Bob. “The one time I don’t take the trash out immediately.”

He tentatively places his hand over yours, making you look back at him again. A faint smile appears on your face, but it’s there.

You wake up early the next morning to quickly dispose of the flowers around the common spaces yourself, only to find them already gone. Weird, you think before spotting Bob in his usual relaxation spot. No one else was up yet. He’s relaxing in his chair by the window, reading another one of the books you recommended him. And you can’t help but smile a little, your heart feeling a tad warmer.

The day the itch in your throat—the one you’ve come to accept as second nature, is gone, you think is the day you will die. You had long since accepted your sentence, the terms and conditions you failed to read when you fell in love with bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Robin what feels like lifetimes ago now. So when your throat suddenly clears for the first time in years, you think it will be your last day on this Earth and the only other one you’ve ever known.

You’ve heard the stories… they say it hurts, or it feels cathartic. Those like you eventually all come to accept their fates as you have, but when you wake up the next morning and each one after that, you don’t know how to feel anymore.

After a few days, you show up to the leading team of doctors hired specifically by Valentina to keep her new Avengers alive. They knew about your condition since all your lung x-rays came back with a giant plant root wound painfully around your lungs. You were a medical wonder to them, and unfortunately, it also meant that the only information they had on your disease was well… from you. So when you didn’t die like you were supposed to, they were frankly just as puzzled as you were.

There were only two known ways to get rid of your ailment besides dying: one was to have your feelings returned by your unrequited love, the other was to surgically cut out the root from your lungs. The operation was highly experimental and highly risky. Those who have made it out alive have either lost their ability to feel love for their unrequited or for anybody altogether. In cases, that you’d argue were worse than death itself, some of them came out incapable of feeling any kind of emotion. To you, that would be losing your humanity. And how could you let go of that when you’ve seen what it’s done to others?

Scarecrow, Two-Face, the Joker.

It’s not for awhile that you realize your heart doesn’t stutter at the thought of Dick anymore, doesn’t clench and make that itch in your throat form a cough. But when exactly did you stop feeling that way about him?

Bob appears at your cracked door, knocking the frame with a gentle smile. “Wanna help me with breakfast?”

You glance over at him from your television—it’s playing Doctor Who, a show you’re grateful transcends the bounds of space—and nod. The smile you return him makes his grow a little brighter as you shuffle towards him to follow your somewhat daily routine.

“I know you clicked ‘Leave at door’, but I’ve got ice cream, some pastries, and a Pride & Prejudice Blu-ray for delivery, and I didn’t want your little kit to get stolen,” announces a voice through your door.

You snort, calling out, “I’m reporting you!” You twist the doorknob, finding Dick on the other side with an easy grin.

“Reporting me?” He gasps, clutching the items closer to his chest. “I’m just making sure these make it safely to their recipient. There are some hungry thieves out here, y’know,” he whispers, eyes shifting to a certain speedy ginger who happens to walk by at this particular moment.

You giggle, stepping aside for him to enter your room. “Gimme gimme.” You make grabby motions with your hands, trying to get him to hand you a pastry.

“Magic word?”

A groans slips out of your mouth before you begrudgingly mumble, “Please, Dick?”

“What was that?”

“Don’t push it.”

“You’re not going on patrol with me like… ever.” You scoff in disbelief at John, shaking your head.

“What?” He puffs, adjusting the beret on his head. “Why not? It’s boring here, and I just got my handgun fixed up.”

“Besides that alarming statement, you killed an innocent man in broad daylight…”

“Innocence is a matter of perspective.”

“No, Walker.”

“But it’s my turn to pick the movie tonight,” you grumble.

“Except it’s a stupid movie,” retorts John.

“Pride & Prejudice is not a stupid movie. It’s literally one of the cult classics! You made us watch Die Hard twice.”

“Also a cult classic—The first time was for the experience, and the second for Christmas.”

You scoff. “We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.”

The entire team was hesitant to watch the film at first, but throughout it, there were many tears shed… mostly by Alexei, although he tried to deny it, blaming the wind and dust. (You were inside.) Still, you could tell the others are enjoying it—even Walker, who was trying to pretend otherwise. Somewhere along the line, there was a joke or two about how Bucky—being as old as Jane Austen—should’ve played Mr. Darcy, garnering some snickers and a long sigh.

While Bob was definitely, totally paying attention to the movie, he seemed to be more interested in your expressions as you rewatched it for probably the billionth time. Even so, you were still completely captivated by it, smiling like a little kid. He watched you mouth some of the lines you’d known by heart to yourself. Eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder, making him look back at Yelena.

While the others are absorbed into the movie, she whispers in his ear, “I know you like her, Bob, but the staring is getting creepy.”

He blushes and reduces his glances to once every five minutes instead.

You’re not sure how to bring it up—the rest of the Thunderbolts (Alexei filled you in on their temporary namesake before they became the Avengers, and then he and Yelena got into an argument about who was the actual sponsor of her Little League team.) aren’t even aware you’ve been dying. It’s great news, however, you’re not dying from unrequited love anymore! Still, you should probably tell Bob, the only person who was aware of your condition. But it had just felt unnatural to bring it up in any of your recent conversations.

Despite this, Bob does notice a change in you. Your face looks visibly brighter, and your body stronger. Your coughs went away almost completely, only occurring when someone is smoking outside or there’s construction pollution. He wonders if the disease that’s plagued you has realized you were too precious of a life to make a true victim. Because, to be frank, Bob has no idea what he’d do without you.

While the Thunderbolts understood pain and suffering, none of it could be considered normal. Child assassin, child experiment, super soldier, super asshole, Alexei. Not to say you had a normal childhood—you became a superhero as a freaking teenager, but your traumas were similar to his: dysfunctional family, depression, insecurities rooted so deeply into your being, you couldn’t get away from it. Although he and Yelena were close, you just got him. You clicked. You didn’t have to explain your feelings because the other always understood.

He never once felt like you looked through him. And whenever you smile at him, laugh with him, Bob feels some kind of euphoria. It’s better, cleaner than any high he’s ever gotten from meth and the like. Perhaps it’s not the most appropriate metaphor to make as a former addict (Nearly 1.5 years sober!), but he thinks he wants to stay high off of you.

He feels too anxious not to ask, so one night, he ends up at your door, knocking gently. Moments later, you open the door. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

Bob clears his throat. “Just wanted to check in. Haven’t seen you all day.”

“You saw me at dinner,” you remind him, teasingly. You step aside, and he immediately shuffles into your room while you close the door behind him. “Something the matter, Bob?”

He’s not sure how to ask, so he just rips off the bandaid before he can chicken out. “Are you… feeling better now?”

It’s the most he can say it without actually saying it, but like always, you just understand.

“Oh, that…” You bite your lip, nodding slowly. “I am, actually. I think it might be gone.”

You can see his shoulders sag in relief, and he nearly envelops you in a hug. You catch the twitch of his body, as if it aches to be closer to yours. Yours makes the same kind.

“Good, great… I mean, that’s wonderful.”

You return his smile, echoing his sentiment. “It is. I’m just hoping that it clearing up isn’t some weird sign that I’m gonna spontaneously die. That would suck.”

“Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “I don’t really wanna think about that… You said it should go away once the feelings are returned or disappear, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So that means…”

“Uh-huh.” You bite your tongue gently. “I guess being away from him helped with that. Only took being on an entirely different planet though…” You both release a small chuckle at that. “I knew he was never going to… But back then, I couldn’t really imagine anyone being better than him. But you know, I suppose that’s what best friends are for… What is it?”

A thoughtful little frown has settled onto Bob’s face. “What if he feels the same way about you, and that’s why you don’t have it anymore?”

“I guess I just know. You ever felt your heart beat for someone else?” Your hand presses against your chest, directly over it. “It’s, like, out of your control—and it squeezes up. But in a good way. That doesn’t happen when I think of him anymore.”

Bob knows that all too well.

You had never felt more alive than you did the day you put on the Batgirl suit.

Black, reinforced fabric fitted perfectly to you—the esteemed yellow bat symbol stitched proudly over your chest. Next to you, a cute boy with forest green combat boots and a little yellow ‘R’ over his heart. Playfully, he tugs on your cape.

There was nothing more freeing than feeling the wind in your face, slipping through your fingers as you leap from one rooftop to another with your best friend. Childish laughter fills the air as you start your patrol for the night.

At first, you were hesitant to make that first leap onto the next building. But then a kind hand reached out with an encouraging smile to match, guiding you onto the other side. His yellow cape glimmered gold under the moonlight, luring you to follow him to the edge of the world.

Concrete crumbles around you, the sounds of bombs exploding so loud that they rumble through your chest. Your memory is unfortunately a little foggy, having blacked out for a few moments. Hopefully. Some civilians are in the line of fire of some villains whose names you forget, forcing you to rush to their side to bring them to a safe place. You aren’t even sure what’s safe anymore.

There’s really not much thinking you can do—letting your autopilot run for you, your trained instincts taking the reins until you will eventually drop.

Evade. Save. Dodge. Kick. Jump. Punch.

Most importantly, don’t kill and don’t die.

In your daze of fighting and more fighting, you can barely make out the sounds of fabric ripping over the ringing in your ears and the fresh pain coursing through you. You guarantee there are cuts and bruises all over your face now, which you hope will heal faster and won’t scar like the wounds all over the rest of your body.

Bucky finds you underneath some rumble, struggling to lift it off of yourself, and helps you back to your feet to continue the fight. While Yelena is taking care of one of the people bombing the city, you run towards Ava and John to help them with the other. Alexei is too focused on bringing civilians to safety to notice you disarm the man trying to shoot at him.

Once the threat has been contained, you’re able to mourn the hero suit you’ve worn for the better part of your life. It’s torn in so many places that you can barely recognize it anymore. However, the Bat symbol has been spared and remains intact, as if to tell you your purpose still lives on.

Bob has nearly bitten all of his nails off waiting for you all to return to the tower, especially you. Because he was still technically a civilian, he wasn’t allowed to listen in on your comms. Instead, he anxiously watched the entire battle on the flatscreen in the living room. A few helicopters were circling around the few blocks of the city the destruction was taking place, recording everything.

It is unbearable trying not to pull you into his embrace when the team returns. You’re all headed straight for the med bay to get treated. It seems like you took most of the injuries, much to his horror, but you were the strongest person he knew. You could get through anything.

Your suit has been torn to shreds though. He winces each time he looks at it laying on the table beside you. The dark cape was completely ripped apart, leaving nothing but a few scraps you tried to fruitlessly pick up and take back. But you make light of it, telling him not to worry about it as you sip the warm tea he brought you, made exactly the way you like it. At least you were faring better than the suit.

“I think I was in need of something new anyway,” you muse, licking your lips. “Maybe it’s finally time I spread my wings. I’ve already jumped, or I guess fallen, out of the nest.”

“You pick out a name yet?”

You nod, setting down your cup of tea on the table. “Yeah, I decided awhile ago. You remember that night when we were sitting on that rooftop, and I made fun of your fear of heights?”

The relief that Nightwing feels when he sees that you’re alive and in one piece has him nearly in tears. Is that a new suit you’re wearing? That’s besides the point. The relief that Dick Grayson feels, though? It is immeasurable and shakes his entire body to his very soul. He’s been without his best friend (Sorry, Wally.) for nearly a year now, and to say that it’s been hard or difficult is an entirely gross understatement. He could barely eat or sleep the first few months after you had slipped through the literal cracks in the universe.

He should’ve caught you like he did every other time in your lives. Dick has always been your safety net, and he failed you the one time you needed him most. B told him he doesn’t have to go out on missions for awhile, but Dick needs to bury himself in his work. Not even Kori could console him, but she always tried. And while he appreciated it, he needed to be alone for awhile.

He loved Kori, truly, but his love for you was different. You were each other’s person. It was always you two against the world. (Again, sorry Wally.) Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but you guys were soulmates, completely in tune in every aspect of your lives—on the field and off. As Zatanna liked to put it, twin flames and whatnot.

The hug he pulls you into steals your breath away, bodies shaking. He kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek against it as he listens to you catch him up on everything since you landed on this Earth. If it had been any nicer occasion, he’d be freaking out with you about being on an alternate Earth.

But then you make a confession that’s stealing his breath away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks more distraught than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a little wrinkle between his eyebrows that you want you smooth out with your thumb like usual. But there’s nothing usual about telling your best friend you were going to suffocate to death because of a rare disease caused by your former love for him.

You breathe out a sad little laugh. “What would that have done?”

“I could’ve helped you—“

“—How, Dick?”

“B knows all the best doctors, he could’ve—“

“Dick…”

“I would’ve done anything to help you.”

You know what he means, and it makes your stomach curl. He is too good for the world. Any of them.

“You can’t force yourself to love me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“I already do! I could’ve tried!”

You slink your arms around him, wrapping him into your embrace. “Boy Wonder, you can make plenty of miracles happen, but that? I don’t think so. And we both know it’s not that kind of love.”

“I do love you,” he responds defeatedly, melting into your warm, familiar embrace.

“I know you do. I love you too.” It is strange but also cathartic to be able to say that so openly, so honestly. You don’t have to hide it anymore because it’s no longer killing you. “I love you so very much, Grayson.”

A string of apologies fly out of his mouth, but you gently shush him. “You have nothing, and I mean nothing, to be sorry for. It’s not something either of us could’ve controlled. We both know feelings don’t work like that. They’re weird, and they creep up on you out of nowhere—but they also transform. I’m okay now.”

“You could’ve died,” he reminds you, “and it wouldn’t been my fault.”

The only thing you can do is hold him even tighter. “But I’m not dead, and it wouldn’t have been your fault. It’s no one’s fault, Dick.”

It will be a long time before he believes you, but for now, it suffices.

“We should go home soon… I wish we could stay longer, but we don’t know how long we can keep the portal open.” Dick is tugging you gently, but his face then falls at your hesitation. He keeps his arms on you to ground himself.

“Actually, Grayson, I… I think I wanna stay,” you confess.

“Stay?”

“We’ve all felt that—that calling… and I… I think it’s led me here now, Dick. I can’t just leave when these people need a new team who can protect them.”

“But you… you belong with us… with me.”

“I do, but now I belong with them too.” You glance back at the team and Bob, all watching you and Dick from the other end of the helipad. “They’re family now, my third one, I guess.”

“Nobody knows if we can get you back to our world after this.” Dick sniffles, your name so sweet and sad on his tongue. “I don’t want to never see you again…”

“I don’t either, but we’ll hold out hope, alright? If you guys could figure out getting here once, then who’s to say you can’t do it again? I mean, I’m not even the first person to come here from another world. How fucking cool is that? I’ll see you again, Dick. I know it. Don’t you?”

He stares in awe of you for a moment before nodding agreeingly. “I do.” His smile returns. “Wow, I’ve never heard you sound so… optimistic before.”

You sniffle, chuckling through your tears. “I guess I’ve changed since coming here.”

“Yeah, you have, Nightingale,” he teases you.

You let out an ungraceful snort, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. “Birds of a feather, Nightwing.”

Bob has had almost the entire year to prepare himself for this moment, and yet he still feels like he’s going to throw up at the sight of you leaving for, probably, ever. While your spot on the team was always going to be a temporary thing, he thought that maybe… No, you wanted to go home. And now you were.

The others tried to console him while you were talking to Dick on the helipad, your best friend and the man you almost died over. The tower would feel so empty without you. Who would he cook breakfast with? You were the only one who knew how he liked his eggs. And he was pretty particular about his eggs.

And book club? How’s he supposed to do book club without the club? He thought he enjoyed reading books alone before you joined the team, but getting to talk and laugh and make fun of them with you? And there’s no way he could do it with the rest of the team. He doubts any of them even read.

Instead of disappearing off into the sunset (It was early morning.) with pretty boy Dick Grayson like he thought you would, you turn around and walk back towards them. So this was really it—goodbye.

The words run out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he blurts out a jumbling mess of syllables, “I know it’s selfish, and if you wanna go home, you should, but I don’t think I want you to go—“

Your mouth feels a little dry when you admit, “—I’m not going.”

“W-what?”

“I told Dick I was going to stay here.”

“You did?”

You nod in response. “How could I leave you guys?” Your teeth pull your lip in worry. “How could I leave you?”

“But you’ve been missing home, and I thought…”

“Yeah, I did too. I do miss it, but I’m sure I can go back, I think…” You chuckle nervously. “I hope… But I am home. Here, I mean. I guess somewhere along the line, I got attached to you idiots. And the Avengers need all the help they can get, y’know?”

Your mouth forms all the words, yet it feels like it’s still dancing around what you really should be saying. The confession rests on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to be released out into the world.

“You’re an Avenger too.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, scratching behind your ear. “Sorry, um, I also wanna tell you… It shouldn’t be this hard. Oh, God, don’t look at me like that—I’m gonna lose my train of thought—“

Never in your life have you been kissed as fiercely or passionately as this. Bob’s mouth slots perfectly against yours, his tongue prodding and prodding until your gasp allows it entrance.

John clears his throat loudly, remarking, “Hey, you guys know we’re still here, right?”

“I don’t know if they care,” Bucky comments, trying not to stare.

“Well finally,” Yelena says, “we’ve been waiting.”

“Took you two long enough,” Ava chimes.

Alexei claps like a proud father. “Oh, this is wonderful! Nightingale is staying, and these two finally figured out they like each other!”

You bury your face into the crook of Bob’s neck, embarrassed by your affectionate display.

“I love you!” you hear Dick Grayson, your best friend in the whole world(s), shout before he does a flip back into the portal home.

“Show-off,” you remark affectionately, tutting.

It’s raining outside today, the sound of the raindrops tranquil. Mindlessly, your fingers run up the back of Bob’s neck (His whole body shivers.) and tangle themselves in soft brown locks. He walks you backwards until the back of your knees hit his bed, and you land on its soft mattress.

He leans back, warm blue eyes meeting your gaze. “This okay?”

“Okay?” you repeat, pecking around his collarbone. “This is more than okay.”

“Okay… Great. That’s great.”

Nervous chuckles escape you both as you begin to undress each other. His shirt lands somewhere on his floor for you to steal later—probably tomorrow morning. You think yours ends up draped over his TV—or maybe it’s your bra—but the way he’s kissing the tops of your breasts is really distracting you from figuring it out.

“It’s been awhile, so… I’m kinda out of practice,” you admit, embarrassed by your little confession.

He lifts his head, shaking it. “Me too. I haven’t… in awhile either.”

The pads of his fingers dance around your waist, skimming past the hem of your pants. You let out an embarrassing whimper from the slightest tap of his fingers against your clit, the only barrier between them the fabric of your underwear.

“You sound really pretty,” he whispers, nibbling on the skin of your shoulder.

A sound between a hum and a whine bubbles out of your lips. “No teasing, please. Not right now.”

His mouth leaves your neck for a split moment. “Okay, no teasing.”

Luckily for you, he means it. And in no time, he has two fingers inside you, stretching your wet cunt out. A warm tongue darts around your sensitive nerves before a pair of lips gently sucks at the flesh. Sometimes, you forget just how strong Bob is, his large hands pressing down onto your thighs to keep them spread open for him with ease. He doesn’t look that strong, but you’ve seen what he hides underneath his shirts and sweaters. A low groan tumbles out of his throat at your fingers tugging his hair, and he whimpers at your sweet, soft whines. He’s making you feel that way, and the thought excites him more than he’d like to admit.

By the time he’s made you come around his fingers and with his mouth, he’s gotten achingly hard and has been bucking his hips into the side of his mattress for any sort of relief. You tug him forward, smashing your lips against his and delight in the taste of your cum on his tongue.

“Need you,” you murmur, whining from sensitivity as Bob continues to circle your clit with his thumb.

Impatiently, you unbuckle his belt and tug down his pants and underwear together with practiced ease, waiting for him to step out of them. He quickly kicks them away before pressing himself back on top of you, eager lips finding yours again.

“You need me?” he asks between sloppy, desperate kisses.

Your teeth tug at the meat of your cheek, chewing with a shyness that he likes seeing on you. “I need you,” you repeat with a small nod.

“Alright, pretty girl. Lay down for me?”

You follow his instructions, and he thinks he could cum solely from the sight of you spread out on his bed for him. He’s already fucked his own fist more times than he can count to the thought of this. He’s praying that it’s not any figment of imagination or some cruel trick of the mind Void is playing—but then again, anything the Void shows never feels this good.

And fuck, do you feel good.

He pumps his length a few times before smearing your cum around your swollen folds to coat himself in your slick. He is already delirious with pleasure, and he hasn’t even been inside of you yet. But when Bob finally slips into you, it’s gentle, and he’s cupping your face so sweetly. You whine as he slowly bottoms out, filling you up until you’re full of him. He’s a lot but not too much, just enough.

“I’ll take care of you, okay, pretty girl?” He feels your tight walls clenching around him, and it takes so much in him not to cum then and there. Slowly, he pulls his cock out of your needy cunt just to slide it back in all the way in one swift motion. “That’s it. You can take it.”

You nod dumbly at his words, feeling your cunt continue to stretch around him. He leans down over you, pressing his warm mouth onto yours. He even tastes like you still.

There isn’t much you can do except cry out his name and hold onto him, nails digging into his back as he fucks himself into you with your legs wrapped tight around his hips—not that he minds any bit. It’s not like you can hurt him, but he’ll end up mourning the scratches you could’ve blessed him with later on. Invulnerability isn’t always a gift.

“You feel so good,” you whisper.

He inhales sharply and jokes, “You should see how you feel.”

Although you’ve been pulsing around him, you need just that little extra push before you can cum. Without much thought—How can you have any when you’re getting fucked like this?—your hand somehow snakes between your bodies, finding your clit with ease.

“Oh, fuck…” he drawls out as you manage to get even tighter around his cock. How was that possible?

Your second release hits you before you can even get the words to come out, your cries filling the room. He realized soon after he got his powers that his stamina never really changed unless he was using his abilities for awhile. And fucking you wasn’t really a superpower—though you are inclined to disagree. Well, it meant that he could continue to thrust into you, drawing out your pleasure until you’re shaking from overstimulation.

Through the haze of probably the best orgasm you’ve ever been given in your life, you vaguely make out his question and answer, “I-inside’s okay.”

After making sure again, Bob finally cums with a last few bucks of his hips, a new delicious warmth filling you inside. Without pulling out, he collapses on top of you, careful not to suffocate you. The mixture of your cum is probably all over his sheets anyway, but you think maybe he just wants to be inside you a little longer.

It nearly makes you cringe, how heavily you’re panting right now—it’s the only thing you can hear. The thought quickly disappears when you feel him place a gentle kiss onto your mouth.

“You okay?”

You’re too fucked out to make any words leave your mouth, so you manage with a little hum.

“I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” There’s a hint of insecurity that you can detect in his soft, hesitant tone.

Shaking your head adamantly, you can do. You play with his hair while you try to find your voice again. “I wouldn’t let you be rough with me if I didn’t like it,” you whisper, gently pressing your finger into his cheek. “And if you couldn’t tell, I really liked it.”

You also like the smile that makes its way onto his face. It’s a wonder that a man who could do all of that to you could still be blushing crimson at your words right after.

Leaning forward, he nuzzles his nose against yours and asks quietly, “You seriously wanna stay here?”

“Yes, Bob the Builder. I wanna stay here. On this Earth. With you.”

“I’m really glad,” he murmurs against your mouth, an honesty in his words you’ve come to appreciate greatly.

You sing-song a familiar cartoon tune, “Can we stay here?”

Bob snorts, answering, “Yes, we can!”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You’re standing next to Bob in your suit, a reassuring expression on your face. “It’s seriously not a big deal, I already do this with Yelena all the time—“

“No, no,” Bob says quickly, waving you off. His bright blue eyes keep darting between you and what’s waiting below off the edge of the building. “I wanna do this.”

“No offense, dude, but you look terrified.”

He nods. “Well, that’s great, because I am.”

You sigh, taking his hand in yours. “And I said you don’t have to. I already appreciate you considering it.”

“I want to,” he tells you with full honesty. “I do. I wanna know if it’s like how you described.”

“Even though you’re scared and squeezing my hand like you aren’t a perfectly safe distance from the edge?”

“Yes.”

You give him your brightest grin. “Just don’t pass out on me, alright? I don’t have super strength, and I will get Alexei to carry you back to the tower by himself.”

[theundercoversquid]

Cat Sitting

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: Your Buckys catsitter, and well, maybe Alpine isn't the only one you need to look after

Warnings: Bob

Masterlist

Walking up to the old Stark tower, come Avengers tower, come whatever the hell this was, was not how you were expecting to spend your Friday evening. Yet here you were. Alpine, Buckys cat, cuddled to your chest. Her harness was on and her lead in hand. But the cat was happy pressed against you. Purring contentedly as you narrated your thoughts to her.

"The things I do for your dad." You murmur to the cat, looking up at the towering skyscraper.

You had always been Buckys' go-to person when someone had to look after Alpine, I mean, what were friends for? But when he asked you to drop Alpine off here instead of his flat, you had been confused. But went through with his request anyway. You knew that Bucky wouldn't let anything bad happen to Alpine, and that meant, by extension, you. It was a close-run thing about who Alpine loved more, you or Bucky.

Heasitenly, you recheck the message that Bucky had sent you before stepping into the building and walking up to the lifts. Pressing the call button, you wait for one to arrive, anxiously stroking Alpines fur as you wait.

When a lift dings to tell you it has arrived, you step in. Pressing the floor Bucky had told you to, and feeling as if it takes you up.

When the lift comes to a stop, you step out into the seemingly deserted building.

"Hello." You call out hesitantly. "Bucky!" You call a bit louder this time as Alpine jumps out of your arms, landing on the ground. But still, you make sure to keep hold of her lead. Not quite trusting this strange environment.

But only silence greets you, and then the sound of shuffling feet has you turn to see a man heading in your direction, well, more like shuffling hesitantly in your direction.

"Hello?" You greet the strange person. But their eyes are firmly set on Alpine as they shuffle towards her before bending down to give the cat some fuss.

You wait for a few moments as they give Alpine some fuss before finally butting in.

"Excuse me," You call softly. Casing their head to suddenly turn to you, looking sheepish. "You wouldn't know where Bucky is by any chance." For a moment, you feel like you are going to get lost in his eyes. But you shake yourself out of it.

"Oh, sorry," the stranger murmurs, a hand coming up to fiddle with the cuffs of his sweater. "Bucky got called out last minute, but he warned me you would be coming around. he told me to tell you that he will be back soon. You can wait if you want, or you can leave Alpine with me." The stranger murmurs.

"I take it that means that you are Bob, then," you murmur. Leaning down to unclip Alpine's lead, giving her the space to roam if she wants to. Not that it looks as if she wants to go anywhere with Bob giving her fuss, so you also croach down storing the spoiled cat.

"Oh," Bob murmurs, not looking at you as he instead looks at Alpine. "You know who I am?"

"Bucky mentioned you." You admit with a shrug, also looking at Alpine instead of the man opposite you.

"What did he say?" Bob asks. Somehow, his voice seems almost even quieter, with a hesitant edge to it, as if he doesn't truly want to know what Bucky has to say about him.

"Not much." You admit truthfully. "After the attack on New York, I called him to make sure he was alright. I had seen him on the news, but I wanted to make sure he was really alright, you know. He told me some of what went down. Told me bits and pieces, I know he wants to tell me the whole story, but it's not the sort of thing you say over the phone. Then, when it came to dropping Alpine off, he mentioned that you may be around."

"That's all?" Bob murmurs, half glancing towards you, as if he wants to look at you but can't bring himself to.

"Pretty much," you shrug. "Why? Is there something else he should have told me?" You question before pausing. "You aren't allergic to cats, are you?"

"No." Bob blurts out suddenly, and you don't know which of your questions he is answering. "I mean no," Bob murmurs. "No to all of them."

"That's good." You nod. "It would be a bit awkward if you were allergic to cats, given Alpine is going to be loving with you.

"What about you?" Bob murmurs. "Do you live with Bucky and Alpine?"

"Oh no." You laugh. "Just an old friend. Well, not that old, given how old Bucky is. But I have been a friend of his for quite a while. Steve introduced us to each other. Brings back memories being back at this place."

At that Bob finally looks up at you, he hesitates, looking as if he is going to say something, but before he can pluck up the corage you can here the sound of the lift going of, filled by the sound of the doors opening and overlaping voices greet you as the others emerge from the lift. All talking over each other about something or another.

But at the sight of you and Bob crouched down to the ground giving fuss to a snow white cat, all conversation halts.

"Alpine!" Bucky call, grinning as he spots his cat. Alpine has also spotted Bucky stands up, running at him, before she throws herself at him. The man catches her effortlessly as he cradles her to his chest, giving her fuss.

"Who are you?" A woman with bleached blond hair standing next to Bucky asks, her accent thick.

Standing up, you hesitantly wave at the group, telling them your name. "I'm an old friend of Buckys and sometimes cat sit for him." You pause for a moment, hesitant before you carry on. "I also have Nat's cat." You murmur. "Liho. She used to leave her with me." At the mention of Nat, both the woman you're assuming to be Yelena and an older man's heads snap to look at you, their eyes intent. "I was going to bring her as well, but she was determined she didn't want to come." With their eyes intent on you, you can't help but carry on rambling. "I can bring her around if you want to meet her." You finally offer a trial.

"Yes," the older man nods. "That would be good." His accent also thick.

"I'm going to go now." You announce feeling awkward. "Call me if you need any more cat sitting," you tell Bucky. Edging around the imposing crowd as you make a bid for the lifts.

"Wait. A voice called, forcing you to stop and turn around. All eyes have now turned to Bob as he seems to shrink under their gaze. "Do you maybe want to stay?" Bob murmurs. "You could stay for supper."

"Oh," you murmured, a little surprised at the sudden request. Turning to look at Bucky, not sure what to do. But you can see him already nodding. Agreeing with Bob's suggestion. "I would love to." You start before trialling of, "It's just that I have some things I need to do, and then I will need to get back to Liho." You murmur.

"Oh," Bob deflates a little, taking what you have said as a not ever, when in fact it is a not now.

"That doesn't mean I would want to come for dinner some night." You amend quickly. "Just not tonight."

Bob seems to perk up a little at that, as everyone else just seems to carry on, staring at you. Well, everyone but Bucky, who had gone back to giving Alpine fuss.

"I'm going to go now," you murmur, making a bid for freedom. You end up practically running out of the Avengers Tower. Rushing out into the street, you know you have safely blended into the crowd.

You truly did mean your offer, you would love to stay for the supper. But tonight was not the night for it. Not least because you hadn't had the time to mentally prepare for it.

When Bucky had asked if you could pet sit Alpine, you had thought absolutely nothing of it. It was rather a common that you had to look after the snow white cat.

When he had asked if you could come to the Avengers tower to look after Alpine, you hadn't thought that much of it. Poor Alpine had just moved to a new home with new people. It would make sense that Bucky would want her to get used to that new environment.

What had made you suspicious, however, was Buckys' insistence that he had left instructions on the counter that you had to read. You had pet-sat Alpine enough times that you knew her as well as you knew your own cat. For heaven's sake, Alpine was practically your second cat.

But no, Bucky had some new instructions you just had to read, and being the trusting person that you were, you just chalked it up to being instructions about the new location. When to take the bins out. That sort of thing.

So you packed up the clothes you would need for the week he was going to be away. Also, packing up all of Liho's things.

Then, when everything was finally ready, you headed across to the Avnerger towers. From what Bukcy had told you, he had given Alpine breakfast before leaving that morning. So you were arriving an hour or two later.

When you get into the complex, the doors to the lift open. Silence greets you as you step out into the main room, but you can't see anyone or anything around.

"Alpine!" You call gently as you make your way into the kitchen. At your words, you can hear a soft thump followed by hurried paws as Alpine rushes to make her way to you.

Liho is still half asleep, swaddled in a pappus, so you open your other arm up to Alpine, who happily leaps into it. Purring as you cradle her.

Then, with two cats, one in each arm, you turn to read the instructions that Bucky had left you.

The instructions start normally enough. How the hob works, when to take the bins out, how the heating works and all those sorts of things. There are then a few comments on where Alpine likes to sleep, in case you can't find her. Then, when you turn that page, you can see that the title is simply: Bob.

Which confuses you? As far as you were aware, Bucky had gotten another cat, and if he had, why would he give it the same name as his teammate and the person that he lived with? But still you read his instructions, and as you read them, you feel more and more sorry for this poor cat.

When you get to the end, you fold the piece of paper up. Tuck it in your pocket before you head off around the facility. Two cats are still cradled to you as you go.

"Bob!" You call softly so as not to startle the cat.

What you were not expecting was for Bob the human to suddenly sit up on the sofa he had obviously been lying down on. His sudden appearance startles you. But somehow you remain upright and with both cats still in your arms.

Bob seems equally startled to see you as you both stare at each other with wide eyes for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" Bob suddenly asks before his eyes widen again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He rushed to amend, but you assured him it was all right.

"I'm cat sitting." You explain to him. Gently lifting Alpine up in your arms. "Though I have yet to meet Buckys' new cat."

"New cat?" Bob questions, looking confused.

"Yeah," you nod. "He left me a note about him." You explain as you pull the note from your pocket. Holding it out to Bob.

Tentatively, Bob takes the paper from your outstretched hand

You watch him as he reads it. His face changes as he gets further down the paper.

"Uh," Bob murmurs. "I think that's me."

"Oh," you murmur, not suddenly making sense. "I'm going to kill Bucky." You murmur, your head dropping down to land on Lihos head as the cat meows at you.

Bob seems to take your reaction the wrong way.

"You don't need to stay if you don't want to." He rushes to assure you. "I can look after Alpine for you."

"Nope," You shake your head. "It looks like I have two cats and a human to look after." 

With that, you deposit both cats onto Bob's lap. "Now, when did you last eat a proper meal?"

Bob pauses. Taken aback by your words, he strokes the cats. But then you can see as he starts to think about your questions.

"Well, that's answer enough, you tell him. Turning your head towards the kitchen, any allergies or dietary restrictions?" You call over your shoulder.

"Uh, no?" Bob calls back.

"Perfect." You call over your shoulder before you step into the kitchen.

Now, maybe when you had first entered the Avengers, you hadn't been expecting to have to look after two cats and a human. But you weren't going to leave Bob alone in the tower by himself. Who knows, maybe the company may do him a little bit of good.

But that wasn't to say you were going to kill Bucky when he got home.

[countlessimagines]

Here Now [ Sentry X Reader ]

Summary: The past seems to always haunt you.

A/N: I love sentry !!!

Warnings: Mention of addiction, mental health issues

SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS

-

It was hard to adapt to normalcy after Robert had suddenly disappeared. You were left alone in your too small apartment that felt huge and empty without him by your side.

Robert never had an easy life, even if he had you by his side, following him wherever he went. Even if his depression and addiction were sometimes too much to handle. He was forever grateful but extremely guilty that he dragged you into his mess of a life. You saw him for the person he was, not the trauma that molded his moods.

Even when he was not honest, it was hard to stay away from him. You loved him with everything you had, even if it was not much.

He loved you with a fierceness that was almost obsessive. There was a side of him that he seemed to hide from you, something darker within him that lingered. You could see it in his eyes whenever someone suggested you to leave him, another man flirting, or whenever you two go into arguments.

It was scary to see, but then it would melt away and he would be back to normal.

When he saw that there was a new research study that can make you a better man, he did not hesitate to sign up. He feared you would not approve of being a test subject, but knew he had to do something to change. He knew loving you while a mess was never fair to you and wanted to return home to you clean and cured.

A few years passed and it didn’t make any sense for you to stay in the apartment you two shared together anymore. The constant reminder of him was too painful and the fear that he had overdosed or ended up in a ditch someone made you nauseous at the thought.

You had situated yourself in a New York apartment in some crumbling building, but it was all you could afford. You held onto a few photos of you and Robert, wanting to cherish his memory even if it was too painful to bear at times.

After a rough late night shift where you were barely getting home in the middle of the day, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and forget about the world for awhile.

As you were situating yourself in your room, you could hear multiple screams outside your apartment. With a world full of heroes and villains, you were accustomed to panic attacks whenever you could hear trouble. You didn’t know if it meant that there was another alien invasion or a masked murderer on the loose.

You hurriedly ran to your window, only to see a dark shadow creeping onto every surface and clinging to it. In the streets, citizens were reduced to shadows.

The air suddenly left your chest as you could see it scaling the walls right outside your window. Your feet began to walk backwards and you managed to turn and flee to the kitchen.

Without a second thought, you grabbed one photo from your fridge of you and Bob, smiling together while cooking dinner. You held it to your chest and tried to run out the front door, but it was too late.

The shadow’s grip took hold and the next thing you knew you were in a pitch black room.

You knew you were screaming because your lungs felt like they were burning. No sound came from your mouth, though.

It was all so sudden.

You were laying on the ground of your old apartment with your head ringing.

You began to cry, seeing that you were in the one place that broke you into a million little pieces.

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice cut through the air. “I told you to leave!”

You shakily raised your head up, seeing Robert leaning over you.

His eyes were manic, hair greasy and disheveled, clothes so dirty you thought he might have slept in dirt.

“Baby?” You said in a hushed voice.

“I don’t want you here anymore.”

Your slowly rose to your knees, grabbing for him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I left you. Where were you?”

“You left me there on the street.”

It was clicking in your head once more, it was a memory you didn’t want to relive.

“I had to, you… you were so high out of your mind you didn’t make sense.”

He scoffed pushing your needy hands away from him.

“You abandoned me when I needed you.”

He didn’t look like himself. He felt more colder than usual.

You finally stood to your feet even if you were shaking. “I’m here now. Please don’t leave me again. I thought you died.”

“You probably would’ve wanted that.”

“Never.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you reached for him again.

“Leave her alone!”

Suddenly there was a hoard of people who flung into the room.

You didn’t recognize any of them and moved backwards out of fear. “Who are you guys?”

They appeared to be heroes of some sort, and one of them with a shield barreled into Robert and slammed him into a wall.

“Wait! Don’t hurt him!” You screamed, running forward.

Before you could reach him, a pair of arms wrapped around you and held you back.

“Let me go! He needs me!” You shouted and struggled to get out of the grip of whoever was holding you tight.

You helplessly watched as Robert slid down the wall, but your shouts went silent as he faded into a black mist.

“I’m here now. I’m never leaving you again.”

You spun around and realized that you were being held by Robert. But he appeared healthier and not so rugged like the one who disappeared.

“Baby?” You whispered, reaching up to cup his face.

“It’s me.” He smiled, his hair framing his face in a way that made you think of fonder times. “I’m sorry for all that I did.”

You let out a shaky breath, just happy to see him again, safe and healthy in your arms. “It’s okay, baby. I know. All that matters is you’re here now. We can start over.”

You embraced him and held him close, wanting to never let go of him.

There was a sudden coldness and bright light enveloped you both. You opened your eyes to see you were on a city street.

Robert pulled away and looked towards the group of heroes who all were breathing out a breath of relief.

“They helped me.” He said in a grateful voice before turning to you. “I’m going to be better for you, now.”

You ran your finger over his lips like you always used to do before planting a sweet kiss on his lips. “I will be there every step of the way.”

[misssparklingpaws]

Shadow in the Flame

Chapter 17: Mr. and Mrs. Stark

It had been two weeks since Bob moved into Aria’s master suite.

Two long weeks.

Days were sharp, clean, focused.

Aria was still the same: no-nonsense, precise, and dead serious about every second of team training. She still yelled, still threw knives a little too close for comfort, and still had no patience for laziness. But there were… subtle shifts.

She now double-checked if Bob had eaten before briefings. She fixed his grip during combat drills without sarcasm. She actually laughed when he tripped over his own feet instead of sighing like he was a disappointment to physics.

And Bob? Bob practically glowed. He walked straighter. He talked more. Still anxious, still flustered but now with an undercurrent of quiet confidence. He’d kiss her forehead when she walked past, just a whisper of affection no one was supposed to notice.

And while the couple tried to keep things low-key in the daylight mostly the rest of the Thunderbolts had not been so lucky once the sun went down.

Because every night, without fail, the tower transformed into the backdrop of a very steamy indie romance movie. Complete with creaking furniture, the occasional broken object, muffled noises that made John want to bleach his brain, and a bassline of moaning that sounded suspiciously like someone thoroughly enjoying herself.

It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t so damn loud.

So when Bob stumbled into the kitchen that morning, shirtless, bruised, bleary-eyed but smiling like he’d won the lottery, no one was surprised.

Annoyed? Deeply.

Surprised? Not even a little.

Yelena didn’t look up from her coffee. “Morning, Casanova. Did the bed survive this time, or do we need to call Stark Industries for replacement parts?”

Bob blinked. “It was a reinforced frame.”

“Oh my God,” John groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Ava winced. “You shouldn’t have told us that.”

“I didn’t” Bob stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Before anyone else could join the roast, Aria entered the room like a damn queen hair sleek, coffee in hand, already in her sleek black Stark tactical suit. Zero signs she’d been tangled up with her man for hours last night.

“Good morning,” she said calmly, swiping a protein bar from the counter.

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “Okay, no. This is illegal. You can’t look like a Vogue cover while he looks like he just crawled out of a Roman orgy.”

Bob’s ears turned pink. “I… got a lot of sleep.”

“You got wrecked,” Bucky muttered, not even looking up from his cereal.

Aria raised an eyebrow. “Then maybe stop staring at him.”

Yelena, grinning, leaned her elbow on the table. “You know, we were almost happy for you two. Until we stopped sleeping. And started hearing sounds that scarred our souls.”

“I think I heard chanting,” John added, voice deadpan. “Or crying. Or chanting while crying.”

Ava nodded. “There was a thud. Then silence. Then a bang. Then… victorious breathing.”

Aria looked utterly unfazed. “You all sound unusually invested in our private life.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped “Private? Aria, the walls shook. The windows rattled. The tower is basically a live sex tape.”

Bob choked into his coffee.

“I’ll have the master suite soundproofed,” Aria said with a sigh, sipping her drink. “Happy?”

“No,” Yelena said, standing. “Because I’m tired. I’m cranky. And I have never heard so many headboard noises in my life.”

Aria opened her mouth to respond when Yelena cut her off.

“And don’t give me the I have needs’ excuse again!”

Bob nearly spat out his coffee.

“Fine,” Aria said dryly. “I won’t.”

She turned to go.

“By the way,” she added, glancing over her shoulder at Bob, “the balcony door’s broken again.”

Bob winced. “Sorry… I’ll fix it.”

Yelena collapsed into her chair with a dramatic groan. “If she breaks him, I swear I’m applying for emotional compensation from Stark Industries.”

Bucky chuckled. “I told you this would happen the second they made it official.”

Yelena threw a toast crust at Bob. “You better be worth the property damage.”

“HE IS!” Aria yelled from the corridor

Bob just blushed harder and quietly sipped his coffee.

---

Later that day they were mid-op, rappelling down the side of a sleek glass tower in Singapore. Thunderbolt missions rarely went smoothly, but so far, this one was quiet. Too quiet.

"Visual on target," Ghost said over comms. "South wing. Security’s light. We’re moving in."

“Copy that,” Bucky replied. “No mistakes. We’re in and out.”

Aria, perched on a rooftop with a sniper drone rig, checked the thermal scans. “Two guards at the elevator. You’ll want to loop the cameras in the east hall.”

“Already on it, boss bratz,” John muttered.

“Call me that again and I’ll redirect your parachute to Indonesia.”

Down on the ground, Bob and Yelena were stationed at the back entrance, waiting for her signal.

“Clear to move,” Aria said smoothly. “Go quiet. Go clean.”

Yelena cracked her neck. “Let’s go, Mr. Stark.”

There was a beat of silence across the comms.

“…What did you just call him?” Aria said, low and dangerous.

“I mean,” Yelena drawled as she pushed the door open, “he lives with you, he sleeps with you and by sleep I mean the nightly, building-shaking, mattress-destroying kind, he folds your hoodies, and makes you tea like a devoted little househusband. What else should I call him?”

“You could not,” Bob offered weakly.

“Oh, no, it’s revenge for last night that you didn’t let us sleep,” Bucky sighed. “Now this is canon.”

“Mr. Stark, do you copy?” John asked innocently, voice crackling with suppressed laughter.

“Do you have eyes on the package, Mr. Stark?” Ava added, completely deadpan.

“I hate all of you,” Bob groaned.

But the moment he said it, a quiet snort came through the comms. Aria. Laughing.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered gleefully. “That was her laughing. That’s twice in two days. She’s domesticated.”

“I am not,” Aria snapped, but her voice was warm, unconvincing.

“Face it,” John said, “you’re basically married. Secret tower wedding? Do we get invites?”

Bob muttered, “I already wrote my vows.”

More laughter erupted across the comms.

“You’re joking,” Bucky said.

“…A little,” Bob replied.

“You're not!” Yelena shrieked. “I knew it. This is a romance novel now.”

“Focus on the mission,” Aria growled.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ghost replied. “Just say the word, Mrs. Stark.”

“I swear to God—”

“Would you take his last name?” John mused. “Or would he take yours? You could hyphenate Reynolds-Stark.”

“Stark-Reynolds sounds cooler,” Yelena said.

“Stark-Reynolds sounds like a law firm that sues evil billionaires,” Bucky agreed.

Bob was fully blushing now, his voice strangled. “Can we please rob the villain and go home?”

“Right after Mr. Stark leads us to victory,” Yelena purred.

“Dead. You’re all dead,” Aria adjusted her scope with surgical precision. “If any of you get shot, I’m not patching you up.”

A pause.

“But I will be Stark-Reynolds.”

That silence? Pure, stunned, mission-derailing chaos.

“OH MY GOD SHE SAID IT”

[strkly]

misunderstanding

s.m: you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x avengers!gn!reader

w.c: 2k

c.w: hurt/comfort, bob being avoidant (but he means well), two idiots in love, hea, reader implied to be an og avenger, no use of y/n, thunderbolts spoilers obv. not proofread and intentionally lower case.

a.n: as soon as i finished the thunderbolts i wrote this LOL. im already working on like three more for him

After you had all saved the city and had been established as the new avengers you and bob had been inseparable. you had chucked it up to you just seeming the friendliest out of all of them but the looks the rest of the team all exchanged with one another anytime the two of you were around told you they thought otherwise.

you watched movies with him, went to go get milkshakes together, helped him with the chores around the base, there wasn't really a second the two of you weren't together unless you were out on a mission or sleeping.

yet as a recent theres been a shift. hes been avoiding you. its so obvious to not only you but everyone else in the team, he was more than happy to chat with yelena ava alexei hell he’d even rather talk to walker than he’d rather talk to you. the only person also seemingly receiving the cold shoulder from bob was bucky who shrugged when you asked him if he had any clue what was going on.

whenever you would walk into the room and smile at him he stared at you wide eyed before rushing out the room mumbling to himself before you could say anything to him. you tried not to let your heart break show on your face as you watched him flee the room as you had entered. you had been so determined to get him to talk to you today after over a week of nothing from him but watching him run away from you killed any sort of motivation you once had.

the pout only grows on your face as you feel yelena pat your back in pity. “i dont know what i did wrong.” shes quiet for a moment before she speaks, “dont worry im sure he’ll get over this weird phase and you’ll get back to normal in no time.” you look down at your feet and sigh, maybe she was right. you knew he struggled with his mental health maybe he just needed space yet the idea of that being it just made you feel worse. he had always confided in you, told things he wouldnt even tell the therapist he started seeing. it made you feel trust worthy, like the two of you had a bond stronger than words could describe. you like him, you like him so much your heart feels like its about to burst out of your chest at the thought of him.

it was later that same night. you could see the light peering out from under his door. he was up, but when you knocked on his door you were only greeted with silence. “bob?” silence. you sigh before pressing your head up against the door. “i just wanted to say goodbye, were leaving for the mission, me and bucky.” you can hear some shuffling inside at your words, you almost let yourself hope he’s about to come to the door but after a few more beats he still doesn’t respond.

“i miss you bob.” the words spill out before you’re able to stop them, “im sorry, for whatever ive done im so sorry, i just want use to go back to the way we were. i miss you so much, i hope we can talk once i’m back. goodbye.” you force yourself away from the door as the tears begin to pour down your face you don't even bother to glance back at the door as you exit the hallway and down to the area where bucky is waiting for you. he doesn't comment on your tear stricken face, simply just placing hand on your shoulder and asking if your ready to go. with a quick nod you join him on the ship and your off. you silently thank him for it.

what you don’t know is bob is curled up in a ball in his bed, pressing his face tightly against the stuffed bear you had bought him as a gift as he tried to silence his own sobs. it was for the better, he told himself over and over again. you didn't need him, not when you had him, you were better off without him as much as it made his heart ache.

five days. it had been five days since you had left and bob felt like he was losing his mind. he didnt leave his room, laying and rotting in his bed hoping the universe would just swallow him up. it took yelena and walker finally coming into his room to force him out of bed much to his dismay. he couldnt stomach to eat anything, shaking his head and hanging it down like a child clinging his stuffed bear to his chest while they tried. he knew it was a pathetic display but he couldnt find it in himself to care.

the rest of the team stares at him in pity, unsure of what to say. they all knew what he was going through, the only one oblivious to it was you, as walker finally sighed and opened his mouth to speak they all froze at the sound of the doors slamming open. ���can somebody call a doctor?” bucky called out and everyone turned to see him enter the room. you were held in buckys arms, all beaten up covered in blood. bobs head spins, he doesnt hear the sounds of everyone asking what happened he doesnt see ava running off to get medic all he sees if you and he faints.

the mission was supposed to be easy. it was easy, until the last guy standing ended up being a mutant neither of you were prepared for. you ended up taking the bigger hit and bucky quickly finished the job rushing to take you back to the tower. your injuries were not life threatening but you lost a lot of energy in the fight and had ended up knocked out for a couple days. when you regain consciousness the first thing you hear is his voice. bob. he’s talking with someone whos voice you an barely make out, based on the brass and tone you assume its bucky. you cant make out what he’s saying but you cant bring yourself to open your eyes just yet.

footsteps ensue with a couple final words exchanged before the gentle opening and closing of the door and suddenly you’re alone with him. you can hear the scrapping of a chair and suddenly his very warm body heat flows next to you, you can feel his hands playing with the blanket as he sniffs. “please wake up.” you still cant open your eyes, maybe you’re still too tired but a part of you thinks you simply want to hear what he’s going to say.

“im- im so stupid. im so so so so stupid. all ive been dreaming about is seeing you again,” you feel him place his head on your stomach and you try to keep your heart and breathing at a regular pace, “i wanna sit on the couch together and watch movies and drink milkshakes and talk about anything with you i miss you please i was so stupid please just wake up so i can hear your voice again.” your chest aches and you fight the frown growing on your face. you open your eyes, realizing his has his face turned away from you. when you go to speak he manages to beat you to it. “i was so jealous.”

his words have you almost gasping before quickly closing your eyes again realizing he was turning his head to look at you. your mind running a mile a minute, you had no clue what he was talking about but his words had you hopeful, you couldnt help but be eager for whatever he was about to say. “he’s so much cooler than me. i get why you must like him, i just,, i just wish i could be the one you like. the one you think is cool but i know im not worthy of that.” what? you almost find the word spilling out from your lips but you manage to stop yourself. “i just couldnt do it anymore, after i saw you guys in the kitchen, you were smiling at him, i couldnt make that ache in my chest go away like you taught me and whenever i saw you it just go worse so i ran away like a coward. im such a loser.”

it finally clicks. you remember.

it was late at night. you had stepped out of your room to get a glass of water. when you got to the kitchen bucky was also there drinking a glass of whiskey, the two of you chatted for a moment and when you opened up the dishwasher to get a glass you busted out laughing at the sight of his metal arm in the dishwasher. “what the hell is that doing in there?” “what how do you think i clean the damn thing?” ‘not in the dishwasher! you’re so stupid bucky.” he walks towards you and leans down to be face to face with you, “thats why you like me doll.” you grin and hit him on the chest, shaking your head. “shut up.”

you opened your eyes once more and realize he had pushed his face to be pressing against your stomach. slightly shaking as he sobbed lightly into the fabric. your heart ached, realizing how sad he must have been. how lonely he must have felt. he freezes when you put your hand on his hair lightly running your fingers through it. “i dont like bucky.” your words are course, its clear your throat is yearning for some sort of hydration but you dont care. his head flys up and he looks at you with his wide wet eyes. your name tumbles from his trembling lips but you still continue to speak. “ive known him for a long time, he’s called me that for forever, he was just joking around with me i dont like him i promise.” he continues to stare at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he clenches his jaw and looks down at the floor, mumbling to himself, “im so stupid.”

as much as it hurts you force yourself to sit up and touch his shoulder. he looks up at you, a much sadder expression having taken over his face. “i love you bob.” his breath hitches, “i love you so much it kills me.” you wait for him to say something back, anything in return but he simply stares. you wait for him, you’re so patience with him he just can’t help himself.

you yelp in surprise when he suddenly laches onto you and you fall back with him ontop of you. you ignore how much your body burns in pain as he shoves his head in your neck. “i love you i love you so much.” you feel so much relief your eyes burn with tears. you can hear him mumbling over and over again that he loves you and it feels unreal, like youre dreaming and youll wake up soon.

“bob look at me.” he reluctantly pulls away from you and stares at you with heart eyes, your hands gently cup his face before pressing your lips against his. he eagerly but sloppily returns it, clearly inexperienced but you cant even find yourself caring as you can feel him brightly smile against you all other thoughts float away from you.

hours later when bucky comes back to check on you a smile falls on his lips as he sees bob laying on top of you and the two of you asleep peacefully, both of you unknowingly smiling in your sleep. he shakes his head before walking away. he pulls out his phone and clicks a couple things before raising it to his ear as he walks down the hall. “you own me 50 sam i told you they would get together.”

[callsign-fox]

Dance with Me? - Bob/Robert Reynolds

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

Super fluffy, no warnings xo

I knew this movie would get me to write again, and I haven't even seen it yet! Don't worry, I am seeing it tomorrow ;)

Bucky’s apartment wasn’t home—but it was the closest thing to it. Nestled in a secured corner of Brooklyn, reinforced by his new position as a Congressman, it was a safe haven. A quiet place to hide. It was where Y/N had been laying low ever since she’d turned into a massive, flaming Phoenix above Manhattan—an event that had sent the world into a panic. The headlines hadn’t stopped. Neither had the government’s search.

The Phoenix inside her was too new. Too wild. Too dangerous. So, she stayed hidden. Waiting. Healing.

But that quiet broke the moment the Thunderbolts burst through Bucky’s door, weapons holstered but tension palpable—and someone new in their midst.

Something inside her shifted.

Light moved over her skin like a breeze—curious, tingling, alive. She felt it before she even saw him. From her place curled on the couch, Y/N lifted her head, gaze narrowing on the stranger. Her voice was calm, but her instincts were alert.

“Who's your new friend?”

“This is Bob,” Bucky replied casually, already heading toward the kitchen like this was just another Tuesday.

But Bob… wasn’t just another face.

Y/N’s eyes lingered longer than they should have. She could feel it—that coiled, restrained power humming beneath his skin. But deeper than that was something raw. Broken. Familiar.

He met her gaze, but didn’t smile.

She wondered if he felt her too.

Rising from the couch, Y/N moved a step closer, her voice soft. “He’s not like the rest of you.”

“No,” Yelena cut in, her eyes sharp. “Is this where you’ve been hiding the past few months?”

“Maybe,” Y/N answered, a sly grin tugging at her lips as she picked up her empty mug and headed to the kitchen.

“You’re a terrible government official,” Yelena called after Bucky. “Hiding a nuclear-level threat under your own roof. Cute.”

“I’m not a threat,” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

Yelena mumbled something under her breath that Y/N chose to ignore. Bob quietly slipped into one of the armchairs while Yelena turned to the group.

“We’ve got things to discuss. Mind babysitting, Phoenix?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Bob said, barely louder than a breath. But even he didn’t sound convinced.

Y/N moved back into the living room, her fingers trailing along the back of the couch as she sat, perching at its edge. Yelena took the hint and filed out, Bucky following her with a last glance.

“You two don’t get into any trouble,” he said before the door clicked shut behind him.

Silence settled over the apartment like dust in sunlight.

Y/N rose slowly, her bare feet brushing over the cool hardwood floor. She could feel him watching her—his presence tugging at something inside her chest. It was strange. Electric. Right.

“You don’t talk much,” she said quietly.

Bob’s voice was rough, but not unfriendly. “Not a lot to say.”

She didn’t push. Instead, she turned to the bookshelf, flipping through the records until her fingers landed on something smooth and timeless—Sam Cooke. She dropped the needle, and the music filled the apartment like warmth spilling from an open window.

Turning to face him, she lifted a brow. “When’s the last time you smiled?”

He blinked. “I don’t really know.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Well… I don’t know you yet, Bob, but I have a feeling I can fix that.”

She held out her hand. He stared at it, confused.

“What?”

“Dance with me?”

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, maybe. Hope. He didn’t move, not at first.

“You want me to dance with you?”

“You heard me,” she teased, her grin growing. “A pretty girl is asking you to dance, you’re not going to turn her down, are you?”

He opened his mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to laugh—but no words came. Instead, he slipped his hand into hers and stood, slow and uncertain.

His hand was warm in hers. Solid. Real.

“One song,” she said softly. “No brooding. No worrying. Just… be human with me. Just for a moment.”

She guided him in, gently placing his hand on her waist, her other hand resting against his chest. It had been years since someone touched him like that—like he wasn’t dangerous. Like he wasn’t broken.

She moved first—swaying slowly, fluid and graceful. Bob was stiff at first, clumsy and hesitant, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t watching his feet.

She was watching his face.

“What are you, anyway?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

His eyes narrowed, shadows flickering behind them. “Something powerful. Too powerful.”

She studied him for a beat, then nodded with a hint of a smirk. “Sounds like you’d give me a run for my money.”

He gave a small shrug, unreadable. “Maybe.”

But he didn’t look away, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re allowed to let go sometimes you know,” she whispered, her breath brushing against his cheek. “I do.”

His eyes met hers, flickering with something fragile. “What happens if I let go… and everything falls apart?”

She tilted her head, inching closer. “Then we dance in the ashes.”

Something in him unraveled.

His shoulders dropped, his arm relaxed against her waist—and then, for the first time in what might’ve been forever, he smiled.

Y/N’s heart skipped, and she beamed back at him.

“There it is,” she said. “And it’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

His smile lingered, shy and uncertain, but real. Y/N felt it again—like a pull deep in her chest, a thread tying her to him. It wasn’t just the dance or the song. It was him. The quiet storm beneath his surface. The sense that somehow, even though they'd just met, he wasn’t a stranger.

Their movements slowed until they were barely swaying, just standing in each other’s space. Close. Breath mingling.

Her hand slid up from his chest to rest just over his heart. “That smile looks good on you.”

Bob looked down at her, his brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a rather difficult puzzle. “You feel… familiar,” he murmured, his voice soft and reverent, like he was afraid of breaking whatever moment they’d stumbled into. 

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “I was thinking the same thing.”

The air between them shifted—charged, magnetic. Her eyes flicked to his lips just as he leaned the smallest bit closer. His hand at her waist tightened, just slightly, anchoring them in that fragile, suspended second.

It felt like the world had gone still, like the Phoenix inside her was holding its breath.

Then—

Click.

The front door swung open.

“You leave them alone for five minutes,” Bucky’s voice filled the room, too casual and far too loud, “and they throw a damn prom.”

Y/N took a sharp step back, cheeks flushed, pretending she hadn’t just been about to kiss a man she’d known for less than an hour.

Bob ran a hand through his hair and turned away, the moment shattered like glass underfoot.

Bucky blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Y/N said, voice an octave too high as she reached to turn off the record player. “Just... entertaining your guest.”

Bob sat back down without a word, his eyes carefully avoiding hers now, like if he looked again, he’d lean right back in.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Right. Well. We’ve got updates. Let’s all have a chat, shall we?”

Y/N nodded, but as she brushed past Bob on her way to the kitchen, her fingers grazed his—and just for a second, she felt that spark again. That pull.

Whatever this was between them—it wasn’t done yet.

Technically Part 2 - Space to Breathe

[sunflowerdjarin]

Company

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x Reader

Warnings: None?

A/N: I have not written fanfiction in literal years, so be gentle with me and let me know if you would like more of Bob.

-

“Will you keep Bob company?” He asked. “He gets lonely sometimes and he likes you, really.” Bucky reassured. Bob only truly spoke to you when necessary. It was nothing rude. Bob didn’t have a rude bone in his body, you knew that, but placing two rather reserved people in a room together didn’t lead to the most exhilarating conversations.

You nodded back, “I can do that. I’m not sure how, but I can do that.” You looked down at the to do list for the tower and at the bottom added a swift note, “Keep Bob company.” With a star next to it. “Thank you. I appreciate it, and I’m sure he will too.”

The first day was quiet. Bob sat alone in his room. He knew it wasn’t the best idea for him. It was after all isolation. He had been so used to the house buzzing with lively characters. Instead, he could only hear your light footsteps and soft humming through the floor. There was a light background noise coming from the television from the main living room. Bob wasn’t meaning to avoid you. He never meant to avoid you. You made him so incredibly flustered that he felt all thoughts leave his head, which made it difficult for conversation.

There was a light tap on the door. “Come- Come in.” Bob called out. The door lightly opened. You stood in a plain colored t-shirt with sweatpants on. Bob had only ever seen you in your professional attire. This was a stark difference that Bob clearly liked better. He was sitting on his bed cross legged with a sweater on and sweats. A smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight. Bob noticed. He noticed everything about you. “Alpine missed you.” Bob looked down at the black cat swirling around your ankles that then jumped up onto Bob’s bed. He rubbed against Bob’s chest then laid down in his lap.

“What’s your comfort meal?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe. You wanted to be able to walk in with the same freedom as Alpine, but crawling onto Bob’s bed felt more invasive for you than for the cat. “Comfort meal?” Bob questioned looking up from Alpine. His eyebrows knitted together. “You know, a meal that makes you feel all nice and warm?” Bob hummed in response. Dinners didn’t exactly bring him comfort as a child. As a result, Bob didn’t exactly eat for comfort, but more for survival. “I don’t know, maybe, um, chicken noodle soup?”

“Chicken noodle soup,” you thought of the ingredients in the kitchen. “I can do that.” You turned off of the door frame and disappeared from Bob’s sight causing Alpine to follow suit. “Come on, Bob, I need company while I cook.” He scampered off of the bed nearly falling while following after.

He sat at the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. The television buzzing had turned out to be a marathon of romcoms. He hadn’t expected that from you, but he wasn’t necessarily surprised. You moved calmly through the kitchen, cleaning and putting away things as you go. You moved with such surety that it comforted Bob. He hadn’t brought anything to the counter to accompany him and occupy his mind. The only thing occupying his mind, was you. “So, Bob, our itinerary for tomorrow,” Bob’s eyebrows knitted together again. “I don’t know if you knew this about me, but I am like a flower.” Delicate and beautiful? Bob thought. “If I don’t see the sun, I will wither away. So, I was thinking we could go for a walk and go sit out in the park? Early in the morning preferably.” You looked up as the pot came to a simmer. Bob’s eyebrows slowly unknitted and he eased into a smile. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds really nice.” You could see his shoulders ease. He would have gone anywhere with you.

Bob officially understood what a comfort meal was while sitting with you on the couch with a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. The rest of the team weren’t the best in the kitchen. With them constantly on the move, most things they made were meant to be on the go, something quick and easy preferably. “Do you always make dinner like this?” He asked, stretching his legs out on the couch. His chest felt warm, just like you had said. “I do. It’s a part of my routine, like a form of self care. Something homemade and warm.” Bob nodded in response. You stretched out your legs as you put your bowl on the end table. Your foot brushed against Bob’s outstretched legs. A shiver ran up Bob’s back. He worried what would happen even with his powers under control and both of you having a layer of clothing separating you two. He missed physical touch. Something must have crossed his face as he looked from your foot to your face. “I’m not afraid, Bobby.” You said lightly as your climbed off of the couch, taking your bowl with you to wash. If there was anyone in the world that he didn’t want to fear him, it was you. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

You appeared back into living room. Bob’s head stayed focused forward still dazed. You ruffled his hair while standing behind him on the couch. His brown locks were soft in your hands. “Have a good night, Bobby, if you need anything at all, let me know.” He looked up to you and nodded quickly. There were tears in his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed quickly in an effort for the tears to not fall. You smiled sweetly down to him before walking to your room. Bob sat there for another minute holding his breath till he heard your shower running. He blinked quickly and wiped away any remnants of tears. The warmth in his chest had boiled outwards to the rest of his body. Fear crossed his mind, that this could be one of his highs. He hadn’t ever felt this kind of warmth that wrapped around him. He climbed off of the couch, washed his dishes, and went to bed himself with Alpine curled up against his legs.

The next morning, Bob woke up to you opening his currents gently. He could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen drifting through his bedroom door. He stirred awake, sitting up on his elbows in bed. It was only then that you realized he was not wearing a shirt. His chest was so light and toned. His hair was wild and he looked so peaceful. You lost just about every word you could have possibly said. He filled in the silence, “Did you sleep well?” He rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “I did. You didn’t need me last night, did you?” Need you? No. Wanted you? Absolutely. Bob though, but instead he opted to say, “No, I went to sleep not long after you.” He pulled a sweater over his head and climbed out of bed. “Come on, breakfast, walk, park.” You said as you lead him to the kitchen.

Bob was greeted by pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs just how he liked them. “How did you know?” He asked as he sat down with his plate. “I’m observant.” You shrugged, not looking up from your plate. He noticed that unlike his other housemates, you did not fuel yourself with a straight black coffee. “No coffee?” He asked, sipping his orange juice. “No, I try to.... stay away from caffeine. It, um, makes me anxious.” Once again, your eyes didn’t meet his. This routine, it all helped you, so you hoped it could help Bob too. You both ate your breakfast quietly before splitting up to get ready for the day.

You guided Bob down the street. He wasn’t used to this. He preferred to stay inside where he would have less interactions with others, less chances of inconveniencing others. He enjoyed the feeling of sunshine on his face. After making it to the park, you laid out a blanket on the ground. You had come prepared with books for you and Bob. Instead, Bob laid on his back with his face towards the sun. There was a light breeze moving his waves to tap against his face. His breathing had slowed and the warmth was back. It spread all over his body. He opened his eyes to see you watching him, your book being lost in your lap. “I love to see you like this.” You smiled at him. It was earnest and real, he could hear it in your voice. There was a soft glow on your skin. He wondered if you felt the same warmth all over. You laid down next to him. Your pinkies brushed together, which lead you to link your pinky with his. A testament to your words last night. You weren’t afraid of him and he could tell. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

On the walk back home, you held onto Bob’s hand. You initially grabbed it so loosely, in case he wanted to pull away. Bob, who was in such desperate need for more and more of your touch, grabbed back with much more ferocity. The walk back was silent, but so much had been said. You could most certainly check off that last box on your to do list and you hoped that you could keep checking it off for days to come, never as an inconvenience, but as a privilege.

[gay-dorito-dust]

bob as sentry: *cassually bends john's shield like it's nothing*

you: he can bend me anyday-

ava: STOP!

yelena: i swear if this is going to be a common occurance i'm going to have to gag them.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Imagine Bob not knowing you had a cat.

One morning he wakes up to a faint purring noise, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes and sees a cat sitting on his chest sleeping. "Uh--hi?" He quietly says completely confused. The cat stops their purring and meows softly back at him he watches as they stand on his chest and walk in two short circles before sitting back down and purring louder than before.

Bob decided he wouldn't move until the cat did, he thought he would be stuck there for a few minutes maybe 30 max... he was there for hours.

He didn't mind if he was being honest. The purring had a calming effect on him and the cat's fur was well taken care of with how soft it felt against his hand. He was just confused as to where the cat came from, and as you could imagine the cat wasn't answering any of his questions.

Everyone was getting concerned, no one had seen Bob all morning and it was now well past lunch when they decided to form a search party. You were concerned about Bob but also about another completely different reason. Where the hell was your cat?? When you mentioned your second, more prioritized concern John scoffed at you. "Seriously? A cat? Where the hell is Bob?? Isn't that more important?" And while yes it was important to find Bob and make sure he was okay, that cat was your stability. You needed to find the damn cat. And Bob...

Finally, after an additional hour searching Yelena realized no one had gone to Bob's bedroom to look for him. After mumbling about how she works with morons she went to his bedroom and knocked on the door using their secret code. Bob let his head perk up while keeping his body as still as possible when he heard the secret knocks. "Come in" he softly said breaking the silence he and the cat had been sitting in. When the cat gave him a slight glare he quickly apologized before smiling at Yelena when her silhouette appeared. "Hey, you need something?" He asked her, excited to help if possible.

Yelena stood in disbelief. Bob wasn't missing, neither was your damn cat. But a beautiful friendship obviously formed in the hours the team spent searching for the two. She sighed and shook her head before calling out into the hallway. "Y/N! Found your damn cat"

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

[day-dreamed]

pretty isn't pretty

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader summary: when you have to get dressed up for one of valentina’s galas, bob makes it his mission to remind you of how beautiful you are. tags: insecure reader, reader wears a dress, hurt/comfort word count: 492 author's note: was feeling a bit down so thought i would write this. bob is such a sweetheart i luv him <3 as always feedback would be greatly appreciated!

You stare at yourself in the mirror, eyes burning with unshed tears. The dress you’ve chosen to wear to Valentina’s gala looks absolutely horrendous on you. It’s too late to choose another as the event starts in fifteen minutes. A multitude of self-deprecating thoughts fill your head, and you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. 

A knock at your door followed by your name being called makes you jump. 

“Are you okay?”

It’s Bob. Of course, it’s Bob. You let out an unsteady breath. 

“I’m fine,” you call back, voice cracking. 

Silence from the other side of your door. Then, “Can I come in?”

You ponder if you should let him. The thought of Bob seeing you in your current state terrifies you. On the other hand… you know that he’d be able to offer you the comfort that you desperately need. Your mind wars with itself until you hear him speak again. 

“I’m going to come in, okay?” 

Your heart drops. “Bob, wait—”

The door swings open. He stands in front of you, a frown on his lips and his brows creased in concern. When his eyes meet yours, though, they widen, his mouth parting slightly. You duck your head, cheeks growing warm from his attention. 

“I look horrible, I know—”

“What?” 

You wrap your arms around your waist, hugging yourself tightly. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” you sigh.

“You look… amazing.” 

“No, I don’t. I wish we didn’t have to go to this stupid gala.” 

Bob takes a small step closer to you. “You really think you don’t look beautiful right now?” 

Your breath hitches in your chest. “Bob…” 

“Because you do.”

A tear trails down your cheek as you let out a watery laugh. “I don’t feel it.” 

Slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll run away if he makes any sudden movements, Bob raises a hand to your cheek. He uses the pad of his thumb to gently wipe away the stray tear. 

“I—I wish you saw yourself the way I do.”

“How do you see me?” you ask, your voice so small that you’re not sure if he’s heard you. 

He smiles, the dimples that you love making their appearance at the corners of his mouth. “As the most beautiful woman in the world. And not just at this moment, either. You’re always beautiful,” he whispers.

Warmth blooms in your chest. “You’re such a sap.” 

Bob leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “Only for you,” he mumbles against your mouth. When he pulls back, his cheeks have turned an adorable shade of pink. “Do you think you’re ready to go? The rest of the team is waiting but I can stay here with you if you need more time—”

“I’m ready to go.” You reach for his hand and give his fingers a small squeeze. “As long as I have you, I’ll be okay.”

[nghtwngs]

pleaseee send bob reynolds requests!! i just wrote a 12k fic for him, and it’s still not enough but i literally have no ideas now… i’d honestly like to write something a lot more personal and emotionally intimate with him so if there are any ideas out there guys pls help a girl out

ask here :)