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websterss · 1 month ago

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THE WOES OF BOWTIES AND MISSING PUZZLE PIECES — ROBERT REYNOLDS

REQUEST: reemoony asked: loveeee your writing and I hope this request reach you. Can you make Bob and y/n are liking each other but they never say it but everyone is well aware of their feelings. One day Bob having a rough day and void jumps out, creating quite a chaos. She tries to talk him through it but void being void thinking she’s a liability for them, he “consumed” her. Few moments after that he turns back into Bob & other people came back from void but not her. Angsty angsty but with happy ending please. Sorry if this complicated, just change it into what you feel right and easier.

WARNING(S): SPOILERS?? me trauma dumping on page 24 for the plot (google doc verified) ANGST AND MORE ANGST, mentions of toxic relationship, someone dies, Bob needs a hug, and a kiss, and lots of reassurance, and probably therapy, happy ending I swear!! I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this one, folks. I hope I hit everything, this should've been two parts lmfao. I am not responsible for your therapy bills.

WORD COUNT: 18,593 (don't kill me I was on the roll)

PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! :) Feedback is always welcome! I was truly second-guessing posting this. I’m starting to feel like I don’t have the writing means to handle Bob with such care like some of y'all do.😭 but here we are. This took me a week y’all, ya girls tired <3

MASTERLIST

The evening had come around the corner faster than Bob could grasp. Alexei was making last-minute calls to use their time wisely so that they might show up to the event at a cordial time. He would have if he could get his hair to cooperate with him.

"Knock. Knock." Yelena announces, tapping on Bob's ajar door. He stands in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of his room. His black tie attire contrasts with the baggy, loose-fitting hoodie and sweats he wears around the place. The fitted tux does nothing to hide his trained physique.

Yelena exclaims with earnestness. "Wow! Look at you!" She's whistling for effect. Impressed by how well he cleaned up. "Do I smell cologne on you, sir?" Her smile grows.

He stood straight, his eyes widening in the mirror as he turned to face her. His gaze softened, taking in her all dolled up and out of her usual tactical gear. The green was different from the black she wore. He thought then and there that she should wear more colorful outfits. He nods once, dipping his chin to nuzzle his nose into the collar. He inhales deeply.

"It's the one you gifted me for my birthday…Thought I’d give it a try…Thanks…You're not so bad yourself. You...You look beautiful." He smiles sheepishly as he spares her another once-over, bashful.

Yelena grins, thoroughly pleased to hear Bob’s compliment. In the best of ways, it was pleasant to have her efforts noticed.

“Why, thank you,” She responds with genuine gratitude. She spins in place, the skirt of her emerald green dress flowing flawlessly with the motion. She sits on the edge of the bed, flopping down, grabbing one of Bob’s pillows to hold onto. “You look good in a suit, bud. Almost ready?"

"Yeah...Yeah, just need to finish up with my hair. That's all. It’s not...responding well to the hairspray you lent me, though." He pulls at a strand. Bob’s hair was relatively problematic. No order, flow, or movement that made sense to the careful eye.

Bob turns back to the mirror. Messing up his hair, parting it to the left, before parting it to the right, trying to maintain its order, but he’s made no progress, thus far.

She smirks, amused by his struggle. "Ah, the woes of getting ready. I should have given you gel; it works miracles better than that stuff. Why don’t I take a look, huh? Maybe I can offer my expertise. We do share the same hairstyle, after all." She rises from the bed, approaches him, and notes the tousled locks that stick out at various angles.

“I don’t wanna take up more of your time…”

“Nonsense.” She motions for him to come here to begin her work. "So….trying to impress anyone?"

Bob glances down at her before focusing back on himself. He tilts his head, feeling the way the suit hugs him. The jacket stops at his waist, not swallowing him whole like his hoodies, which secure him like a blanket. Everything fits justly. He feels exposed. Yelena pauses her movements, watching the uncertainty take over his frown, as though he’s weighing something significant. The tension is all in his shoulders.

"No...not really…Just–trying to make myself look the part." His response was vague, not giving away the reason for his meticulous grooming.

Yelena quirks an eyebrow. She’s perceptive. Nothing gets past her, especially when it comes to her teammates. She hums as she moves behind him, scrutinizing his hair from a new angle. "Really? Just trying to look the part?" She questions, her tone filled with skepticism. She playfully runs her fingers through his hair, testing its resistant nature. "So, you're not trying to impress a special someone? Not even the pretty lady getting ready across the hall from us?"

Bob pauses momentarily, caught off guard by her direct assumption. He turns his head towards her, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. He can't completely mask his surprise at her astute comment.

"N-No." He shakes his head a bit too quickly.

Yelena smirks, her keen insight confirmed. She can see right through Bob's attempts at nonchalance. His sudden denial made it even more apparent that he was trying to hide his infatuation. There was no hiding behind it though. They all knew.

She steps closer to him, her gaze never wavering. "So you got all dressed up and started messing with your hair for an hour, just for the sake of looking the part?" Yelena cocks her head slightly to one side.

"Yes." He nods his head stubbornly. "Just trying to look the part..." He swallows nervously before he fixes his attention back to his appearance.

Yelena lets out a faint laugh at his repeated insistence. Her eyes narrow playfully; she ruffles spots of hair here and there. She moves over to the other side of him before continuing her touch-ups. "Y'know, Bob..." She starts, her voice low and light. "You're not a very good liar." She places a hand gently on his shoulder, leaning in slightly. “I’ve thought you better than that, sir.”

"I'm sorry…" Bob releases a sigh.

Yelena continues to fiddle with his hair from the new angle. Her touch is gentle. "S’alright… You try to hide it, she tries to hide it. You both are not very good at this thing. But we all see the way you look at each other." She speaks with a soft but knowing tone. As if she's been patiently waiting for him to acknowledge his feelings. "You see her like she’s the quiet that fills the void inside you, all the noise goes out and she’s there, bringing you that peace, and she sees you like you’re the sunrise she’s always been eager to see after she’s been living in the dark her whole life."

Bob laughs, the sound nervous, mixed in with a scoff. He's in denial. "I…I don't know what you're talking about."

Yelena chuckles at this, her smirk growing. "Oh, come on, Bob." She moves around him again, standing before him, her eyes meeting his gaze pointedly. "You think we haven't noticed how your eyes light up whenever she enters a room? She stumbles over her words when you ask her a simple question. Your gross motor skills somehow fail you when you see the tiniest hint of her smile? And she spews weird little facts that no one can make sense of." She shakes her head slightly, amused. "You're in love, as is she, and we can all see it. Last week, you fumbled a book when she spoke to you in the kitchen."

"I slipped..." Bob looked down, shrugging his shoulders, feigning indifference to your past interactions.

"You were sitting down. The book was closed."

Bob begins to teeter back and forth to try to calm himself. "Are…Are you done?" He meets her gaze through the glass. His eyes flitted up to his now messily but organized hairdo. His eyes crinkle at the sight. "It looks the same."

Yelena chuckled, her eyes gleaming. His words felt like a cover, a desperate attempt to deflect from the truth. She playfully patted his shoulder before moving closer, standing directly behind him again. She perched her chin on his shoulder. "You shouldn't fuss so much, you look great. As for your unruly hair, I only messed with it a tiny bit." Yelena pinched her fingers. "Figured some part of yourself should remain true tonight..." Yelena reached up to tousle it for show. "Also, I have it on good authority that a certain birdy has told me she likes it when it resembles a bird's nest." He doesn't miss her wink through the glass.

He still can't help but release his doubts to the widow. The way his self-esteem remains low. “I don’t feel great, Yelena. This…This isn’t me. This suit, my hair, and the nice shoes. It feels like I’m putting on a mask.”

"Bob, listen to me," She says, squeezing his shoulder. "I know it might feel weird. It is a bit weird. You're wearing a fancy suit with your hair slightly combed and shoes that aren't sneakers." She lets out a faint laugh. "But you're not hiding yourself away. Putting yourself into a box approved by Valentina." Yelena gently turns him around to face her. "You're just allowing yourself to be seen in a different light.” She squeezes his shoulder again, reassuringly. "You deserve to feel great about yourself."

"I feel good in sweatpants."

Yelena laughs heartedly this time; she loves how adamant he can be. "We all do." She gives him a light, playful nudge. "But that's not going to fly tonight. You're going to wear the suit, you're going to go out with your friends, have a great time, all while looking good." She grins, her tone light.

"I don't feel good though..."

Yelena senses his unease. She meets his gaze again, her expression serious yet compassionate. "You are incredibly good looking, Bob. You're just not used to feeling that way, seeing yourself in that way. We've all had these moments. Hell, I've had my share," She admitted, her smile briefly fading. She quickly catches herself and tries to uplift the mood again. "It's just one party. How bad can it be?" She nudges him again, this time laying a playful punch to his chest. "Just this once, humor me. Let yourself experience something out of your normal routine." She reaches up to fix a strand playing stubborn. "Also, the little birdie has told me she loves the sight of a man in a crisp suit, too." She nudges him twice with her elbow.

"Okay." He laughs at her incredulous antics and light teasing. A beat passes before his brow furrows. "We have a bird?"

Yelena bursts into laughter at his question. "Oh my god- No." She grabs him on the arm to ground herself. Her voice filled with mirth. “Bob, no. We...We don't have a bird." She shakes her hands and head. "It's just a figure of speech. It means I have inside information. It's- Oh Bob." Yelena's shoulders slump in defeat. Bob offers a timid grin before he laughs lightly with her, finally understanding what she meant.

"Oh right...Y/n’s the bird. I-I get it now." Bob rocks back and forth with a solid nod.

Yelena playfully rolls her eyes but can't help but smile at Bob's delayed reaction. "Yes, she's the bird.”

Bob glances back at his reflection, still weighing his options. "Is it too late to change into my robe?"

Yelena chuckles at his attempt to escape the situation. “Well, you certainly can’t show up to a gala in pajamas. Sorry, buddy. No PJs tonight. You're stuck in the suit until the party's over." She grins at him, her tone playful but filled with determination. "And I'm also eighty-eight percent sure Valentina will kill you if you set foot into the venue looking like you just rolled out of bed, so the tux stays on."

“It wouldn’t be the first time…” He avoids her gaze, his cheeks still dusted with a slight tint, a mixture of embarrassment and reluctance. A bit of his inner turmoil was still cracking through the surface. "I… I should stay home tonight."

Yelena's eyes soften once more as he suggests excluding himself from the event tonight. "No, no. You're going, Bob. Don't even think about backing out now." She steps closer to him, her gaze steady and firm. "You look great! Listen to me; we want you to get out of your robes and that blue sweater you always wear. Take you out for once since you're always here at the tower. Bob, surely you wouldn't want to miss the chance to see how stunning Y/n looks in her evening gown, would you? Gorgeous." She emphasizes.

Bob falls quiet for a moment, contemplating her words. His mind drifts, picturing how you might look all dressed up. Your hair done all nice, maybe some jewelry, nothing too flashy, since you preferred decorating your fingers and ears with simplistic pieces. He can't help but wonder what color might adorn your perfect smile. Red, maybe orange, perhaps that color you told him was called mauve, with your lips lined.

I...I bet you look pretty. He thinks.

Yelena grins, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She can see the thought of you in his mind, the vivid image of you dressed to the nines igniting a spark in his expression. She catches his brief moment of daydreaming before he catches himself, his gaze snapping away from the pillow to meet hers.

"Bob..." Yelena's voice edges amused.

"I just..." Bob starts, then lets out a frustrated exhale. "I'm not really... I'm not the party type, you know. I always stayed indoors growing up. I never went out much. I never had this. Friends who wanted to be around me. This gala is far from my normal routine. I don’t think letting me go out so soon would be a good idea. It’s been a year. You guys said it yourself, you don't want to risk Void getting out again. You...You guys would be better off going without me. I can stay behind…I don’t mind."

She understands that he harbors doubts and fears about his place among them.

"Bob..." Yelena tilts her head, staring at him pointedly, her voice gentle yet firm. "We aren't keeping you locked up to contain 'Void'. It's not about that. Not anymore." She reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're not a ticking time bomb, you never have been. We want you there with us. Even Y/n, alright? If it puts your mind at ease, even for just one second. She was the one who suggested we bring you along with us. Not because we feel it’s our obligation, and no one can watch you. But because we genuinely want to see you out of this place, cleaned up! We don't want to see you holed up in this tower forever, okay?"

Bob's heart skips at the mention of you wanting him there, too. He fidgets momentarily, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his shoes. The polished shine on them reminded him that he could have these things now. The privilege of owning nice things.

Nice things never last long. In his life at least.

“Okay…” His mind whirls with the never-ending feeling of being a bother and a burden. He's hesitant, torn between his desire to attend and his habitual tendency to keep to himself. He bites his lip, the urge to decline the invitation was tempting against the subtle want of not wanting to be stuck at the tower…alone. "I just..." His hands lingers over his naked collar.

Her voice is gentle with a hint of encouragement. “You what, Bob?” She waits for him to verbalize his concerns; she’s patient.

"No...It's stupid." He brushes it off with a laugh.

"No, say it!" She encourages.

"No. I should stay home-"

"Bob, tell me." Yelena dipped her head to meet his eyes. He gives in after a moment.

"...I don't know how to put a tie on." He laments, lamely gesturing to the fabric he had tossed on his bed moments earlier, having given up on trying to do it himself. His father was absent from teaching him how to put one one. He never did get to bond over a silly thing, such as a tie with him. The rite of passage, or whatever they call it. The transition into becoming a man, knowing how to tie one yourself.

Yelena chuckles softly at his confession, her amusement tinged with empathy. Her eyes flicker towards the abandoned tie on the bed.

"Oh, Bob..." She gently pats his shoulder this time. "Don't worry; we can sort it out, alright." She takes his hand and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. She picks up the tie, draping it around his neck. "You know... You could have just asked me." She says gently, wrapping the tie around his neck.

"You already helped with my hair." He shakes his head.

Yelena playfully rolls her eyes at his stubbornness, carefully ensuring one end is slightly longer. This difference would account for the tie’s eventual knot later. Yelena crossed the longer end over the shorter one, then pulled it under the shorter end and through the loop around Bob's neck. She continued folding the shorter end at the widest part to create a bow shape.

"Yes, but that's no excuse. You could have asked. Nothing wrong with asking for more help." With the bow shape firmly in place, she brought the longer end directly over it. Pinching the bow shape and the longer end together, carefully threading the longer end through a loop she had opened in the back of the bow. She then pulled both ends to tighten them in place.

"See? Sorted out." She pats his chest, stepping back to look over her handiwork and adjusting the fabric until she is satisfied with how it sits at his neck.

"Thanks...I was never taught how." Bob trails off, not wanting to bring forth thoughts of his father. They were never pleasant.

She notices the hint of melancholy in his voice upon mentioning not being able to put on a tie, but she chooses to move past it, not wanting to dampen the moment. Instead, she pats his chest once more, grinning. "Don't worry, Alexei doesn’t either." She winks at him once more.

He nods out of curiosity before he even registers what he's asking. "Does…Does Y/n know how to tie a tie?"

Yelena raises her eyebrow at his question. She tries to hide a smirk, realizing where his mind is currently at. "Hmm...You know, I'm not entirely sure. But..." She pauses, enjoying the moment. "If I had to guess, I'd bet she would. She's got an endless amount of skills hidden beneath the surface. Surely tying ties is a secret she has, wouldn’t hurt to ask her about it."

"I-I wouldn't put it past her…She's great at everything." His admiration was not lost on her.

"That she is..." Yelena smirks. “You should tell her you know. That you’re in love with her.” She nudges his foot with her heel.

He wrings his hands together, leaning onto his elbows placed on his knees. As tempting as it sounds, he wouldn't be able to gain the confidence to execute it. Confessing to you how he felt. The feelings he harbored. "No…It’s better this way. If I keep it to myself."

Yelena's expression softens at his reluctance. She sits next to him, considering his words. "Bob, listen to me. Life…it’s too short to keep something like that to yourself. I've seen you around her, the way your worries fade. That sense of security that she brings you. That you bring to her. It’s all in the risk worth taking." Yelena continues, choosing her words with care. "Don't let fear keep you from telling her how you feel. You'll never know what might happen if you don’t take that chance."

He meets her gaze. His locks falling over his eyes, hiding him. "What if I mess it all up?”

“I don’t think you could.”

“And if I do…I don’t want to hurt Y/n.”

“Relationships get messy, Bob, it’s part of growing together. Do you think we’d be here today, as the new avengers if we continued to butt heads every time?”

“No…”

“You have nothing to lose.” Yelena encourages. “Trust me. Just be yourself. Tell her how you feel, and before it’s too late, alright.”

“I'll think about it…" Bob stands up as Alexei's voice rings out from the hall, indicating it was time to head out. With a sigh, Bob steps out of the door frame, ready to face whatever the evening has in store.

Bob had a completely different idea about how the night would go. Surely, there would have been busybodies intrigued by his presence and would approach him. Possibly ask him about his powers, his involvement, and what he brought to the table, but that was not the case as he continued to stand in the corner of the venue. Alone. His hands were messing with his cuff links to help pass the time. He raised his hand occasionally, sparing a timid greeting to the passersby who gave him a side eye. He wasn’t aware how much of a wallflower he was being, but he was nonetheless immune to the judgeful stares. He might've guessed that his longing gaze also made people whisper and gesture towards him. The fact that he was staring in one particular direction caught everyone’s curiosity.

He was looking at you, mingling and laughing with people he didn’t know. He couldn’t stop staring at you since you met the group in the living room. Yelena wasn’t lying when she said you looked gorgeous.

It felt like time itself stopped and nothing else moved, nor mattered, except you. Walker didn’t fight the shit eating grin on his face when he heard Bob’s sharp intake. The kid was so far gone that he had to nudge the man after you had complimented his appearance.

“And here I thought you were reluctant to go out with us. You look good.” Your sweet grin was making him visibly malfunction. You gave a nervous laugh, looking down as the minutes passed without him saying anything. Heat warms your cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?” Your eyes crinkle with embarrassment.

“No, he–“

“–Oh!” Bob stumbles to the right from Walker’s nudge. “T-Thank you! You don’t look nice- No you do! You look nice…I meant to say you look nice. You’re beautiful…You look beautiful!” Bob grows flustered. “T-Thank you.”

“Geezus.” Walker scoffed, walking away from you both.

“You know you can take your eyes off her for a second, right? She’ll still be there, I promise.” Bucky comes up to him from his peripheral vision. Bob’s face flushed with embarrassment, having been caught. He dips his chin before he locks eyes with the soldier. “Here.” He offers a rounded glass—a golden liquid swirling in its confinement.

“Thanks…” He carefully encircles his hand around the glass and takes a sip. A loud cough erupts from his chest, making him lean over. Bucky chuckles briefly before helping him back upright and patting his chest.

“Scotch on the rocks. Thought you could use some liquid courage. Get some hair on your chest.” Bucky pulls away. Bob watches as the man’s eyes avert, inspecting the room. He blended in well, unlike himself. No one looks twice at Bucky. No one suspects him of anything bad.

“F-For what?” Bob cleared his throat, trying to get over the burn.

“You’re gonna ask her to dance.” Bucky declares.

“I’m…I’m what?” Bob whips his head to peer at him. Then, back to you, you hit a man with your hand across his chest, throwing your head back. How could he ask you to dance when you looked to have been having a swell time across the room?

“Gentlemen…What are we talking about over here?” Walker chimes over. A hand in his pocket, a rounded glass tucked into his palm, faced down.

“I told Bob here to go ask Y/n to dance.”

“No wait- I wasn’t-“ He protests.

“Ha– That I want to see. Do you even know how to dance? Can you dance?”

“Well, no… I can do the Charlie Brown in the cha-cha slide though…”

“You don’t say…” Walker closes his mouth. He shakes his head at Bob’s enthusiastic confirmation. “Maybe teach the kid a step…or two.” Walker lifts his drink to his lips. Bucky pats Bob comfortably against his back, his chin face down, embarrassed that he admitted his lack of dance skills. “Before he asks her.”

“I should’ve stayed home…” Bob muttered to himself.

“No you shouldn’t have. You just need a wingman.”

“A wingman?” Bob’s brows crease.

“Yeah, someone who can help you get the girl. That gives you advice on how to look good in front of her.” Bucky's words cause Bob to look down at himself.

“What more could I do to look okay? Y-Yelena already helped me do my hair and tie.”

“This will have nothing to do with your appearance. You already got the face and the build, kid, don’t worry about that. I just meant more of teaching you how to hold yourself confidently and how you speak to a woman.”

“But Yelena told me to just be my-“

“Forget everything Yelena has told you. Let us help you, alright.” Walker butts in. Bob wrings his hands, he wasn’t too sure about the whole ordeal. Yelena told him to take the chance, to tell you how he felt before it was too late, to be himself, because that’s who you were drawn to. Now the guys were telling him he had to work on himself, on their way to giving him tips on how to bring out his confidence, it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know…I wanted to do it on my own terms. N-Not right now…She’s busy.”

“She’s networking.”

“I don’t want to pull her away to tell her how I feel…” The idea felt selfish. He didn’t want to be the one to tamper your fun night.

“Trust me, kid. You’d be doing her a favor. She’s miserable.” Bob turns, inspecting your joyous body language. If your discontent looked like you were happy, then so was he.

“Maybe we should wait-“

“Oh.” Walker draws their attention. Bob turns to him before looking back at you. “Trouble in paradise.” Walker quips, gesturing to the new fellow that caught their attention. Your smile disappears when you turn around to face the hand that tapped your shoulder.

“Who’s that?” Bob glances back at the troubled expression of his teammates. He rocks back and forth on his heels. Nervously waiting to know of the man, who brought you displeasure from what he could tell. He watches you shake your head no, turning and walking away from him and the group you mingled with. An unsettling torment rumbles in his chest, when the guy grabs your upper forearm, halting your retreat.

You quickly turn your head around; a quiet disagreement begins. A few other guests glance over at you both.

"Sadly that is Y/n's former partner. His name is Ryker Stride.” Bucky reveals the information about your ex-boyfriend that you failed to talk about. To him at least.

"I had no idea she was with someone…" Despite the fact that he didn't look like your ex, Bob couldn't help but let his wandering thoughts get the better of him. He felt insignificant compared to how Ryker held himself.

“They weren’t together for long, they hit month six before she ended things with him.”

“Is it ‘cause he’s an asshole?” He didn’t like the way he grabbed you. You pulled your hand back, before you walked away, Turning a corner out of sight.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky sighed. Walker watched the scene unfold, before an idea struck him.

“Go save her.” Walker urges, noticing Ryker following after you.

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter. Go!” Walker nudged him a few steps forward, but Bob only shakes his head.

“I-I don’t think it's a good idea…Walker, Yelena told me to not get into trouble before she left me here. I-“

“Oh my god! It’s not like you’re gonna kill the dude, you're just gonna follow them, make sure she’s okay. And if he so much lays a hand on her, then you slightly intervene, use a bit of that strength of yours to show him you don’t mess around when it comes to her. It’s completely harmless dominance. Show how much of a gentleman you are. Trust me, she’ll be kissing you by midnight, you’ll thank me later. Promise.“ Walker steps up to him, pats him on the chest.

“I don’t know…I think we should get Yelena. Get her opinion on this.” He reels into himself, not believing he could carry it all out. He was a gentleman, he thought so, so did Yelena and you, why would possibly getting a man’s hands off you further highlight the fact he’d never do such a thing as lay a hand on a woman. It felt risky…but was this the risk Yelena encouraged him to take things with you further?

“I think it could work.” Now Bucky, mauled it over.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s risky…” Bob kept insisting.

“No. It’s not. You should go save her.” Walker persisted. “This is your chance and you’re seriously not gonna take it?” He scoffs. “If you’re not gonna do it, then I will. The guy’s a prick anyway.”

Bob couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First, the guys suggested he should ask you to dance, and now they want him to barge in like some knight in shining armor? Did they seriously expect him to just waltz over to you, interrupt your conversation with your ex, and play the hero? But what really caught him off guard was the fact that he actually considered it. Sure, he didn't think much of your ex when he saw his hand on you, but to intervene?

Walker and Bucky continue to implore him, emphasizing the importance of this moment. Telling him to man up. He knew this was the opportunity to act, but as usual, his nerves get a hold of him. With a hesitant look at the super soldiers, he nods once and moves with small steps in the direction he saw you go.

Bob felt nervous when he came to a stop around the corner. Your anger evident with every grit of your teeth. It was daunting to see you so worked up. His brows furrow as he saw Ryker hold you in the exact same position.

You wished you hadn’t walked away from the crowd. Crowds kept you safe, they granted you witnesses if something were to happen to you. Much like so.

"Let go." You grit your teeth at the man preventing your exit.

"Let's talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about. I gave you your answer. I ended things with you for this exact reason. Your aggressive, abusive, and right now a real pain in my ass. If you can't be a grown-up about it, that's a personal issue. Not mine. Let go." Your voice lowers, firm in your conviction.

“No come on, give me a chance to explain myself. I told you I was going to work on myself-”

"Ryker if you don't take your goddamn hand off me so help me-"

Bob was torn from the sidelines. He understood it wasn’t his place to interfere, but his heart began to beat faster as the conversation between you and your ex grew more heated. He clenched and unclenched his hands, taking a few steps towards the altercation. He had to say something, but he also didn’t have a clue how to approach.

"She...She said let her go." A dark, low rumble emits behind you. The rasp in Bob's voice usually sent a tingling sensation down your spine, but upon seeing how intensely he glared at your ex, and the way his shoulders curled in around himself. It did nothing but give you goosebumps. Bob's gaze settled on his hand, the one currently leaving impressions of his fingers on your skin. Your gaze stays on him as you catch a flicker of amber in his eyes. No.

"She said, let go." Bob’s gestures with a pointed finger. A nervous laugh emits past his lips. It does nothing to ease the tension.

Ryker's hold on you tightens at Bob's words. The defiance in the man's demeanor only fueled his determination to maintain his grip. "Mind your business, freak. This doesn't concern you."

Your heart hammers as Bob’s eyes go full gold. “She said let go…”

You turn back to the stubborn fool with cogs and nuts for brains. "Ryker, let go of me now." You push against his hand, which doesn't let up at all. "Terco! Suéltame!" You curse at him. "You have a death wish. Surely, that’s the case!" You feign sudden revelation to his unrelenting grip. You shove against his chest, before looking back at Bob, exclaiming frantically. "Bob, I'm fine. Go find Yelena!"

"He's bruising you..." His gaze was unmoving from Ryker's grip. “He shouldn’t be hurting you.”

Bob steps to move closer, but your desperate attempt to keep him away from the impending situation stops him in place. His gaze flicks rapidly between Ryker’s tight hand on you and the sight of your growing distress.

"Bob, it's fine!" You curse under your breath, as you try to hide the pain you begin feeling, etching your features. "Ryker!" A disheartened chuckle slips past your lips, but it's not joyous. Bob didn't misplace your whine. "You're drunk, go home. You're making things worse-"

Ryker's grip on you persisted, his drunken state only fueling his stubbornness even more so. He ignored your attempt to diffuse the situation; a scoff left him. "The only one making things worse is this pri—" His words were slurred and then interrupted. Bob stuck a hand out before Ryker's grip lifted off of you, and then he flew towards Bob.

Bob didn't hesitate to grip the intoxicated man's neck.

"You were saying?" Bob's raspy growl was not missed.

Ryker croaks, his airway being cut off by Bob's hand around his throat. He tries to form words, but only a strangled gasp leaves him.

"Bob..." You step closer to them. His cerulean eyes meet yours, and a speck of hope fills you, thinking he's not far from being helped. "Bob, can we talk about this?"

His grip doesn't loosen on the guy. Bob's eyes are locked onto yours for a split second before returning to Ryker, the grip on his neck more harsh than what is necessary. His demeanor had changed; his usually soft-spoken words and timidness were gone. He stands straight, shoulders squared. A subtle but commanding aura emanated from him. He was losing an eternal fight that the eye couldn't see, but you saw the signs. His lack of empathy, dissolving, a rugged exterior slamming down like a shutdown protocol. You didn't like the man who wanted to take over.

"Bob?" Your heels click softly with each approaching step. "Listen I know Ryker's a piece of shit okay. It's why I broke up with him..." You put your hands out to show him you mean no harm. "I thought I wanted him gone at one point in my life too, but contemplating about the asshole in such a way didn't feel worth it anymore." Ryker pays you a glare. "Bob, he doesn't deserve one second of your time." Bob clenches his jaw as he peers down at your darkened marks. He twitches as he tries to think through his inner turmoil.

"No, no. He shouldn't have hurt you. He put his hands on you." Bob's voice cracks. "I don't like it when people hurt you..."

"Yeah, well, people do stupid things when they're drunk. He's an idiot." You give Bob a pained smile. "I'm fine. Nothing serious." He still had Ryker in his grip. The man was turning red.

"He-He deserves it." With one final tightening of his grip, Ryker falls limp. You barely register the crack, surely his neck. The sound haunts you as the hairs on your arms rise again.

You watch as Bob releases Ryker. The man flops to the ground, unmoving. Your heart picks up as you realize what he's done. Your eyes go wide before you swallow the lump in your throat. "Bob, you...Did you-"

Bob's gaze was locked on Ryker's unconscious form, and he finally turned to look at you, noticing you had backed up. A flicker of realisation passes across his expression at your reaction and withdrawal. Bob's gaze remains steady, his eyes devoid of the softness you're used to, replaced by something else. Hatred.

"He had it coming." Bob's tone is firm, his voice still hinting at his usual timidness, but tinged with a hardened edge. "He hurt you. What gives him the right to do that to you? To anyone? I did him a favor." He nods more to himself.

"You didn't need to kill him."

Bob's gaze intensifies as he keeps your gaze, the look unyielding. The gold in his eyes is more prominent now. The tension was dense, the moment hanging in the air, thick like fog. "He deserved it." Bob's tone, confident and cold. No remorse. "He hurt you."

"Oh my god…No it wasn’t necessary.." You release a sigh.. "H-He just held my wrist."

Bob's eyes narrow. He scoffs in disbelief. "And you were wincing, were you not?" He steps closer to you, closing the distance. You never liked his gold eyes. Not when he was looming over you.

You hold your head high, trying not to let your gaze waver from his intimidation. "I'm fine. Killing shouldn't have been your first choice. It never should result in death unless the situation requires it. I could have knocked him out, Bob..."

"Maybe you're too kind." The intensity in his gaze was unbroken. "Sometimes, people like him don't understand anything but violence."

"I don't think you do either..." You wished you could have taken it back the second the words fell past your lips. "I didn't mean that-" You close your eyes. Regret hitting you.

Bob recoils at your words, flinching as though you hit him. "I think you did." His gaze sharpens, hurt and confusion flashing across his features.

"No." You insist.

The intensity in his gaze doesn't let up, even as you try to retract your statement. "No. You did mean it." His tone is stern. Grim. It cuts through the air like a knife. "You think I'm as violent as him, is that it?"

You only keep shaking your head, even as he corners you against an adjacent wall. "No. I think-"

The weight of his body is imposing, shadows slowly casting over him starting from his shoes as he corrals you into the wall. His hands find the space beside your head, trapping you in as he leans in close, his voice low and sharp. “Why shouldn't I use my full potential, especially when a damsel is distressed? I'm strong, so why wouldn't I try to help someone in need? Though I'm starting to think this damsel wasn't worth the time or energy anymore. Since she's yet to thank me. I came here to save you from that asshole.”

Your lip trembles as you reach for your gun. You act fast on impulse. Switching the safety off your weapon with precision and speed before a shot rings out. Surely someone's heard it go off.

Bob's reaction was instantaneous as pure adrenaline surged through his veins. He acted on instinct, seizing your wrist in a firm grip. He holds your gun-wielding hand steady. The weapon was aimed at a spot just past his right ear. His voice is eerily calm. “You missed.”

Your outcry was real this time as the gun slipped out of your hand. Out of reach now. Bob held your wrist, much like Ryker had. Only this grip was severely cruel, whereas Ryker's was bruising you, Bob could easily break your wrist with slightly more pressure applied. "Y-You're hurting me-" You shove against his chest. He was unfazed by your attempts.

"And you were going to shoot me....God, why do we even keep you around?" Your eyes widen as the shadows reach up to his torso.

"'Cause I'm one of you..." You arguably strain.

He doesn't allow himself to give in to your words; he doesn't soften or falter. You press the left side of your face into the wall as he sneers and breaths heavily into your cheek. "You sure about that?" His tone was condescending. He pulls you into his chest, dragging you away before you know it.

A yell breaks out when you're thrown across the venue’s dance floor. Your body hits the ground roughly, sending you rolling before you stop face down into the ground. You lay there trying to gather your bearings.

He threw me! Your thoughts alert you.

"T-That hurt..." You mutter to yourself as you take note of the crowd, stepping back and away from the center. Separating a path as Bob, halfway transformed into Void, approaches with steady, slow footsteps.

"Y/n!" Yelena makes for you, but you shake your head.

"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. Your face fell when you noticed them reach for specific spots on their attire. Weapons. Hidden from wandering gazes. Had they anticipated this to happen? "Stay back!" You warn, pushing off the ground with shaken legs. Your chest rises and falls heavily, trying to push through the pain of being thrown like a rag doll.

"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.

Bob's eyes remained fixed. Golden. The shadow within him, consuming his being. His expression was almost feral. He stops in front of you. He had no hesitation and no mercy. No, not for you. No more.

Bob watches you stumble forward with an unsettling lack of regard. Even though he had been rougher with you than he'd like, his demeanor didn't soften. He begins stepping towards you. "You're a drawback." His tone is harsh, lacking the usual warmth he holds towards you.

Your head falls into your shoulder, defeated and solemn, as Bob's demeanor doesn’t change. Black overshadows his delicate features. He is no longer the timid and awkward man you thought you knew. Now, he is Void—a twisted, broken force to be reckoned with. The two white dots for eyes stare back at you hauntingly.

No trace of warmth or familiarity in his eyes. Just a tormenting, head tilt directed at your vulnerable state. "A liability." His head tilts to the other side now.

Yelena steps closer to you. A hand was held out in front of her, ready to shove you behind her. She was all too familiar with the Void's dislike for you. He hadn't been too kind to you in your shame rooms. Giving you hell the most when the group rejoined in the attic. He hated you, hated how you made things quiet for Bob. You provided a sense of comfort and a safeguard for him to fall back on. Void wanted you gone. Now more so than ever.

"Bob?" Yelena gives it a go before she reaches for you.

Instantly, you're yanked by your wrist, slamming into his chest, forcing you to meet his menacing stare. You watch his wickened grin grace you, the white dots for his eyes reflecting the sliver of hope within him. Barely there.

"No!"

"Let her go!"

"Bob, let her go!"

"Bob, if you can hear me. Stop this!"

Multiple safety clicks are echoed all around the room. You turn briefly, locking eyes with Ava, Yelena, and Walker, directing their pistols' ends towards the shadow man. Bucky is on standby with his weapon of choice. You lock eyes with him, shaking your head. Their hesitance to shoot is noticeably painful.

"You can't be trusted." Void continues speaking slowly, calculatingly, each word falling heavy and deliberate, as the shadows consume you from your heels. "You act impulsively based on your emotions. You're a waste of time. You're only making him weaker."

The shadows wrap around your ankles, coiling around them, consuming them in darkness. You feel the shadows creep up your legs, snaking their way up your body, now to the halfway point of your waist. It didn't take a genius to know what was happening. "Then get it over with already..."

He chuckles darkly before you see your friends and various guests begin being turned into shadows. Void's gaze flickers around the room. People start to scream and flee, while others begin to try to fight back. He remains unfazed by the panic as he lifts you to his eye level, the shadows reaching your chest now. "You don't matter...you never will." You release a gasp, your eyes closing as the shadows curl over your head like a hoodie. Then your body's gone from his grasp. No shadow in sight.

Bob sat up, startled. His eyes snapped open, his breathing heavy and ragged as he shook his head and ran frantic fingers through his now messy curls. His heart raced in his chest. "What..." He muttered, trying to shake the remnants of the horrid nightmare from his mind.

"Bob?" He whips his head up fast, causing him a sudden dizzy spell, before he locks eyes with Yelena on the ground. He begins to register not only her disheveled state but also various other bodies, sitting up from the ground as well.

"What the hell..." Ava curses as she goes to stand. Yelena followed suit, as shadows started to disperse from each figure that had stood in the room a while ago.

"What happened here?" Bob, nervous, stood up, trying to find his bearings.

"Great, you don't remember."

Bob's confusion grows as he takes in the sight of everyone around him. He rubs his temples, trying to make sense of what's happening. "I...I don't know..." He shakes his head, feeling dazed and disoriented. "I was... dreaming, I think. It was a nightmare. But, I can't remember much."

"It's fine, Bob." Yelena waves him off.

Bob rubs his hands over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. The group is gathered in the venue, their surroundings in disarray. Chairs toppled, tables were knocked over, and the floor was littered with shattered glass. "What happened here?" He asks again, taking in the state of the room.

"Void." Bucky sighed.

Bob's heart sinks at the mention of Void. He knew all too well the damage and chaos the other guy brought with him. "Void did this?"

"Yeah..." Walker nods. "But from the looks of it, you only maintained it here, so I call progress." Bob was lost.

"I did? I don't remember anything. I only remember seeing Y/n talking to that Ryker guy, before everything got fuzzy again."

The mention of your name had them freezing. Yelena looked to him before her body swirled around in search of you. Yelena's eyes widen with realization.

"Y/n... Where's Y/n?" The room falls silent as they begin to realize the absence of your presence in the venue.

"What's with the long faces?" Bob wrings his hands together, not understanding the concerned glances everyone threw his way. He turns his head like they do, eyes darting around, falling onto multiple strange faces, searching but never really finding what they looked for. "What's wrong?... Where's Y/n?" His body tenses, dread seeping in.

"What do you mean, where is she?" Yelena's heart plunges. "Bob?" She inched closer, trying to get a read on him. "D-Do you remember anything?"

"No, I told you all that I know. I saw Ryker with Y/n before everything got dark." Bob glanced over to Walker and Ava's hardened gazes. He curled in on himself. He didn't need to be a genius to know something was wrong and that he was at fault. "W-What do you mean? Where is she?"

"Alright, kid, quit messing around. Where'd she go? We all came back, so why didn't she?" Walker rolled his eyes, not in the mood for his oblivious antics. "Where is she, Bob?"

"I-I don't know where Y/n is? What did I do?" Bob frantically shrugs his shoulders.

"No." Dread fell over Yelena's face. "No, no, no." Yelena cupped her stomach.

Bob noticed Yelena's expression, confusion etched on his face, "W-What's going on? What did I do?"

The group looked at him in pity, their faces riddled with worry, fear, and confusion—all except Bucky, who remained silent and stoic. Everyone waited for Yelena to speak. Yelena's voice was shaky, her words softly spoken.

"You didn't do anything." Yelena's eyes started to water, her body trembling. "No..." She looked around the room once more. Nothing. "Okay...Okay. How do we get her back?" She highlighted.

"Get her back?" Bob shook his head.

"You're asking us?" Bucky pointed to himself. "How would we know?" He perplexes.

"I...I don't know!" Yelena's breathing grew ragged, on the verge of tears. She blew raspberries. "She can't be gone...we all came back, there's that!"

"Yeah, but she didn't." Walker voiced everyone's dread. His tone grew sharp and impatient. He pointed to Bob, "Why is that Bob? Why didn't she return like the rest of us?"

"Surely there's some reasonable explanation for this-" Ava tried leveling the situation.

Bob's expression turned somber, his eyes darting to each person searching for an answer. He stuttered, "I...I don't know why. I swear, I don't know. I...I'd never ever hurt her, I promise. I'd never hurt her."

Yelena's voice was shaky, her words barely above a whisper. "We know you wouldn't, but she's gone. Maybe still in the Void, and we need to get her back."

"The question is how, though?" Walker queried.

Yelena shrugged, her eyes reddened and puffy. "I got nothing...." Everyone remained quiet.

Bob wrung his hands together before a suggestion conjured up in his mind. "W-What if you knock me out?"

The group froze, all turning to look at him in disbelief.

"What?" Yelena furrowed her brows, confused by his reasoning.

Ava chimes in, disagreeing. "That doesn't even sound plausible."

Walker let out a scoff. "Knock you out? Are you out of your mind? What good would that do for us?"

"We risk the Void escaping again!" Alexei voiced his concern. "It is a no from me!"

"Sorry, it was just an idea. I thought it could work- Sorry." Bob shakes his head, letting his head fall to the ground again. Bucky, the more level-headed of the group, weighs the idea before speaking.

"Bob..." Bucky steps forward, his gaze fixed on the distressed male. "What do you mean by that? Why do you suggest that we knock you out?"

A spark of hope ignites behind his eyes. Someone's taking a chance on his idea. Bob nods before saying, "Maybe if you guys knock me out. I could find her...in here." He peers up through his lashes at the soldier, gesturing to his temple. "It was just an idea..."

Bucky's gaze remains locked on Bob, contemplating his proposal. Yelena moves from her spot, placing her hand on Bucky's arm. "Bucky, you can't be serious."

"You got a better plan… We don't have anything to go from. It's better than nothing. It could work..." Bucky shrugs at Bob, who straightens. Bob stares at Bucky, surprised that he was on board with it. He turned to the others, waiting for their opinions.

"But how can you know for certain... that it will work?" Yelena counters.

"It's a stupid idea," Ava mutters, shaking her head.

"Alright, how hard do I have to hit him?" Walker begins removing his blazer, rolling his white dress shirt up to his elbows.

"Woah woah woah! Let's think this through, there are other ways we can do this!" Yelena cuts in frantically.

"She's right, punching him won't phase him."

"Then how the hell are we supposed to knock him out?" Walker complained.

"You could..." Bob swallowed back a lump. "You could choke me..."

Ava whips her head over to Walker's baffled gaze. She nudges him with a shit eating grin. "Choke him!" She urges.

Bucky places his hands on his hips, and a heavy sigh leaves him. "You sure about this, Bob?"

A mixture of nervousness and determination washes over Bob's face. Bob nods, trying to seem brave. "Yeah...I'm sure. I have to try…For her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, you know?" He lets out a faint laugh, but his smile only lasts a few seconds.

A grimace is on Yelena's face as she watches the scene begin to unfold. Bucky places a firm hand on Bob's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t kill him, Walker. Do it quickly, just enough to make him unconscious. Got it?”

Walker shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He approaches Bob, hesitant about his decision. He grabs Bob’s forearm before making him turn around. His back now faces him. "Sorry in advance, kid..." Walker swallows hard before he wraps his arms around Bob’s shoulders. It's not long before his arms tighten around his neck. Bob protests, raising his hands to where Walker's hold reduces his oxygen. He knew he had to give in, for your sake, but he'd be lying if he said the whole plan was terrifying.

Bob tries to resist even as he meets Yelena's pained expression. Bucky's head turns away so as not to look, but he thinks twice before looking back, to be there as his source of comfort as he starts tapping against Walker’s arms.

"You'll be fine, kid. Just relax, alright? Don’t fight it." Bucky tries to reassure him. Bob feels the pressure build up in his head and lets out a gasp before he nods. His eyes flicker back and forth between gold and blue. His throat feels like it's being crushed, not the most pleasant thing he's experienced, but what's worse is the way Yelena is watching him. Not at all okay with this. She never liked seeing him hurt.

His eyes meet Yelena's, and her eyes are filled with dread. He manages to mouth his words with a weak smile. I’ll. Find. Her.

Bob's eyes start fluttering. His expression starts drooping as he's on the verge of passing out.

The world blurs as he starts to feel the rush; his head starts pounding. Then his surroundings turn dark. The pressure becomes too intense, and he goes limp. His body falls into Walker’s arms. Walker sighs, letting his arms unravel from his neck before he walks backwards, gently laying the man on the floor. He stays crouched next to him, hating this more than anything. “Now what?”

"We wait." Yelena chimes in solemnly. Grabbing a discarded chair, planting it before her unconscious friend, and plopping herself down on it. “And hope this work.”

Bob didn’t know how long he had been roaming through his shame rooms before a particular doorway appeared. The brown door, sticking out like a sore thumb from the white walls of his childhood home, his shame room, where his dad was screaming at him, asking him where he was going. He gave his father one more glance before he rushed towards it. Opening and slamming it shut behind it. But as he put his force behind the shove. The door itself caught on the doorframe. He tried again, but it wouldn’t budge, leaving behind the hope that it would close, but a thin space between the doorframe and the door prevented its enclosure.

“It doesn’t close…The floor is sunken there.” A high-pitched voice raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He pushes himself from the door before he swivels in place. A small child greets him on the floor.

"Y/n?" Bob inched closer to what he presumed to be your younger self. You were donning a pink and purple sweater, a sequined puppy plastered on the front of it. A few sequins turned over like you had run your hand across them. Black leggings worn out and fuzzy purple socks on your feet. A mirror of your adolescence.

Your younger self looks up as he approachs. He met her gaze before she pointed to the other end of the room. “She’s over there.”

He swiveled around, scoping the room's entirety, until his gaze settled on his goal. His search concluded as he saw you curled underneath a desk. His shoulders slumped at the sight. Your face was dazed, staring straight ahead. Eyes barely blinking. You, too, donned the puppy sweater and leggings. Different from your dress, which you looked lovely in tonight.

You hadn't even bothered to acknowledge his presence as your younger self kept trying to build a puzzle laid out before her. An image of a snowman, in a forest surrounded by trees. A few pieces were chipped, and one, unbeknownst to him, was missing, lost, meaning you'd never fully complete it over the years of trying to, in this room.

"Y-Y/n." He reveled in saying your name out loud.

"I don't want to talk to anyone." Bob turned to look back at the child, placing another piece in its correct spot.

Bob crouched down to be eye level with you under the desk. He held his breath, waiting for any sort of reaction. For a flash of recognition, but there was nothing. No response.

"I-I didn't mean for you to be trapped in here." His voice shook.

Bob's expression twisted into one of deep regret. He reached out to touch your knee but stopped himself, his hand hovering a few inches above as it trembled. His gaze flitted to your younger self. She seemed focused on the puzzle piece in her hand, utterly oblivious to his internal torment. The sight only intensified his agony.

"I–" He opened his mouth to reply, perhaps to reassure you, but no words were forthcoming. "C-Can I join you?" Bob fell back on his bottom and gestured gently to the center. Your younger self looked up.

"Sure." She barely peers up at him, unbothered by his request, but holds out a piece to include him all same.

Bob accepts the piece, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he takes it. He turns it over in his grasp, examining the surface of it before looking back at the puzzle. He slides his piece into place, his movements careful but precise, ensuring a perfect fit.

"Thanks." He murmurs, his gaze drifting back to your younger self. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching as if chewing on words he couldn’t quite muster. He lets something out for now. "I've never been good at these..." Bob confesses, "Could never finish them. Sit still."

"It's okay...We've never finished this one, but we keep trying to." The child's disheartened smile makes him want to break down.

Bob nods curtly, his throat tight. The sight of your indifference nearly unravels him. He turns his attention back to the puzzle, trying to ground himself in its simple but comforting task. He picks up another piece, turns it over.

"I’m... I can't-" Bob stops short, clearing his throat as it threatened to close up. He tries again. "I can't believe I did this to you." He whispers, more to himself than anything. "I wish I had more control over my powers. I could have saved you the pain."

"We're not mad at you for it. We promise." Your younger self reassures. Handing him another piece after placing another perfect fit down.

Bob's breath hitches in his chest. Your reassurance is like a balm to his wounded soul. Hearing those simple words from you, from her, eases some of the guilt that has been consuming him. He accepts another piece from you, gently placing it into the puzzle again.

"You… You should be." He mutters, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "I put you in here." His gaze flicks back to her face, taking in her innocence, how calm she remains. It's infuriating. Why are you not raging at him? Shouting? He deserves it.

"The Void put us here." You corrected him. "What's being upset over it gonna accomplish?" Your younger self hovers her hand over a certain area; uncertainty flashes behind her eyes. You're hesitant. Bob, conflicted, reaches forward and guides her small hand over to a spot he thinks it will fit. It does. "Thanks." She’s appreciative before enthusiastically grabbing another, ready to advance in the puzzle's completion.

Bob's heart clenches as you respond rationally. It's eerily shocking how mature you are for your age. The way you forgive so easily is at odds with the guilt he feels. Yet, somehow, your words have an undeniable power over him. He can feel the grip of the Void's hold on him loosen ever so slightly. He helps you slide in the next piece as it clicks into place. Your giggle warms his heart. The corners of his lips curl up at the sound.

"How can…. How can you be so calm about this?" Bob can't help but ask, his voice tinged with disbelief mixed with awe.

"I-I have to..." Your younger self falters. Her composure glitched before she blinked and continued as if nothing had happened. She avoided his gaze, looking back down at the puzzle. "We have to be. Otherwise, what comes next would be unbearable."

Bob's brow creases with concern at the glitch. A ripple in your memory, the imposed calmness that he couldn't miss, faltering. The way you had been referring to yourselves as we, never as I. He was getting somewhere. At least he hoped he was.

"What…" He hesitates, but curiosity gets the better of him. "What's coming next?"

"Ya estoy harta!" Your younger self flinches as a glass breaks in the distance. "Vete con tus pinche putas! Ya no me importa! Largarte! Largarte!"

"Ya no puedo! Ya basta. Pinche loca ya no puedo!"

Bob immediately tenses, ready to protect you and your younger self from whatever threat looms, but as the shouting continues in the distance, he recognises something familiar in the language. Spanish.

"Is... Is that...?" He whispers, knowing the answer but hoping he's wrong.

"S-Spanish." Your body convulses and twitches as the vulgar language is spoken. Feeling gross. You try to block them out, pausing your puzzle making, your hands harshly slammed against your ears. Tears form in your eyes as the screams only continue. You run over to the door, banging and kicking it. The kick makes the door widen, before you push against it.

"Shut up!" Bob flinches as your small body screeches. "Shut up! Ya cállate!" Your outcry only intensified. Your body shaking with sobs. "Shut up! Shut up!" You turn the lock, knowing it serves no real purpose. Your bedroom door barely closed. The doorframe stopped it from entirely shutting. You've never been able to lock it, not once. You turned and walked over to a corner where a dresser sat. You go to push it until it starts sliding across the floor. Pushing with everything you had in your tiny body, until it sat in front of the door. Blocking them from entering. You didn't want them near you. You kick the wall next to it in anger. To have them hear just how upset they made you. Hoping your meltdown would cause them to stop, to see how much they’re hurting you. You go far as to grab something heavy launching it into the wall too. The bang as agressive as your parents anger.

It's not long before you move to where you remain under the desk. Your younger self crawls underneath with you. Scooting herself next to you as your older self ticks and shivers at the language exchanged. Your younger self cups her ears and lets out an ear-piercing scream. All the while, yourself sheds a tear. It's only then that he finally gets a real reaction from you. You turn to your younger self wanting to save her the pain. You wrap an arm around her and tuck her in close to your side.

Bob is frozen in place as the scene unfolds before him. The sheer desperation in your voice is gut-wrenching; you just want it to stop. He watches with staggered breaths as your younger self curls into you. The shouting and screaming continue in the background.

He wants to move, to grab the dresser and shove it through the wall, to put an end to the shouting and the pain taking place on the other side of that door. But he remains where he is, watching yourself try to help your younger self find solace. His eyes dart to the blocked door, listening to the muffled yelling from outside. He grits his teeth, anger bubbling within him.

When he turns back to look at you both. Your younger self is nowhere to be found beside you. "Here!" His head turns to the child sitting before him again on the floor. Another puzzle piece was offered to him once again.

How long did you relive this before he got here? The memory had reset again, he realized.

Bob's hands tremble as he gradually accepts the puzzle piece. Peering down at the upright face, snow-like texture painted on the piece to help him determine where it could go. He stares at it, guilt slowly seeping into his bones as he lifts his head to watch your younger self concentrate on the image the pieces were curating.

"How...How many times has she-you-" Bob can't even fathom how long you've been sitting under your desk, to appear so numb to everything. "How long have you been in here?"

"This is loop ten." Younger you, spares him a pinched grin. It doesn't reach her eyes.

Bob's stomach churns at the revelation. Loop ten? You've had to face this same scene ten times over, stuck in an endless cycle. He wants to scream, to tear everything apart, to make it stop. But he can't. He's just a participant in this twisted nightmare. His eyes shift between the puzzle and your younger self, his guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. He had to try; this was you he was talking about. You'd done so much for him; he owed you that much. To push past how scared he was of screwing things up even more.

Your younger self looks up, halting her movements. "I-I can't finish it." You finally refer to yourself in first person. You look down at the puzzle. "I just wanna finish it."

"You want to finish the puzzle?" Bob questions, his words tinged with both confusion and understanding. He glances at the puzzle, taking in the incomplete image. It's beautiful in its own way, even without all the pieces. But the thought of you stuck in this repetitive loop, trying to complete it, it's unbearable. "You... You don't have to finish it." He says softly, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he can even change your mind within the confines of this memory.

"I want to." Hope. A small spark ignites within Bob as your younger self expresses her determination. He picks up on the subtle changes in your expressions, the way your younger self glitches and gives way to glimpses of your older self. He clings onto this as a sign of change, that he can somehow alter this loop.

His back straightens. He looks back at you under the desk. You were still there, but a sliver of hope had him realizing you wanted to crawl from underneath there. "I... I get close, and then I never do. There's always a piece missing." The child's brows furrow with frustration. You go to place the remaining six pieces before pulling your hands into your lap.

"Missing piece?" His eyes flick back to the puzzle, taking in the image, searching for what could be amiss. Then there it is, the center spot, vacant. His gaze darts around the room. "Maybe it's somewhere else? In a drawer? Or under the bed?" He muses, his mind racing with possibilities, until the screams of your parents have him glancing at the door. He glances down at you, then at you under the desk.

"Hey!" You peer up at him. "Just... Just focus on me. Listen to my voice…not theirs. Okay?" With labored breaths, his grin grows as he tries to reassure you from the shouting behind the door. "Where would you look first?" Your younger self gets up and heads for the door, when suddenly you appear criss-crossed before him. His eyes widened, trying to gain your attention this time. "Y/n? Hey!" He exclaims, reaching forward, touching your shoulders. "Hey. Hi, oh my god hi!" You turn back to face him after having peered over at the door.

"B-Bob?" Your voice croaks.

"Yes!" Bob lets out a sigh of relief. He can't help the small laugh that escapes his lips. "Yes, it's me. Me Bob. That's me!" He gives a firm nod, still holding onto your shoulders. He leans down to meet your gaze. "I'm so sorry. The team told me what happened and how Void got out and ruined everything. How everyone came back, but you never did. I... I should've stayed home. I knew it was a bad idea to go to that gala, but the team insisted, you insisted, on getting me out of the tower, and...I screwed everything up again. Like I always do. But I'm here. I'm here and I want to make things right. I'm gonna get you out of here." His conviction bled through.

Your eyes glisten. You looked so small compared to the confidence you carried around him and the others earlier in the evening. You flinch, glancing over your shoulder as another vulgar word reaches your ears. "D-Don't listen to them." Bob turns your chin back over to him.

Bob forces a pinched smile as your attention returns to him. He squeezes your shoulders, his fingers gently kneading into your flesh, trying to ground you. "You want to finish this puzzle…We'll finish it." He says firmly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You muster a nod before looking at the blank spot, mocking you from its completion. Bob pulls back. Your younger self begins screaming and pushing the dresser towards the door. Your eyes close as a tick rakes through you. Bob takes note of your reaction, how the side of your ear hit your shoulder blade. Your younger self finishes under the desk, before she appears beside you and Bob. The puzzle resets back to its previous state of incompleteness once again.

Loop eleven.

He shifts his eyes down to your hands, something you twirled around mindlessly, catching his attention. His brows furrow as he reels in the object you acquired, the thing you fiddle with, it was the piece you needed to finish the puzzle.

You had it this whole time. His eyes soften.

"It seems almost selfish..." You concur.

His mouth parts as the realization dawns on him. "You..." Bob whispers, his words lost in awe. "You had it this whole time?" His gaze switches from the piece in your hand back to your face.

Your younger self's determination and stubbornness faded, replaced by the realization that you were holding onto the very thing you sought all along. He's struck by the simplicity yet irony of it all. You were so close to finishing the puzzle, but blinded by what was literally in your hands to do it. He shifts and turns to your younger self, peering up at you, expression expectant, waiting, filled with melancholy. She goes back to adding the six final pieces again.

"This stupid piece…That I could never find. I threw the puzzle away when I couldn’t finish it. It’s so stupid…"

Bob looks at the puzzle piece, a mix of emotions roiling within him. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing how long you'd been trapped here, the endless loop of trying to finish the puzzle without realizing you possessed the very thing needed to complete it. Your younger sits back, wringing her hands together, a mirror of his timidness. It brought him a sense familiarity, something he weighed on now, that you both had something in common. He reaches out, gingerly taking your younger self's hand, before looking back at you.

"It's not stupid." He reassures you. "Sometimes… we search for things so hard we forget to look in simple places." He pauses, his gaze lingering.

Your inner turmoil was evident. You dig a hand into a side pocket of your sweater, he hadn't known was there. "It was in my pocket..." You scoff. Shaking your head. "This whole time!"

Bob watches you, the realization settling in for both your younger and older selves. Younger you then mirrors your actions, stuffing her hand in the pockets, only to pull them out and be left empty handed. It was a poignant moment. "You-" Bob can't even finish the sentence, words momentarily lost on him. It was so simple.

Bob couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, a bittersweet sound. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. You had been carrying the solution to your problem all along, hidden in your pocket. He shook his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and amazement. "I-I once lost my phone…It was in my hand the entire time." A lopsided grin took over his features. ”Though I’m pretty sure it was the meth that hindered my senses from realizing it was there the whole time...” He trails off, noting that his attempt to offer a similar experience did nothing to comfort you.

"It’s not the same…" You shake your head.

Bob breathes a faint laugh at your pouting, the sound of it reverberating across the room, a stark contrast to the ongoing shouting and aggression outside the room. "I think...I think you'll be okay." He chides gently, trying to bring light to the situation.

“How do you know that?”

“‘Cause you guys helped me…Help me still.” He corrects

Your hesitance was not lost on him. You peer up through your eyelashes, then back down to the piece. "What if this doesn't fix anything?"

Bob pauses as he takes in your question. The weight of it hangs in the air, his earlier optimism faltering for a moment. Hearing your apprehension only solidified the concern. Bob's smile fades into a serious expression. He takes in your younger self’s small form, then to you, the way your shoulders are slumped, and the anxiety settled in your eyes. "I don't know if it will." He admits earnestly, his voice soft. "I just...I just really, really hope it does. It has to."

"Is this all it takes…To just fix it?" You twirl the piece around mindlessly. "This single piece my ticket to getting out of here?"

Bob looks at you, really looks at you. The piece of paper board between your fingers spinning in a rhythmic motion, your eyes filled with a mix of peace and anguish. He sees the way your breathing picks up and the way your eyes dart around the room. He can see how much this effects you, the battle between your logical side and the part of you that's been trapped here for who knows how long, trying to meet in the middle. Conclude a final resolution.

"I...I don't know." He replies eventually. He tries. "I...I mean, you all saved me with a hug." He laughs, its nervous but light, then lets it die out. Bob wants to reassure you, to tell you that this piece will fix everything, but he can't because he's never been great at it. You were the one always putting him back together. You always had the right thing to say and knew when to apply it in your heart to hearts. "So what's to say you can't be fixed by a puzzle piece?"

"Just like that?"

Bob nodded. "Just like that." He affirmed. He knows the simplicity of it, the absurdity, the notion of such a simple thing being the key to your liberation, could probably be seen as laughable. But he didn't see it as such, it might’ve been laughable—yes, but it wasn’t to him. Hope flared in him, a spark of optimism that the solution was so simple, so ridiculously easy. "Yeah…just like that." He repeated, his voice resolute, putting your worries and fears to rest.

"Just like that..." You shed a tear, echoing his words. You take a deep breath, hearing your parents argue once more before you reach forward and place the piece in the center. Your body convulses as you begin to sob hysterically, your younger self sighing as you finish it for once. Bob's lip trembles as he pulls you into his chest.

He holds you tightly, your body trembling against his. His grip is firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that he's there. His heart aches as he listens to your sobs. The sobs wrack your frame as your emotions come out, a tidal wave of relief and frustration breaking through the surface after what feels like a lifetime. He rubs small circles on your back, whispering soothing words into your hair, as his own eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"I’m sorry I put you in here. I’m sorry." He whispers into your hair. "It's okay. I've got you. I-I got you."

“Guys.” Walker alerted the team as a shadow appeared beside Bob’s body—a dark silhouette, mirroring your form.

The team looked over, frozen at the shadow's sudden appearance. Bucky took a cautious step forward, and Yelena rose from her chair.

It felt like you had woken up from a deep slumber when you came to. Everyone watched as your tar-like self was slowly revealing itself, like a sheet unveiling you. The shadows released you, shedding away from your form down to your heels. A sigh escaped from you as you pushed against the floor. Your dress draped around you like a blanket as you peered up at your team and the guest who lay witness. You hear a grunt to your right, you turn and watch Bob come to as well. His eyes were trying to settle amongst the warm lighting surrounding the gala. His suit was wrinkled and left in disarray as he sat up. Yelena's heels clicked closer as she reached down to help you stand. "Oh my god!" She pulled you in closer for a hug. You were still finding your bearings. "Thank god. I thought we lost you!" You peer over to see Bob take Bucky's arms appreciatively.

Bucky pulls Bob to his feet, and a sigh of relief leaves him as he sees him finally become aware of his surroundings. He pats Bob on the back a few times, his grip on his palm tight.

"I knew you could do it, buddy." Bucky greets him with a small smile, his expression slightly worried as he observes his disheveled appearance.

"Thank you?" Bob blinks a couple of times, a forced smile on his face, before it fades. "Do what exactly?"

"You don't remember-" Bucky confirms. "You brought Y/n back from the-" Bucky's words were interrupted by the touch of Alexei's grasp on his upper arm and the sound of Walker's words.

"Bucky...Let's debrief him later. Not right now." He suggested. "She's back and safe. We'll deal with it at home. Not here."

"Is everything okay?" Bob's gaze flickers over to see you surrounded by Yelena and Ava. They were checking you over, making sure everything was okay.

Were you hurt?

He looks back at Bucky, his expression hardening. "I brought Y/n back from what?"

"Not here, kid." Walker reached forward to pat his shoulder. "You did great, that's all that matters-" Walker inhales deeply as Bob's hand tightened around his wrist.

"Don't- Don't call me kid." Bob closes his eyes, his irritation getting the better of him as his eyes glow amber for a split second. He gestures a pointed finger at Walker. "From what?"

Alexei steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Bob’s tense shoulders. "Easy there." He cautiously speaks. "Everything is fine now."

Bob's face remains stern, his gaze steady, irritation clear in his expression. "Tell me."

Walker and Bucky exchanged a worried look, both of them noticing the change in Bob's demeanor. "Not now," Walker repeated, his voice firmer this time, his grip on Bob's hand that held his wrist, not letting up either. Bob sensed the clear indication that Walker wasn't going to elaborate, not in the middle of this venue. The commotion from earlier was probable cause for them to high-tail it out of there. Bob’s stubbornness didn’t help their favor.

Bucky leaned in, his tone low, hoping to diffuse the situation. He closed his eyes before giving in. "Look, Void got loose, okay? Something happened. Everyone came back, Y/n didn't." Bob's grip falters, his eyes softening at the information. "Later, okay? We'll explain everything later. But we should probably leave, head home."

"What do you mean she didn't come back?" Bob's confusion only grows. His eyes shifted over to where you were reassuring people that you were fine, who asked if you needed a doctor.

"No, no. I'm okay. Really." He heard your voice bellow out from the short distance between you.

Bob couldn't help but watch as you shook your head, waving off any worried busybodies, and he found himself torn. Part of him wanted to let it go, to leave it be as Bucky and the others insisted. But there was another part of him that yearned to understand. He couldn't leave without answers. He pushed against Bucky's arm, which was trying to ground him.

"Yelena-Yelena!" He called out to her. She waved off another guest, who couldn't mind their business.

“Yes, yes, fine. All is good and well now.”

"Oh my god, what a mess! Is she okay?" Valentina's voice became apparent. Where did she come from? "Y/n, dear, the second you don't feel like yourself, say when. I got medical on call, alright."

"Oh no, I'm fine. I don't need a medic to come-"

"Oh my god, Valentina. She's fine. I promise. Don't intervene." She grew annoyed with Valentina's facade of sudden concern. She wasn't worried about your well-being, just worried about maintaining your image in the public's eye. Valentina continued with her rambling about how much she cared and would prefer it if you were checked over. "Oh my god, we don't need a medic here, ТЫ УПРЯМЫЙ МУЛ!" Yelena cursed. Who knows how Valentina would settle this mess with the press? She double-takes at the sound of her name being called before her attention settles on Bob's concerned one.

"Is she okay?" He mouths.

"She's fine," She waves him off. "Promise." She then nods before rolling her eyes as Valentina rants about having let him out of the house. He reciprocates her nod before his shoulders relax briefly at her assurance, his worry slightly lessened. But something still gnawes at him. His gaze drifts over to you again, his expression turning solemn as he sees the fake smiles and the feigned concern that some are displaying. You didn’t need their fake niceties.

His gaze lingers on you, trying to garner any sign that you weren't fine, but it wasn’t long before you locked eyes.

You catch his gaze, then begin excusing yourself from the small crowd, as a sense of anxiety overcomes you.

"Excuse me-" You politely muttered as you made your way toward him. It was as if a gravitational pull was urging you to him. The room, the people, everything else faded into the background as your focus solely centered on him.

Bob straightens at your approach, taken aback as you nestle yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him.

Startled, he initially freezes for a few seconds before his body relaxes, molding into you. His arms naturally encircle your form, pulling you into a tight embrace, his chin perched on top of your head. Your scent and warmth enveloped him, a sense of comfort washing over him. You felt like home.

"Hi…" Bob's voice, a soft whisper, reached your ears as he greeted you. You feel his hands mold more firmly around your waist, a gesture that makes your heart skip.

"Hi..." You return the greeting, your own voice just as soft, finding solace in the familiar sound of his breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." His response short. “Are you okay?" He emphasizes, a hand gently stroking your exposed back.

"I'm fine." You wave it off.

Bob's eyebrow raises, his expression doubtful as he peers down at you. "You sure...?" He questions further, knowing you're prone to downplaying. But so was he.

“Yes and no.” A nervous laugh resounded from you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He offers, even though he’s not sure what he’s saving you from. He’s caught glimpses of your past before, not that you’d ever truly forego the idea of talking to him about it. He was much alike you in the manner of only giving surface levels of his ugly past. You both only knew what you allowed to be seen.

“You did. You helped me.” Your words, their simplicity, but all the more effective, affectionate, sure. He helped you? How could he have helped you, but have no recollection of it? You smile sweetly as you reach to place a kiss on his cheek. Was this your thankfulness wrapped up in an act of endearment? “You might not remember it, but you were enough, and you were there." You nod suringly.

He looks at the way you're molded against his chest. How his hands fit and embrace your figure like he's ready to protect and shield you from harm's way. The way your softened eyes perceive him in this lightheartedness. Like he's somehow hung the stars in your night sky. He can't help but wonder what he's done. What he's done to be truly worth being perceived delicately. You look like you're scared he'll disappear right before your eyes, when he's the scared one, thinking you'll break under his touch.

"Bucky’s saying Void got out again..." He looks down between your bodies. "I should have stayed home- I made everything worse-"

"You did nothing wrong, okay." You reach up, cupping his face gently, lifting his chin so he'd meet your gaze. "You did nothing wrong." You insist. He places his palms over your hands. Leaning into the warmth your touch brings him.

“I remember him..." He nods at his sudden recollection. It comes to him in bits and pieces. "Ryker." His hands slide up your wrist to the purple indentations marring your wrist, contrasting your skin's original shade. He opens his eyes, hoping he's wrong when he peers at the discoloration. But your hurt wrist only brings forth the truth. Telling him everything he didn’t want to be true. He feels guilty for even letting the asshole execute the action, he tries to conjure up ways he can make the injury vanish. Would a kiss heal your wounds? Take away his mistakes? He opted not to, but he was tempted to do so. "He bruised you." He nods, firm and sure.

"Bruises fade, Bob." There you go again, downplaying someone's unforgiving behavior.

"A bruise might...The memories won't." You shake your head at his trepidation. "Why didn't you fight him? You...You're capable of defending yourself?" Bob looks into your eyes.

"I didn't want to escalate the situation..." You shrug dismissively..

"But he hurt you? He hurt you, and I couldn't stop him in time, I-" He pauses, when it hits him like a tidal wave. The way various shouts echo through his head. Your voice bellowing in anguish. A flash of your face painted with pain.

You had been thrown across the center of the venue's dance floor. You rolled and then landed awkwardly on your stomach. Your once neat hairdo was disheveled in your sudden state. You pushed up with your heels and palms.

"Y/n!" Yelena made for you, but you shook your head.

"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. "Stay back!" You warned.

"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.

"I hurt you..." Bob's eyes widen in fear. He tries to pull your hands away from his face. It was as though he were the Flint Striker and you were the one caught on fire. He was burning you. "No, no, no..." His eyes close as he gently grips your palms and lowers them to your waist. You didn't want to let him go. "I make everything worse. I should have stayed home- I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Bob." You begin your reasoning. “No, I’m fine. You saved me! You got me out of there, everything’s better now.” You reach for him when he flinches. He hates how your face falls, even more so, when he denies you proximity.

“I-I should’ve stayed home.” He accepts before making his way back to Bucky, asking if they could leave.

“B-Bob!” You call after him, your dam cracking, hearing faint clicks approach your form from behind, you look up.

“Come on. Let’s get you both home before Valentina makes an ever bigger show.”

Yelena.

You peer at her, eyes glistening. She tilts her head, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Come on.” She wraps a blazer around your shoulders. One that smelled oddly like the shaggy-haired man. You were dreading the car ride home, that much certain.

“So you instigated him?” The drive back to the watch tower was nothing short of an unbearable experience. Your scowl and crossed arms giving way to how pissed off you were. Bucky and Walker avoided your harsh, directed stare. Bob had sat to your side, curling in on himself as the tension only intensified. His hands were warm, a mock of how close your skin was to touching, but he’d more than likely pull away.

Dreadful.

Now you all had made it out of the elevator with the team hot on your trail. Your heels clicked heavily against the floors. Bob stood off to the side slowly discarding the tie Yelena had done for him. He looked down at the fabric. Messing with it idly to distract himself from the fight he knew would break out. His shoulders reflected that of a small child anticipating his parent’s anger, slumped over on his tall frame.

“I wouldn’t say that? It was more of a friendly bit of teasing. All we did was give him the nudge he needed to confess the undying love he has for you.” Walker sighed as he went over to the bar. “We saw how pissed Ryker was making you…told the kid to go save you or to stop bitching about how much he wants to be with you.”

Asshole.

“So you hazed him and made Void come out.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Walker trails off.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Look, we didn’t mean for it to happen-“

“Didn’t mean-“ You laugh incredulously. “Spare me, Walker. No one can function properly, when you’re down everyone’s throat with childish antics. What were you even thinking?”

“Y/n, you don’t need to stick up for me-” Bob tried to create space between you and the Soldier.

“He wasn’t.” Bucky stepped in. Running a hand down his face tiredly. “We thought it’d be harmless, Y/n. Why would we ever intentionally put him through that sort of thing?”

“I told you we were gonna get him out of the house so he good have a fun night. Did I not tell you I wanted no weapons for tonight? To not wound him up to the point of his other self being unleashed. I was gonna come back after I handled Ryker. I had it handled.” You sneer at the man. Tears forming in your eyes, shaking your head at his ignorance.

A scoff to your left makes everyone’s head turn. Bob fiddles with his tie, his head shaking, a half smile settled over his face. “He bruised you…that’s not handling it.”

“Bob-“ You sigh.

“It…It wasn’t their fault, Y/n. If anyone’s to blame, blame it on me. I went after you…”

“No-“ You protest.

“Bucky and Walker only brought the idea up to me...It was my choice alone. I made the decision…to check on you. But now…I-I should have stayed home-“ Bob shakes his head. “Valentina was right…I shouldn’t have been let out.”

“Valentina can dig her grave and lie in it. I’m tired of her trying to keep you locked up here. You’re allowed to go outside when you feel like it! You’re not under house arrest, she can’t confine you to this place-”

“I just make everything worse.” Bob's brows pinch together. You cup your stomach as tears begin to spill down your face.

“No. You don’t. Don’t think like that. You don’t, I promise.” Your protest further escalated his self-loathing.

“Void took hold of you from what everyone is saying, and for whatever reason, felt the need to keep you from getting back to us. He hurt you, I hurt you.“

“But that’s not on you! That wasn’t your fault! It was mine. For thinking I could somehow bring you back down from in there.” Your eyes meet his temple. “I made things worse. I mean—I shot a bullet at you! I could have knocked him on his ass, but I didn’t and it wasn’t the right call for me to make.” You argue.

“We’re one whole. How is it not my fault?” His shoulders slumped, looking at the team’s conflicted expressions. “Am I wrong?” He breathes a laugh out. “Nothing ever turns out great when I’m around.” He slowly retreats towards the stairs. “I told you guys I should’ve stayed home...”

“Bob please…” You call after him.

“Let him go.” Bucky orders. You turn back to look at your teammates.

“D-Did I just ruin this things between us?” You let your arms flop down to your sides.

“No…it’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault at all.” Bucky reassures you. He walks over to you and squeezes your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you knock him on his ass?” Walker questions.

“I was going to,” You snapped back at him. “-but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don't know...It felt like I was back there again, enduring his abuse when he grabbed me...I guess I froze." You shrug nonchalantly. "Then Bob showed up...and I couldn't think straight. Couldn't think of a way not to escalate things further, but I only made it worse, and it cost Ryker his life in the end...Cost Bob a fun night."

"He killed him?" Walker closes his eyes; your turmoil didn't do anything to hide it. He didn't miss the coms from the authorities either, claiming one casualty earlier on their way out of the venue.

You looked at the floor. "He did...and he doesn't need that put on him. So don't fucking tell him." You warn.

"I think Bob should decide that for himself, no?" Bucky raised a brow at you. "What happened to letting him make his own choices from now on?"

“Well, he wanted to stay home, but we all kept insisting he go out with us. So I don’t know anymore! And I'm not deciding for him..." Your hands were balled into a tight fist. "He should decide, yes, but when he's ready. He doesn't need to know about it right now...It just happened and a part of me isn’t too upset with him about it, but he's in such a vulnerable state right now...I feel like it’ll only do more harm than good...It'll be another thing for him to hate himself over...He doesn’t need that right now.” You say softly. “You guys should have seen him when we were in the void…He’s so capable and we take his gifts for granted.”

“We never thought he was incapable, it's why we agreed to allow him to make his own choices, decide what he eats for dinner, allow him to find his own hobbies. Tonight was just a one-time incident where we peer pressured him into leaving his room, when he didn't want to."

“Well, that peer pressure backfired, didn’t it?” You said under your breath. You run a hand down your face in frustration. “God, he didn’t even want to leave his room...Did you see how uncomfortable he was at dinner? You said it yourself, we coerced him. And I’ve never seen him more upset about it...” You turn your head, peering at the staircase. "Was it stupid of me to think we could show him a fun night out?"

"No. We all wanted the same for him." Yelena shakes her head. "It's not stupid."

"Then why does it feel like it is? He's probably up in his room beating himself up for even stepping outside."

"'Cause you love him..." Yelena gave you a pinched tired grin.

You look away from her. Your shoulders slumped as your eyes burned with unshed tears. It was quiet. No one was sure of what to say. You closed your eyes as that familiar pain in your chest returned. "I do. I love him..." Your voice broke. "But this isn't about how I feel. It's about him." You shake your head. "He was just starting to feel a little more secure with himself in public...He's gonna hate himself for thinking he ruined everyone's night. I could see it in his eyes...The last thing he needs is to feel guilty over something he has no control over." You continue.

"It's not fair to him...He's had it rough for so long, and every time there's progress, something bad happens that takes him thirty steps back." You let out a small scoff. "Maybe I never should have brought up the idea of a night out in the first place...How can he forgive me after a night like tonight?"

"'Cause he loves you too." Yelena tilts her head at your self-deprecation.

You look at her. Your body stiffens, and your chest tightens as you let her words sink in. "But what good is it to love me if it only brings him pain? How long before that love fades to nothing because of my negligence?"

Yelena shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. "You can't doubt yourself, or his feelings for you. I know it's difficult, but the last thing you need to do is start putting yourself down and feeling sorry about tonight." She squeezes your hands.

Bucky stood next to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he nodded in agreement. "You know that you mean a lot to him right?"

“And he only agreed to go out because you wanted him there with us.” Yelena admits.

“Also, we might’ve encouraged him to confess his feelings for you, but he wanted to do it at his own time…I should have stopped then and there, kid. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s admission only added to the weight that sat heavy in your chest. You look over at him and nod slowly, unable to form words.

Yelena gently rubbed you on the back. “You know he can’t stay inside that room forever. You both need each other." Yelena chimed in. “Plus he can’t go a day without his cereal so there’s that…”

"He'll come to his senses..." Walker gives you a faint grin. “He’d be stupid not to.”

“T-Thanks guys…” You step back from Yelena’s hands. “I’m gonna be outside if you need me…gonna clear my head.”

“Want some company?” Ava offers surprisingly.

“N-No I’m okay.” You brush her off before you head out to the roof.

“Take the time you need, little one.” Alexei chimes after you. You raises a thumb in the air in your exit.

When you're out of sight, Walker asks. "What time is it?"

Bucky checks his watch. "Just a quarter till midnight. Why?"

At the realization, Walker takes off towards the staircase. "Walker, what are you doing?" Yelena called after him.

"Keeping my promise!" He called from over his shoulder. “You'll see!” Bucky, Yelena, Ava shared a look as he ran up the stairs and disappeared.

"What the hell is that about?" Yelena gapes before shaking her head. “Whatever, I’m going to bed. Someone make sure Y/n doesn’t jump off the roof.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that…” Bucky shakes his head.

You hadn't fully registered how the cold breeze stung you until you felt a jacket fall over your shoulders. You had been so caught by New York's optics that you missed the metal door creak open. You jump at the sudden contact, thinking you'd see someone beside you, but you had to turn further around to see the man of the hour, who had been running through your mind, stood at the door. You take note of the hand he lowers back down to his side. Putting two and two together about how the jacket made it to you. He made it float. "Bob..."

“Walker said you might be cold…” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Right…I-I was...thank you." You turn your head, nuzzle your nose into the fabric as you insert your arms through the arm holes.

He nods his head. “Welcome…” His chest feels tight watching you snuggle into his jacket. His gaze settled down in front of him. Neither of you say anything. The sounds of New York City echo throughout the night air. Car engines, taxi cabs, faint horns in the distance. Time did seem to stop up here, whereas life continued down on the streets. It was oddly comforting. "C-Could I join you?"

You look back at him, surprised by his suddenness. "Yeah...Yeah of course."

He nods then takes the spot next to you; awkwardly fidgets with his fingers in his lap. He turns his head, looking at you in his jacket. It was a sight for sure...He tried to ignore the way his heart palpitated in his chest.

He tries to focus on the sound of the wind and the city in the distance. But his eyes linger on you, taking in your form. How the evening sky envelopes you in its darkness, distant lights from neighboring buildings causing a warm hue to make your face visible to him, the way the wind nipped at your nose, and your sniffles took over you...He couldn't deny it...You looked beautiful, so carefree.

You turn at the right time and catch him gazing at you. Your eyes crinkle with a hint of heat that rushes up to warm your cheeks. You both emit a nervous laugh, settling your eyes onto your laps. His hands wring together, yours fiddling with the jacket's sleeves.

The silence continued, but this time, there was an obvious tension in the air. The both of you were hyper-aware of it. His eyes continued to dart between you and the city lights. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything..."

His heart stutters in his chest. He takes a shaky breath, his nervousness building. He looks back at you. You look at him reassuringly, like you genuinely meant that one word...Anything.

It makes it difficult for him to get the next words out. "...It’s a stupid question." He rubs the back of his neck.

“That’s okay.”

"I-I just-" He sighs, his jaw clenching as he looks out at the city again. "This might sound weird...But do you know how to tie a tie?" He swallows down any anxiety, forcing his gaze back on you.

“Oh.” Your eyes widen at the peculiar question. “Do I know how to tie a tie?” You ask again to ensure you heard him right. Bob nods yes.

“Sorry...I warned you it was a stupid question. Just...Forget I asked, okay?" He rubs the back of his neck again, looking away.

"No, No...It's okay. If you really want to know. I do."

His eyes flicker with curiosity, meeting your gaze. "You...You do?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but there was an underlying hint of something in his eyes. "Oh, I was just...I was just curious, that's all...I can’t put one on myself...Yelena did it for me, but I…" He trails off, looking back at the city. "I just thought maybe...You could-" His words die in his throat, cutting himself off before he lets any more words slip. He shakes his head, his hands continuing to fidget in his lap.

You register the implication. "Teach you?" You try.

His breath hitches in his throat as you finish his sentence. He looks back at you, his eyes a mix of vulnerability and relief. He could sense the anticipation in your gaze, waiting for him to respond. "Y-Yeah...Teach me." He finally manages to rasp out. "So Yelena won't have to anymore..."

"Yeah, I can. Tell me when okay." You grip his hand. He nods.

"O-Okay..." He looks down at his lap. Your touch is soft and warm. He can't help letting the guilt eat at him. You were being so gentle with him when he was anything but. "I'm sorry I hurt you..."

"Don't-” You shake your head. “Don't do that. Don't apologize." You squeeze his hand gently. "It wasn't your fault...You weren't in control."

"But that doesn't change the fact that my other half hurt you!" He snaps back, his grip on your hand momentarily tightening. You both look down at his hold, his shoulders lose their tension before he's holding you like you're made out of porcelain.

"Look at me, please." You request softly. He raises his head, trying to avoid eye contact. His chest tightens, knowing he can’t hold your gaze for too long. "It wasn't you."

His jaw clenches, his eyes stinging. "I should've stayed here...Then I wouldn't have ruined the night." His breath shakes, the words leaving him in a broken whisper. His eyes meet yours, tears blurring his vision. He hated this—all of this.

Tears sting your eyes as well. Your free hand reaches up, brushing his cheek gently. His eyes flutter at your touch. "You didn't ruin anything..."

He shakes his head, refusing to accept the comfort you try to offer him. The guilt is too heavy, weighing him down like a thousand-pound weight. He feels so undeserving. "I did...I always do. I-I..." His voice trails off, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"No-" Your hand cups his face, forcing him to look at you. "No, you don't. You might make mistakes, but you don't always screw things up. You're a good man, Bob. You're so much more than what you think of yourself..." You lean your forehead against his. “You’re good.”

He tries not to melt at the way you say his name. His face falls forward, leaning his forehead into yours. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of your touch, your words. "How can you say that? Especially after tonight..."

"Because it’s true.” You softly run your thumb over his cheek, catching another tear that slips down. “You are such a good man.” You take a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. “You’ve been through a lot…You’ve been beaten down many times…but you keep bouncing back up.” He’s still against you, his breathing ragged as he lets the comfort of your proximity soothe him. “You brought me back from the Void, you didn’t leave me…You’re so good!” You breathe out a laugh. "I wish you'd see it yourself."

He can’t speak, the lump in his throat preventing him from doing so. Instead, he closes his eyes tighter, relishing in the sound of your voice. He’s desperate to soak up every word you say, to have them sink in, become second skin. He’s been deprived of something so simple for so long, to hear the one person he cares about say those words…It’s making him unravel at the seams. When he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “Do you love me?”

The question hangs in the air like the sound of a church bell. You take note of how he’s looking at you. The way he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of human contact that he’s been deprived of. Your hand gently cups his chin, your other moving to rest over his heart. His gaze is fixed on yours like an anchor, waiting for you to respond. You can read the desperation and need in his eyes, the vulnerability that he's trying so hard to conceal.

You see a man wanting, no, begging to be loved. To be told that he's worthy of it despite believing otherwise. You look at the way he's clutching your hand, desperate for some kind of reassurance. He's hurting, still so damn broken, but not loving him with every fiber in your being would hurt you more. "Yes…God, I’d be stupid not to." You breathe a laugh.

Your words hit him like a tidal wave. His heart stutters in his chest, the grip he has on your hand clenching involuntarily. His eyes search yours again, looking for any sign of deception, anything to tell him you don't really mean it. But all he sees is complete honesty looking right back at him. He shakes his head; a broken laugh escapes his lips as his chest tightens at the confession. "Yeah…You really mean that?"

His questioning. It only hurts you further. So you cup his face, bringing him closer so you could look into his eyes. “I do. I mean it...I love you.” He flinches. He’s frozen, eyes searching your face, waiting for you to take it back. You don’t.

You run your thumb over his skin, gently brushing your nose against his. You see tears form in his eyes again, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Gripping the material of the jacket he gave to you, pulling you close. “Can you repeat it?” He finally croaks out.

“I love you…” You’d tell him three thousand times if he asked.

He shivers; the tremble of his chin is barely noticeable. “Again?” You’re suddenly pulled into his lap with a soft force. The grip he has on you is tight, not rough, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

"I love you." You trace his jawline. He lets out a shaky breath. It's not long till you're leaning in to capture his lips with yours.

The first touch of your lips against his has him releasing a low groan. His eyes flutter as he melts into it before he suddenly pulls you flush against him, desperately trying to savor it—savor your touch. His lips move against yours in a frenzy, his hands gripping you tighter on your hips. The kiss is filled with need, a longing he can barely contain.

He can’t get enough. The taste of you was so sweet and warm. He’s been deprived of such a simple thing that now his body screams for it. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands exploring every part of you he can reach. He can feel your body against his, its heat, that only adds fuel to the fire. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate than you expected from him. When you pull back to gather your bearings, to allow oxygen back into your lungs, you can’t help but cry. Bob, already second-guessing the little make-out session, feeling he's done something wrong, was relieved when your words deterred his troubled thoughts.

“You're good, you're worthy, and you are so loved…” You wipe the remaining tears with the back of your hand. "If you ever take anything from this conversation, Bob, let it be those three words. You deserve to be wanted. To be happy, to be loved…"

#bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds imagines #bob reynolds x fem!reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x fem!reader #robert reynolds imagine #robert reynolds imagines #bob reynolds x you #sentry x reader #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts fanfic #writings by juls #writings by juls: robert reynolds #my gif

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loverslodge · 7 months ago

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my bidder

summery: your parents have treated you like a show piece which Bucky hated. but what crossed the limit was when your parents hold you up for an auction without telling you.

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x sub!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT, some plot but mostly smut, auctioning off a person, loss of virginity, panic attack mention, isolation mentioned, age gap (bucky is in his late 30s and reader is late 20s), use of nicknames (princess and baby), dom!bucky but no BDSM (because i don't know how to write it)

A/N: i love me some dad's best friend and especially Bucky. and seeing him in suit in thunderbolts is sending shivers down my spine.

James Buchanan Barnes was a bad man.

At least that's what he thought every time he saw you.

You were all he could think about every time your father was present in the room. Mostly because your father won't stop talking about you.

Your father had a tendency to show you off for his benefit and it irked Bucky greatly. You weren't something to be put in a glass jar but your father did just that. Your mom was no less. She too supported her husband on every decision he made about you and your life.

Bucky had seen you become trapped in your room because everything got too overwhelming. You had turned from a shy kid to a wallflower. That made Bucky overly protective of you. Every time your parents paraded you and your achievements around, Bucky would always cling on to you, trying to comfort you from a distance.

It was just another big party in the y/l/n household. You were forced to dress in white satin gown and were adorned with pearls. They had made you look like a virgin doll. They had their reasons for that, of course, but they hadn't told you anything about it. It's not like this was the first time you were being pushed into the unknown.

The room started to fill up and you started to notice that the room was filled with male guests. Occasional female guests but they all looked like escorts.

You shuddered with a bad feeling and slowly stepped in the shadows. A small yelp left your lips as you crashed into someone. Before you could scramble up and leave, you felt a metal hand steady your very open back.

“Bucky?”

“Hey, princess. You hiding again?” He chuckled at your jumpiness when someone walked too close. He pulled you closer. This was wrong. So wrong but you felt so right in his arms.

“Something doesn't feel right about tonight. I'm way too dressed up for this.” You always felt comfortable in Bucky’s arms but you never said anything. Why? Because you weren't allowed to think or say anything on your own.

Bucky was looking gorgeous in his black tux. His hair was slicked back and he smelled devine. His eyes held the same softness you had become used to over the few years. But you shouldn't think about this. It was wrong. He was your father’s best friend. You shouldn't let your mind take his kindness as something more.

“You look beautiful, princess.”

That nickname. He gave that to you when you met him the first day. You were dressed in your pink pjs and your hair was tied in a loose braid. You were about to go to bed but went down to the kitchen to get some water.

He was nursing a drink when you came across him. He figured you were the daughter and you knew he was the new friend your father had made. He got up from his seat and walked closer to you to introduce himself. He looked so much larger than you. To him you looked adorable and innocent, but locked up in a house. Since that day, he had been calling you ‘princess’ because your cheeks always tinted pink when he did.

“You look beautiful too, Bucky.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear you.

“Why do you look more panicked than usual, princess? Did someone say something to you?” He brought his flesh hand and stroked your back gently to calm you.

“No. That's the thing. Nobody is telling me anything. I don't know what today is about. And there are so many male guests. It's making me uncomfortable.”

“Wait, so you have absolutely no idea how today’s fundraiser is going to go?” Bucky’s eyebrows scrunched in concern. Something was definitely not right now.

You shook your head and looked at Bucky to give you answers. Your innocent eyes were calling to him but before he could tell you what's going on, your mother’s voice rang on the mic and your name was called.

Bucky reluctantly saw you walk away and you kept on glancing back at him. His eyes were filled with worry and you knew something wrong was going to happen.

Bucky sat down at his table near the stage where the auction was about to begin. He thought about why you weren't told about this but he wanted his thoughts to be proven wrong. Surely your parents weren't that power hungry.

All the women you had noticed were called on stage one by one and were being auctioned off. Your heart racing off the charts and you kept on glancing at Bucky from behind the curtains. He hadn't put in a price at any of them. You were relieved by that but terrified about you being put beside all these women.

Soon all the women in front of you were auctioned off.

“And now, a very special someone. She carries all of my pride with her.” Your father began your introduction and you smoothened your dress, trying to look brave.

Bucky felt like he was staring at the devil. How could your own father auction you off to all these sleazy men out here? His biggest fear of tonight was coming to light. He had been meaning to save you from this prison for a while and your father had just given him the reason to drag you away, even if it cost him a few hundred thousand bucks.

“Please welcome my daughter, Y/N! Her bidding starts at…”

You were now standing in front of all these… eyes. You felt cheap. You felt like a whore. Your parents had officially become vultures to you. Tears were streaming down your face as you stood on the stage. Nobody cared about that.

Because the spotlight was on you, you couldn't see who was bidding on you. But as the numbers went higher, the cheaper you felt. Till everything came to a standstill and you saw someone walk up to the stage.

“Come on, baby. Let's get going.” Bucky’s voice tore through the hooting and booing of the crowd.

You gasped in shock but you walked to him anyway. At least he made you feel safer. He wrapped one hand around your waist and the other around your legs and lifted you like a sack on his shoulder.

You refused to meet your parents’ eyes as you were carried out of the room where another round of hooting erupted.

Bucky walked straight to your room, not bothering to stop anywhere else. When you both reached the door to your room, he slowly lowered you down. You were a crying mess but at least now you were safe.

“Come on, princess. Let's go in.” Bucky nudged your back a little.

“B-b-but that's my room.” You cowered.

“Princess, listen. If you open your door and invite me in, only then will I step into your safe space. Also, I cannot talk about anything out here. There are ears everywhere.” He caressed your hair to calm you down. He brought out his handkerchief and cleaned your face a little to make you feel more calm.

You nodded and opened the door to your room and stepped in with Bucky in tow. As soon as you stepped in the room, he closed the door shut. You panicked. Was he going to do something? This is not how you pictured to spend time with the man you had fallen in love with.

“Princess, don't worry. I didn't close, just shut the door for a little privacy. Now, pack your bags. I'm taking you home with me.”

“Wh-what?”

You were shocked by his revelation. Anywhere would be better than here with your parents but you were not ready, were you? You really were a princess and anywhere else felt… scary.

“I'm not letting you stay here a minute longer. Showing off your achievements was different but auctioning you off is fucked up.” Bucky dragged out your big suitcase and started stuffing all your comfy clothes in it.

“Bucky, wait, stop! What are you doing?” You hold his hand and pull him to face you.

“I am getting you out of here. Did you know what was going on down there? Teh auction? It wasn't just for the money. Those were… i cant believe your father… he was selling you off to the highest bidder. You would have been ruined by now! You weren't going to be returned if someone else had taken you!”

Bucky closed your suitcase after emptying more than half of your room. He was frustrated. He ran his hand on his hair and started dragging your suitcase out of the room.

“Wait, Bucky! We can’t- you can't just take me with you! That's- you're my father’s best friend.”

“I can.” He holds your jaw in his hand, softly but with authority. “I paid for you, princess. This is my one and only way of saving you from all of this.”

“Why do you want to save me, Bucky?” Your voice faltered. Your face was very close to his.

“Because, my dear Princess, you belong to me now. I've had my sights on you for a really long time and now I get to have you the way I want.” Bucky pecked your lips and held your hand to pull you to his car that was parked right outside the door.

………………………..

You stepped in the Barnes Manor and looked at the grandeur of everything around you. You didn't expect Bucky to be so… materialistic.

“Not everything is mine. My ex wife was way too much into these things. Been trying to get rid of things but i don't know how or where to start.” Bucky looked at you as if he could read your thoughts.

He asked you to follow him and he took you to an empty room. It looked like an empty canvas. Bucky’s men dropped off your bags in the room and left, closing the door behind them.

“Umm… Bucky… How will you have me?” Your whispered voice bounced against the room walls, making Bucky take a sharp turn at you.

“What?” He was flabbergasted.

“Well, you, uh, paid for me. So, you get to have me, right? That's what the auction was about?” You were fidgeting, looking down at your shoes.

“Is that what you think?” Bucky walked closer to you. “That I brought you here to have my way with you?” Bucky cupped your face and made you look up. “Princess, I brought you here because I am not letting someone else have you, not because I want you.”

“So… you don't want me?” Seeing him this close was bringing back those burning desires you have always felt for him.

Seeing your pout and hearing your question, stirred the buried desire in Bucky back to life. If he could, he would've taken you right there in your bedroom but he held on to the one thread of decency.

“Don't say it like that, princess.” There was barely any space between yours and his lips. “I want you so bad, baby, but it's wrong. You're my best friend’s daughter.”

Your eyes fall on his lips, refusing to waver. “You're right. This is very wrong.” You curled your fist around his blazer pulling him slightly closer.

“Princess…” Bucky warned you.

“Yes, sir?” The designation just slipped out.

Bucky lost all his control. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips on yours. His tongue slipped in your mouth as you moaned in the kiss. Your hand snaked around his neck and forced his face closer to yours. You bit his lower lip that made him groan.

He walked forward without breaking the kiss till you both hit the edge of the bed. He pushed you on the bed gently and hovered over you, taking your lips back on his. He kept on pushing you back till you were in the middle of the bed, all tangled up in him.

His lips moved on every inch of your face, kissing and then moved down to your neck, making you moan louder. He nipped at your skin and kissed down your valley before moving back up to your lips.

“Please, sir.” You were begging so prettily. With perfectly swollen lips and dazed eyes, you looked every way ready to be fucked.

“Princess, are you sure? This is your first time.” Bucky caressed your cheeks.

“Yes, sir. Have me. I'm ready. Please fuck me. Please.” You fumbled with Bucky’s shirt buttons.

“Ok ok.” Bucky chuckled, looking at your impatience. “We've got to get you out of that beautiful dress first and then we will remove my suit, okay? And then if you still feel ready, i will fuck you.”

You scrambled up to your feet and tried to find the zipper of the dress to take it off, without trying to tear it. You pouted at Bucky who was looking at your struggle with an amused face.

“Alright. Let me help you. You'll be patient, yes?”

You nodded enthusiastically and stood still like the good girl you want to be for him. He moved you around and zipped down your dress and gently, it fell down at your foot, leaving you exposed. All you were wearing was white underwear since there was no way you could've been able to wear a bra in that dress.

“Wow, princess, you are even more gorgeous than I had imagined.” Bucky gently cupped your boobs and thumbs your nipples, making you push yourself on to him.

“You, you imagined me?” You look at him with wide eyes. You had never expected the man of your dreams doing the same thing you've been doing.

“Of course, baby. Why do you think it was so easy for you to let me kiss you?” Bucky started unbuttoning his shirt. Soon, he was standing in front of you, very, very naked.

You had wanted to cover yourself up but you were so distracted by him, his hands and then his large cock that until he held your hand and guided you back to bed, you were unaware about everything else.

“So, one last time, do you want to go to sleep or do you still want to continue?”

Bucky was ready to pull on the comforter and go to sleep naked beside you. He could relieve himself in the bathroom. He didn't want to put any pressure on you.

“Please, sir. Fuck me.”

Bucky wasted no time in tearing away your underwear and situating himself in between your legs.

“Now, I'm going to have to open you up for me. You still have a chance to say no. After I'm done using my fingers on you, if you feel you've had enough, tell me and we stop.”

Bucky was impatient to have you around his cock but he wasn't going to make you feel like you had to. He actually thought he didn't need to prepare you for seeing how wet and dripping you were for him. But he wanted your first time to be easy, as easy as he could make it for you.

“Pay attention to this, princess. I will go easy but we will use safewords. We will use traffic signals. Green is for good, yellow is to pause or slow down and red is to stop completely. Tell me, which are the safewords? I want to hear them from you.”

“Green is for good, yellow is for pause and red is for stop.” You repeated like a diligent student.

“My good girl. Now, I will be inserting my fingers in you. If you feel uncomfortable, use the safewords. Do you understand?” Bucky started stroking your petals with his fingers, very slowly.

Your breath hitched and you nodded eagerly, excited to see and feel what Bucky would do to you. But he stopped stroking and looked with disapproval. “Use your words, princess. Do you understand?”

“Yes I understand, sir. Please don't stop.” Your breathy reply gave Bucky the satisfaction and he started stroking your petals again, spreading the wetness all around.

Bucky decided not to make you beg so much and very slowly inserted his first metal finger in. you whimpered and gasped at the new intrusion. You cover your mouth with your hands and turn your face, trying to subside the noises coming out from you.

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well. So fucking beautful and tight, writhing under me. I haven't even put my cock in yet.”

Bucky was able slide his second finger just as easily because of how turned on you were. He increased his pace and you mewled under him. He tsked at you trying to hide your voices and so he brought his other hand over to your clit and rubbed it, making you move your hands from your mouth to grip the sheet under you.

“I knew I could get you to remove your hands. You sound so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Oh god! I'm gonna- Bucky! Please, sir. I'm going to-” You were struggling to get the words out without moaning in between.

“Cum for me, princess. Drench my fingers.”

And you did just that. His ministrations led to your cum spurting out on his metal hand that kept on moving in and out of you, making you ride your orgasm. When you came down from your high, he pulled his fingers out, licking them clean, making you wetter than you already were. A small moan escaped your lips, seeing him enjoying your juice.

“You like seeing me enjoy your juice, don't you?” Bucky chuckled at your squirming reaction. He was still sitting between your legs, you being completely exposed to him.

You nodded with blush heavily creeping on your face.

Bucky leaned down and kissed you deeply, making you taste yourself. Your hands rested on his biceps as he sat back up. “What's your color, princess?”

“It's green, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, do you want my cock in you?”

“Yes sir.” Bucky pulled out a condom from the drawer beside the bed and put on the rubber. You looked intently at his actions, learning how to do it when next time you get to have Bucky.

Bucky pecked you on the lips again and aligned himself against your folds. You gasped at the new sensation. Bucky faltered a little. He was about to pull away but you held onto his bicep tighter and pulled him back.

“It's green, sir. I will tell you if I want to stop. So please don't stop. I want you so bad.”

“You beg so pretty, princess. How can I say no to you?”

Bucky pushed his cock furthur in you and just as he was completely in you, your back arched, letting out a lazy moan and a hiss from your throat. Bucky groaned as he felt you tighten around him.

“Fuck, princess. You're strangling me.”

You mewled as he began to move. In and out. The motion was simple but the feeling building inside of you wasn't.

“Been wanting you for so long, sir.” A strangled cry from your mouth cut you off as he pushed himself deeper. “Been thinking only about you.”

Bucky groaned at your confession and his speed increased, making your back arch again with a sudden loud moan. “My princess. All mine, aren't you?”

A garbled moan left you before you could form a full sentence. “All.. yours… sir…”

“Please go faster, sir.” You dug your nails in his bicep.

“No, I don't want to hurt you.” His voice strained. He was holding himself back and you knew that.

“You will never hurt me, sir. Please go faster. Don't hold back.”

Hearing you affirm that you're okay, Bucky pressed himself on you and put his arms under you. Your arms held onto his back and your nails dug and dragged on his back, leaving marks as he increased his thrusting.

“Oh god! Sir! Don't stop. So good!”

“Not stopping, princess. Never stopping. I could just keep on going like this.”

You mewled and whimpered at every thrust and he tightened his hold around you. Your nipples brushed against his and he moved his metal hand from under you to hold your nipple. He turned and twisted them, making you cry out in pleasure.

Bucky put his mouth on your boobs and sucked hard on your nipples, sending waves of pleasure to your folds. His relentless thrusting just added more to what you have been holding on to. The knot in your stomach tightened, sending a familiar shiver down your back.

“Sir, i’m-”

“Cum my princess, you've been good. Cum for me.”

Bucky sped up his thrusting and you arched against him as you found your release. He kept on thrusting through your orgasm, finally finding a release in you. Your pussy had tightened its hold on him and milked him so well. He kept on murmuring praises in your ear as his thrusting faltered and he stayed still.

“Are you ok, princess?” Bucky shifted and pulled out of you. You whined at the loss but were too fucked out to move. “Use your words, baby.”

“I'm ok. I'm more than ok.” You gave him a dazed smile that made him chuckle.

He stood up from the bed and carried you to the bathroom and helped you clean up. He filled the tub with warm water and sat you in the tub and settled behind you. He pulled you flush against his chest and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Will you send me back? Now that you got what you paid for?” Your small voice clenched his heart.

“I didnt pay to fuck you, princess. I paid to get you out of that house. Having you in my bed, naked, wanting, is just a perk.” Bucky kissed your cheek and pulled you even closer. “I am not sending you anywhere, princess. You belong to me now. The moment you stepped in my house, you were mine. And now that I've had your taste, I'm not going back.”

“So,” you fiddled with your fingers. “If I belong to you, if I am yours, then does that mean you belong to me too? Does that mean you're mine too?”

“Yes, princess. I am all yours.” Bucky kissed your shoulder and then pulled you in a sweet kiss.

You both get up from the tub and Bucky dried you with a fluffy towel. He put one of his old t-shirts on you and a pair of his old breezy boxers that had gotten too tight because of his thighs. He wore one of his joggers and an old tank.

You both slipped in bed and he pulled you flushed against him. You sighed deeply and closed your eyes as the tiring activities were taking over you. But then you had a thought and your eyes popped open. You sat up on the bed, startling Bucky.

“What about dad? He… won't he ask you to return me? What will we do? He'll be pissed. He will cut me off. I have nowhere else to go. I think I should go back.”

Bucky sat up and cupped your face, making you look at him. The panicked look in your eyes made him want to tuck you closer to him but it wasn't going to work. He needed to calm you.

“Princess, look at me. What did I say about you being here?”

“That I belong to you and I'm yours.” your voice turned smaller.

“Exactly. So don't worry about your father at all. I'm here. I will handle everything. And you are not leaving this house. This is yours just as much as mine. Understood?” Bucky caressed your cheeks to calm you down.

“Yes. Understood.” You moved closer to Bucky who pulled you further into his embrace.

“Good girl. Now get some sleep.” He pulled you back on bed and kissed your forehead as you snuggled closer into his arms.

Bucky knew it would cost something to have you in his arms but he also knew that once he had you, he would pay the price but never let you go.

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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 3 months ago

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that one guy - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader has an off feeling about this one guy... so spencer has a look at said guy

genre: fluff wc: 0.8k warnings: boyfriend!spencer, r wears a dress, made up womanizer character named tristan, drinking, blond guy slander a/n: anon request!

We all know that one person.

The one that everyone likes–the one that always has the most charming smile and the most lovely personality.

In this case, it’s that one guy. All of your friends love him and you, well, don’t. It’s just a certain something about him. He’s too squeaky clean for someone who jumps from girl to girl, calling them all crazy afterwards. Every last one was either a stalker, too clingy, or so batshit that he had no choice but to dump her over text.

But nobody thinks that’s something odd.

Especially your friend that fell for him quicker than what it takes for him to write a goodbye note. You warned her, over and over. Yet, she stuck up her nose and called you an unsupportive friend.

Which is preposterous, by the way.

Your mission for the night is to find a reason why this guy is so bad. Because, right now, you’ve got unfortunate dating history and a hunch. Call yourself a journalist.

Instead of doing this all on your own, you’ve called for reinforcements. Very cute reinforcements if you do say so yourself.

Your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, the profiler he is, is going to help you get some insight on this guy. Hopefully being a male will also help.

The party was supposed to be a simple get-together for your friend group but, how parties go, too many people found out and the guest list multiplied.

Your hands smooth out the fabric of your mini dress as you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” Spencer asks, peeking into your bedroom.

“Yeah.”

The party is less of an ordeal than you imagined. The house isn’t filled to the brim with ass-hats with red Solo cups–instead, there are guys in suits and girls in mini skirts.

Not frat assholes, but snooty assholes.

Yes, music is still blaring and you’re sure this is Spencer’s worst nightmare, but it’s less get drunk and pass out on the couch than most of the parties you’ve been to.

“Is he here yet?” your boyfriend wonders aloud, hand on your back.

Your manicured finger points to a blond–of course he’s blond–standing and talking to a short guy in a tux by the drink table.

“Allow me to introduce you,” you grin ironically. You drag him by the hand while he never loses his grip on your waist.

The man is tall with a wicked smile and a face that says my dad owns the place, do you want to go upstairs? That face unsettles you.

He looks down at you and yells over the music, “well, hey! I didn’t expect you to come. I thought you’d be knitting or something…”

“I don’t knit.”

He nods, taking a gulp of his scotch. “Who’s this?” he asks, pointing to Spencer.

“This is my boyfriend! Spencer.”

“Tristan,” he introduces himself before his eyes find you again, “I didn’t peg you for the boyfriend type,” the man smiles like it was a compliment.

“Right.”

Your eyes meet Spencer’s for a moment before you turn back to your enemy (no, that’s not an overdramatization).

“I’m going to get a drink!” you hum in faux pleasantness.

The excuse to skedaddle was obviously not believable considering the assortment of alcohol was quite literally right in front of you.

Spencer’s gaze follows you until you’re impossible to spot even with a magnifying glass. When he turns back to the slightly shorter man, his eyes are fixed on where you–and your short dress–were last visible.

“You got an interesting girl.”

“What’s that mean?” your boyfriend attempts to sound curious, not protective.

Tristan shrugs dismissively.

“She’s… someone that gets old fast.”

Your heels click on the tile as you enter the kitchen. Everyone here is dressed so nicely. The bustling atmosphere both overwhelms and exhilarates you. Sparkling faces and smiles surround you as your fingers wrap around a flute of something bubbly. It fizzes all the way down your throat. Your brain keeps floating back to the conversation you’re missing out on.

It’s only when you feel a large hand on your shoulder that you don’t feel like you’re missing out on all that much. “Let’s go,” Spencer mutters before an awkward smile that makes his lips press together in a flat line.

You aren’t so upset to leave.

His words come out strung together and garbled while he guides you out of the party, “I don’t mean to–uh–be controlling or anything, but you should… stay away from that guy.”

And, you know what?

Yeah.

“The amount of misogynistic, conservative, and frankly perverted things that I had to listen to…” he shakes his head and his voice raises an octave to say, “also, the way he talked about you! Honestly, just, for your safety–”

“Spencer,” you giggle, spinning to cup his face. “I really just wanted an excuse not to talk to him.”

Those pretty teeth of his peek out thanks to a pretty smile. “Okay,” he laughs.Your feet bring you down the porch steps swiftly. A soft (albeit childish) giggle leaves you before you squeal, “also, his name is Tristan.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert

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rentenier3148 · 2 months ago

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I Tried Not to Love You

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: You're an ex Avenger turned legislative assistant at the same time your ex boyfriend turned congressman. After avoiding him for years, Bucky calls you one night and asks for help. When a black void threat plunges the team, not only are you fighting the world—but also the versions of yourself you tried to forget.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warning: THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, So... so much angst, ex boyfriend and congressman Bucky (yes, it needs it's own warning), PTSD with a dark past, mentions of violence but nothing graphic, no use of y/n, not proofread

A.N: I did say I want to write something for Loki which is in the works! But I had to get this out of my head after watching Thunderbolts. Requests are open! I'll gladly make more!

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

“Are you kidding me, Barnes?” You tell him frustrated over the phone pinching your nose bridge.

You’re sitting at home munching on some grapes you had in a bowl while you reviewed some pending bills waiting to be signed on your lap. The TV is on with a movie playing that you stopped paying attention to. It’s just some background noise to disturb the silence.

“I need someone who won’t flinch.” He said on the other line.

You haven’t talked to Bucky in years, you tried avoiding him after your break up. Until you found out he was running for congress at the same time you became a legislative assistant. Then the gala came that Valentina Allegra de Fontaine hosted is where you—unfortunately, but quite amusingly—encountered him again.

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

The tux he wore made you gasp slightly and stand still for a good few seconds. He saw you eye him down and a small softness glazed over his face that nobody else would notice but you. Then you both looked away at the same time.

When you stood before the big ‘A’ he walked beside you. Quite frankly you didn’t notice him while you were reminiscing of your past as an Avenger. Maybe your keen assassin senses were starting to lack, or maybe his super soldier stealth was too good for you to catch up. You two were always butting heads about that.

“Didn’t think I would see you here.” He told you softly, he glanced my way but I stayed looking at the ‘A’. He pulled you out of whatever memory was playing in your head, and now you’re back to reality.

“Only here for the hors d’oeuvres and also my boss wanted me to gather information on others for an impeachment of someone.” You said with a sigh, like you were exhausted.

Bucky’s ears perked up. “Impeachment of who?” He asked but quieter this time. Hiding the fact he already knows who the suspected person is.

“It’s none of your business. Besides, why are you talking to me, congressman Barnes?” I say finally looking at him. I furrow my eyebrows at him, hoping it would scare him off but to no avail.

“I can’t compliment you and your outfit tonight, sweetheart?” He smiles the smile that makes you cause a flutter in your stomach. You hated it.

“No.”

“Well, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

You stayed quiet with the scowl on your face that’s contradicting with the blush slowly coming up your cheeks.

“Look, I know we ended things on bad terms back then. But since we’re in the same job now—why not at least be a bit friendly?” Bucky asks gently this time. That smile is still plastered on his face.

“I'd be more friendly if I was your assistant, but I’m not—aren't I? Plus if I was, one of us would've been dead by now.”

“I would love to be killed by you, doll.” He says playfully. I’ve had enough of his smile and petnames already.

“You’re infuriating.” You say as you quickly turn around and walk away. You didn’t notice the biggest breath of air he let out and his smile faltering as he remembers how much he loved you.

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“So… his name is Bob?” You ask. It almost sounds like a joke. On the other side of the line you hear a faint ‘Yeah, Bob.’ and a sigh from Bucky.

“... I’ll go.” You said after a moment. Bucky on the other side sort of hoped you didn’t agree so that you could stay safe. But he has no other option and really needed you to help him out.

“I’ll send you the coordinates so be prepared to leave soon,” he says until he goes softer, “thanks, by the way.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You both stayed on the line until you finally tell him that you’ll be on the way. You hang up on him and stare off at the TV huffing a big sigh. You cannot believe that you got yourself roped into this. But you needed a bit of excitement anyway.

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You are currently sitting in the back of a van on the way to the old Avengers tower—now called the Watchtower—where it held many fond and sad memories. You feel an ache in your stomach the closer you get.

Bucky and a bigger and older—though probably not as old as Bucky—man who you met named Alexei sit in the front while Bucky drives. You can slightly overhear them talking about being super soldiers and what kind of ‘super serum’ each one got.

“I don't know. Regular? Hydra.”

It’s an awkward silence between everyone else that you briefly met. You try to look anywhere else but at the others, but you guess the ceiling is quite appealing.

“How do you know Bucky?” Asks the blonde short haired girl. Yelena you faintly remember. You were best friends with her sister, Natasha. Yelena sought comfort in you after she died trying to find some type of closure. But you don’t think you helped her out much with that, and you get the sense she still feels the same way.

“We fought together when we were in the Avengers.” You intentionally kept it short and sweet. Yelena slightly squints her eyes at you—probably sensing I’m hiding more. A lot more.

The man with an odd copycat uniform of Steve’s Captain America suit—John—barks a short chuckle with a small shake to his head. You’re confused by his reaction.

A soft hum of acknowledgement from the other girl in the much cooler uniform comes out of her—Ava you think—until you crash into the tower.

You all get out of the van and start fighting the OXE group soldiers.

Then someone’s voice overhead speaks. It’s Valentina. She says that she intentionally left the doors unlocked and was expecting us. You watch Bucky headbutt a soldier as they hit the ground, making you slightly jump at the sight.

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

Bucky’s arm is broken off as he is hauled to the wall. Bob—or Sentry as he is referred to now—sees you and comes towards you. You don’t know if it’s because of how terrified you are or because he is too quick, but he seemingly appears behind you and grabs your neck. Cutting off your oxygen supply and throws you hard against the wall making everything in your vision a bit blurry and feeling lightheaded.

You lift your head and see Bucky’s metal arm being picked up at the same time you are lifted by your feet and stumbling quickly to the elevator. The lights in the elevator are so bright that you don’t notice that Bucky was holding your side, gripping hard enough to not let you fall but supple enough to not hurt you further.

You all stumble out of the elevator and into the streets. The heated arguments commence between each other while you try your best to catch your breath. With your eyebrows knitted together, you take a look at Bucky as he reattaches his arm and does that swing thing to get it working again.

How it still makes your stomach flutter, but your emotions are so strong that you don’t notice.

“Are you okay?” He says to me with concern.

“James, what the hell was that?” You scold. “I didn’t agree to this, I agreed to help you get Bob and take down Valentina. Not almost die.”

“I… didn’t think this would happen.” he looks at me solemnly, a hint of regret behind that sentence.

“Yeah, like how you didn’t think I would be hurt after what you said that night.” You are full on angry and seeing red at this point.

It was bound to happen that you and him were to eventually work together. But not like this. You expected an office, writing memos and debate about the tax increase on produce. Quick, simple, and nothing more. This was more than that, and you were livid. Along with the past starting to resurface.

“What does that have to do with what’s going on now?” His eyebrows are now furrowed. By this point, everyone else had already walked away, you both were the only ones left in front of the tower.

“Oh, it has everything to do with what’s going on now. I really didn’t want to be part of this at all. And I really didn’t want to see you at the gala, much less have you talk to me. I wanted to never see you again because you let me go that night and I wanted so badly for you to come chasing after me… and yet you didn’t.”

A beat.

“I want to hate you so bad… but I can’t bring myself to do that sometimes…” you grew quieter with your head starting to hang low and your eyes staring at the concrete.

Bucky stood there listening to me. His eyebrows slowly unfurrowing and a sigh comes out of his mouth.

“I didn’t want to let you go that night. I couldn’t chase after you either, I thought that you didn’t want me around anymore. At the gala, you looked so stunning that I needed to talk to you. I couldn’t resist how beautiful you looked. I thought things were okay and that maybe I could fix things.” He spoke softly, as if he slightly raised his voice that you would disappear.

“Well obviously they aren’t okay. Especially now.” You huffed out, you looked up at him to fully see his sorrowful expression.

A quiet wave came over the both of you.

“I’m sorry, doll.”

“A bit late for that.”

Then suddenly a suspicious overcast started looming over you. You both look up with a squint and see a floating black figure, It’s hard to recognize who it is at all. Even the outfit and cape the figure wore was pitch black.

You see the figure stretch out their arm and slowly a black starts emerging from the ground. The moment it touched a person, it was just a shadow.

A panic crashes into you as you see people running, cars are crashing into each other, and a helicopter crashes into a building. The rubble starts falling, you and Bucky immediately run to rescue any standbyers who were about to be crushed.

Bucky saves an elderly couple by a car flying towards them with his metal arm sending the car flying over. I speed over to a little girl to grab her away from the falling rubble.

The blackness is starting to creep closer and closer.

From the corner of your eye, you see John trying to hold up a large piece of rubble from a mother and baby. You go over and try to hold it up as well, then everyone who had swarmed off came to help. Bucky was the last to join, you sensed his reluctance.

After saving the mother and baby, the six of you head over to find cover under an alcove in a building.

The blackness is quickly spreading, turning more and more people into shadows. You lean against the wall looking down at the ground, wondering what can be done. This is basically impossible, there’s no way to fight a thing that can turn people into shadows.

You’re taken out of your trance to see Yelena step out to confront the being. You stare off in shock when she's turned into a shadow. Something hits you on the inside which makes you realize what needs to be done—or perhaps a guess at trying to fix it.

You step out and follow Yelena’s footsteps immediately turning into a shadow.

You didn’t hear when Bucky cried out your name thinking that you had just made a suicidal decision.

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

You jolt awake, looking around your surroundings. You recognize it too well.

You’re standing in the warehouse of your first mission during your youth.

The organization was a hybrid between the Red Room and Hydra, it essentially was the worst of the worst. Training you and rehabilitating you to become their most perfect assassin. Potentially becoming better than their Winter Soldier program and the girls who were trained in the Red Room.

You stood with a pistol in your hand that’s aimed at the temple of your older sister. You remember that your age didn’t hit double digits yet while your sister just turned ten. Your sister is on her knees with her hands tied behind your back. Your job was to execute your family to prevent you from being held back and expressing empathy.

Your sister pleaded your name and cried to let her go. You did not want to remember anything else so you merely closed your eyes as you heard the ‘bang’ that little you produced from the pistol. Your breathing staggers, then you open your eyes.

The same scene is repeated. You go over and grab hold of the gun to stop little you from doing anything else.

“Don’t do this, please.”

“You’re in my way, you need to leave!” Little you squeaks, quickly positioning the gun to your face and pulling the trigger.

You seemingly open your eyes again to turn and see the same scene repeat again. Before doing anything else, you see an open door with a white light emitting from the other side. You run towards it and step through.

As you step through, you open another door. You looked back and it looks like you stepped out of a small storage closet with the warehouse completely gone. You look around and it’s your room back at the Avengers compound.

You see ahead of you the scene play out. Past you and past Bucky in the most heated argument you’ve ever had. You look outside the large panned windows of your room and recognize it’s night time.

It’s that night.

“I can’t believe you did that shit! Are you too stuck in your Winter Soldier ways? Is that why you turned on me?” Past you scolded.

“You know I had no choice, you would do the same if you were in my position. I know how blood thirsty you can be…” He says with a scowl. You notice the blood stained knuckles past Bucky has and past you’s hair was slightly damp from sweat and stress.

“I’m not as bloody thirsty as you, Winter Soldier.” Past you leaned closer with her finger pointing into his chest.

“Winter Soldier or not, I would’ve murdered you on the spot if I wanted to… And I really did.” Past Bucky said with no remorse. Not even a change of expression, from your perspective you could see a hint of Winter Soldier peeking through his pupils.

Past you was mortified at his emotionless retort. With a small breath in, she looked deep into his eyes and said those words that you—and possibly her—never thought you would ever say in your life.

“I’m done with you.”

With that, past you storm out of your room slamming the door. You watch past Bucky bury his face in his and a long breath comes out of his mouth.

He didn’t go chasing after past you.

A single tear also falls from your face. You feel a presence slightly behind you. You quickly turn around and see it’s Bucky.

Your Bucky.

You can’t contain it anymore and the flood gates open. A hitch escapes from you from the sight of him. Bucky comes over and holds you so tight as if the entire world depended on it.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Bucky whispers so gently. You cry into his chest, unable to produce any other word. But you feel like Bucky understood what you wanted to say.

The scene starts repeating itself. Neither of us could help to look at it again. It was already too painful to experience it a second time.

“I found a way outta here.” He tells you once you started to calm down. You look up at him and see a few tears falling from his eyes as he wipes yours away. His hand stays there a bit longer cupping your cheek and you both give in to a kiss.

It was deep and emotional that it almost made you cry again. You missed this so much, you’re certain that he does as well since his hands didn’t leave your face. Cradling you so soft and so warm, despite his cold vibranium hand and his flesh one.

It feels like eternity when you both finally separate. Bucky’s hands graces down your neck to your shoulders, however the vibranium hand is the one that holds one of yours to guide you to the supposed exit out of this nightmarish memory.

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

You wake up on the ground all sprawled out. Your head is pounding with a fading memory. The last thing you remember was holding back Bob from beating up his ‘Void’ with everyone else holding on as well.

Also when we all reunited within the ‘Void’ someone asked about how our pasts were and Bucky said a sarcastic comment. “Oh I have a great past, so I’m totally fine.” or something along those lines with that stupid smirk he sometimes gives.

You slowly gather yourself up and push your hair out of your face. You notice everyone else is getting up as well, then you see Bucky. You both embrace and lips crash. The moment was shortened when you overhear the others checking in on Bob who’s no longer the other ‘him’.

Turns out, he doesn’t remember a thing and is just happy to know that he’s back with his friends.

You all spot Valentina Allegra de Fontaine getting up from the rubble. We walk up towards her as she tries to defend herself and walks behind a plastic sheet. From behind it, we are encountered with the press. The flashing lights and shuttering noise of the cameras overwhelm you that you don’t even hear Valentina introducing the lot of you as the ‘New Avengers’.

But you do see Yelena going up to Valentina and whisper something in her ear—a potential threat—as she falters slightly.

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

“I don’t think Avengers with a ‘Z’ is gonna cut it…” You say concerningly to Alexei.

“It’s so soft too! It feels like the bottom of a baby seal. ‘Lena touch it.” Alexei proclaims in his new ‘Avengerz’ jumpsuit as he walks to Yelena and stretches out his arm inviting her to feel the… softness.

“No. I don’t want to touch the bottom of a baby seal.” Yelena sternly says without looking up at him.

You sigh and lay back on the couch. You never would have thought that Sam—of all people—would have a lawsuit against us. He is Bucky’s closest confidant and someone he considers as family. You’re sure that Bucky feels a little backstabbed by all this.

You glance up at Bucky, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks down in deep thought. You place your hand on his lower back and draw circles of comfort on them. Bucky looks back at you and gives you a small kiss. This—unfortunately—catches the attention of Alexei.

“Wait, since when did you and him become… a thing?” He points between us trying to connect the pieces together.

“Since last year right? Our anniversary was a few months ago.” You say calmly while Bucky tries to—very poorly—hide his gentle smile.

“Months?!” Everyone says in unison.

You draw an awkward smile at everyone with a prolonged “Yeah…” and a giggle right after.

“So there was more of a history between you two, huh?” Yelena confidently says. Her suspicions a year ago were proven correct.

“A lot more history.” Bucky quietly says looking back at you confirming his statement. You just softly nod back with a hum.

“Wonder when we’ll know the rest…” Ava says quietly.

Silence hits the room, until the suction of Bob’s milkshake ignites a lightbulb in your brain. You stand up immediately.

“You know, if Sam is going to file a lawsuit against us he’s gonna have a good lawyer with him.”

Everyone chimes in, intrigued but confused at what you’re trying to say.

You start pacing the room with a finger on your chin, Bucky could probably see the gears turning extra hard.

“That means we’re gonna need a lawyer.”

“Well duh, how else is this supposed to go down? We represent ourselves?” John retorts to you while fiddling with the unlabeled buttons of his chair.

“I think that wouldn’t go well if we did, you know… since my other ‘me’ did that last year… um, yeah.” Bob says out loud from his secluded spot, then returns to drinking his milkshake.

Your pacing stops as you look at everyone in the room, a devious smirk spreads your cheeks. Bucky also smirks, but you don’t think he has the same idea as you do.

“I know a lawyer… a really good lawyer…”

⚡︎ ⋯ ─── ★ ─── ⋯ ⚡︎

I really love all the engagement on my series so far! I promise I'll return to it soon. If you want to be tagged, just comment or pm me and I'll add you. Thanks for reading!! <3

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screampied · 1 year ago

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hii i just wanted to say that your writing is SO GOOD!! i saw that your requests are open so i’d love to see a hiromi (jjk) x reader fanfic because i haven’t seen nearly enough smut fanfics of him 😔💔 would lowkey love to see soft!dom hiromi or switch!hiromi but it’s your choice 🙏🏻🙏🏻 thanks for reading this, obviously if you’re not comfy with it then feel free to ignore this req!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 hiromi talking you through your first orgasm

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom! hiromi, cowgirl, praise, overstim, mdni.

an. thank YOUUUU SM !! <3

“hey, sweetheart don’t be shy,” he murmurs against your neck. you intake a sharp breath with your arms thrown around him. he stares at you with a soft smile, brushing a thumb against your cheek before planting a wet kiss against your mouth. “you’re close, aren’t you?”

“yeah…” you whined, burying your face into the crook of his name. higuruma lowly chuckles against your ear, he’s stuffed deep inside you, and you’re barely moving your hips—you shook, feeling the bundle of nerves all throughout your body commence into a sudden electrifying surge.

albeit, he was very much patient with you.

you melted into his embrace, gradually rocking your hips, and he softly drags your waist further against him. a raspy grunt leaving his mouth before he purrs. “mhm…easy, there we go, good girl. don’t rush. just like that. lean into me, baby. i got you.”

his words warmed its way into your heart and you let off a moan from the utter thickness of his dick stretching out your walls.

despite his girth easily outlining its way inside of your pussy, it felt good. he finds it cute the way you tremble against his touch, your legs trembling above him. “h—hiromi,” you panted, your voice being a bit more whiney — the coldness of his watch material dances against your skin, and it makes you shudder in desperate rapture. “i feel it, ‘s gonna.. ‘m gonna cum.”

“you are,” he whispers, kissing the inner part of your neck. “so be a good girl and give it to me, okay? nice ‘n slow, focus on your breathing for me baby.”

your hips bucked and bucked against higuruma in free will. eyes rolling, nearly drooling. you don’t think you’ve ever experienced a feeling like this. intimate, sure but you’ve always found it hard to please yourself. let alone find it embarrassing to even think of touching yourself.

alas, the moment you asked your lover, higuruma.. he was more than happy to comply. he wanted you to feel good, and that you were.

your mouth tasted a bit salty, and your nails dug into the thick fabric of his lazily half-on tux. higuruma smelt enchanting.

his cologne was just something you could never get enough of. the way he softly ghosts his fingertips against your bare ass.

so soft, it tickled for a brief moment before he brings his fingers towards your waist, outlining your curves — in his eyes, you were nothing more than a perfect girl to him.

“such a pretty body,” he utters, a groan nearly slipping past his lips. your head remained hidden into the side of his neck, gingerly nipping against his skin and he chuckles. “—and an even more playful girl.”

“hiromi, it feels— feels…”

you whimper, languidly leaning into his touch. each time your words got cut off by the sensations of your own cunt, your mind went fuzzy.

you could barely comprehend anything. buried into the hilt, he’s sinking into you with such gentle yet full throttle. “i know, baby. i feel it too. you’re getting me all…sensitive myself.”

his words made you throb, the way he’d pitch his voice and give you a teasing grin — you studied his facial expressions.

his pretty hooked nose that you’d kiss all over, the small dimples stretching near the corners of his lips unintentionally whenever he spoke a sentence. it always went on, higuruma treated you like a doll.

“just let go for me, princess. don’t gotta be shy to get a little filthy around me.” he whispers, kissing near the outer lobe of your ear.

you left off a soft moan against his ear, and the hairs beneath his neck stood up just from your voice. you felt your thigh start to shake just a bit as you steadily rutted your hips against him again and again and again. “oh, what—? you tryin' to give me a kiss, baby?”

he chuckles, watching you tilt your face forward, just missing his lips due to your eyes closed and he smiles. “come here, princess.”

you moaned into his mouth, swathing your arms around him and his lips curve into a warm smile. you tasted sweet…

indescribable yet entirely sugary. higuruma’s tongue grazes against your own before you started to jolt and shake, feeling it. he runs a hand down your back to soothe you before you’re cumming, whining.

higuruma shushes you, parting your legs for a brief moment before uttering once he moves his lips away.

“i know, i know. relax,” and he presses you against his chest to kiss your forehead. “good girl. such a good pretty girl,” and he softly strokes the back of your head — dick still twitching inside of you. you’re murmuring inaudible nothings of straight babbles and he smiles to himself. “that was just one orgasm, i wonder how’d you be if i pull another one out of you, princess.”

#★vegasbaby.#higuruma smut #higuruma x reader #hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi x reader #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #female reader #anime smut

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aworldinsideaperson · 3 months ago

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Gala - Doctor Michael Robinavitch

Pairing: Dr. Michael Robinavitch x Charge Nurse!Reader

Plot: Dr. Robby and Charge Nurse!Reader, attend a fundraising Gala for the hospital.

Warnings: Age Gap (18-20 years)

Word Count: 3700

A/N: For the first time in almost a decade I could not stop writing until I finished. I have spent every spare second, stayed up past my bedtime, and hurt my back scrunching over my laptop for hours while I wrote a fic. I am really excited about this and I hope that other people enjoy this as much as I do. Even my bestie @ethereal27cereal who has not watched a moment of The Pitt enjoyed it so hopefully that’s a good sign!

Her idea of a good time after work usual consisted of fluffy slippers and her newest romance novel, her current read being a work place romance that made her feel weak in all the best places. To her a good time did not include shimmying her hips into a dress in the hospital bathroom after a long shift. But she was new, she wasn’t sure she could tell Gloria no when she insisted they NEEDED the new day shift charge nurse at the PTMC fundraising gala. In fact, Gloria was gone before she’d gotten any response at all.

So here she was, smoothing out the glittering fabric of a dress she’d never even imagined trying on, as she walked down the hall of the emergency department to grab the last of her things. The first voice she heard was Frank Langdon, a resident recently returned from a leave she hadn’t been nosey enough to ask about.

“You look… wow.” Was all he could manage, his mouth agape and eyes like saucers.

Y/N’s face contorted, eyes darting to Princess who sat at the computer closest to her.

“Is it too much?” She asked as a look of panic washed over her face. “I’ve never gone to one of these things but Javadi said it was kind of on par with what people typically wear and Cassie said it looked nice so I-” Her rambling was cut short by a whistle.

“Actually, I said it was hot and I was totally right!” The grin on McKay’s face seemed to only grow as she came closer to the small group that was beginning ot form at the corner of the nurses station. “Turn around;” She encouraged. “Give them the whole look.”

Y/N’s tight shoulders sagged, a small smile coming to her lips as she did a slow turn, revealing the low back with strands of cream pearls draping from one shoulder across to the other, then turning around again. Her eyes were glued to the ground, lips pulled in tight. A new voice letting out a soft “wow” causing her eyes to dart back up towards the sound.

“Well put Robby.” Langdon chuckles, patting his mentor on the shoulder as he passes by headed for his next patient.

A gasp comes from just down the hall. “Oh my gosh you look so pretty!” Mel exclaims, the smile on her face bright and genuine as she approaches the dwindling group of staff. Y/N whispers a small thanks, smiling at the sweet woman now before her. “And you look very distinguished Dr. Robby.” Mel continues, her head held high as she continued to smile at her attending.

“Thank you Mel,” Robby smiles, “ someone finally notices the old man in the very expensive rented tux.” He eyes the remaining crowd.

“Well comparatively, you’re not much to look at.” Matteo lets out a smooth laugh, grabbing a tablet and chasing after Langdon; catching him just as he was walking out of the patients room likely to get the tablet Matteo was handing him.

Y/N shuffles closer to Dr. Robinavitch. He was tall, with dark locks, sweet brown eyes, and she wondered if the beard felt as soft as it looked. She often had to talk herself down from reaching out to touch it. Especially now. Well groomed, it looked shaped and brushed and oiled. She thought about how smooth it’d feel against her skin. Surely a thought that would get her into so much trouble. Michael Robinavitch, nearly 20 years her senior, was handsome and sweet and kind and if she thought about it too much she might just break the careful wall she’s been building to keep her desires at bay. Yet she still reached out. Still slowly moved her hand over his shoulder. Lint. She’d explained to herself. Though looking at him with a sweet smile and a soft compliment, “Well I think you look great Robby.” She felt like she was on fire.

He smiled, eyes locking with hers, sounds of the emergency department dissipating to a low hum, “Thank you Y/N, but he’s right, you are the better looking ED staff.” He was quiet, as he often was with her, as if the two of them were in their own little world. Her thanks just as soft before the two of them turn to the remaining staff, all of whom pretending as if they were not just watching their interactions like some HBO romantic drama.

“Don’t be afraid to come get us if you need anything.” Robby’s voice loud, stressing the last word of his sentence.

“And he does mean anything. Need help with a bandage please do not hesitate to come get one of us, preferably me, from the very stuffy and exhausting event where we will be begging for money.” Her face pleading.

“Yes, and as the attending you should really come get me.” He stressed.

McKay rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to be getting either of you. Night shift is here soon we can hold down the fort until then.”

“I just really think one of us should stay with you guys. And as the attending it really should be me.” He was beginning to sound like a child, begging not to go to great grandma’s house.

It’s Collins, fresh out of a patients room, bump protruding as she places her hands on her hips. “Get out of my ED before I have you both banned from the property.”

“You can’t do that.” Robby insisted.

Cocking her head to the side, her smile dropped. “Wanna bet? I’ve got an in with the security around here.”

This caused Y/N to place her hand on Robby’s chest and gently direct him to the door. “Alright well I guess we’ll head out. Unless anyone needs anything last minute.” Making one last attempt to get their way thwarted by a chorus of “Get out!” from what seemed to be the entire department. Y/N shoots back a final “Have a good night guys.”

As they finally make their way out the door, Santos yells out after them. “Go get us some fucking funding!”

What they don’t hear are the chattering voices wondering. “Think they’ll make it the night without sleeping together?”

Or the responses of, “Fuck no.”

Together the two walked across the street in silence. Comfortable walking side by side, Robby offering his arm as they stepped off the ledge of the sidewalk and into the street. She moved slower than usual in the heels she’d donned but he didn’t seem to mind as he kept an eye out for cars and potential hazards until they stepped back up to the sidewalk in front of the event center.

That’s then that she froze. Face twisted and breath caught in her throat. “Are you sure this looks okay?” She asked, eyes trained on Robby who kept his glued to hers. “I know I keep asking I’m not fishing for compliments I just don’t want to make a bad impression and maybe ruin something good coming to the ED.” The words were rushed, pouring out of her as she spiraled into panic.

Robby took a deep breath, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. “Relax.” He began. Demonstrating deep breathes to encourage her own before continuing. “You look gorgeous.” His voice reassuring and her shoulders dropped, breathing finding a more normal pattern. “If it makes you feel better I’ve only been to like 2 of these and both times I threw up in the parking lot and we still got new chairs for the nurses station last year.” He let out a soft laugh, though from the look of mild distress he seemed to be telling the truth.

A wide grin spread across her face, eyes lighting up with joy. “So really so long as I don’t kill anyone they’ll let us keep our half working coffee machine?”

Robby laughed, a full laugh that shook into his core, a thing he seemed to do more and more the more time he spent around Y/N. “If you’re really charming they may even put name brands in the vending machine.”

Feigned horror and shock painted across her features before becoming stoic and serious. “There’s a lot riding on this then.” Her face cracked into a small smile and his heart stuttered.

“You’re gonna be great.” He assured once again, his thumb now stroking back and forth on her shoulder, the tips of his fingers grazing the skin of her shoulder. “Hell of a lot better than me probably why they invited you.”

Y/N looked at the older man skeptically. “I don’t know Robby, you’re pretty charming.”

“Only to you.” The words slipped, his smile dropping slightly as he finally removed his hand and turned to the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

The doors opened into a large banquet room with high ceilings and chandeliers. Y/N wondered how much had been spent on this event while the hospital remained understaffed. It was a beautiful space and music filled the air around them, loud enough to hear, to spur some folks to dance, and soft enough to speak over. That was the purpose after all, speaking, begging, convincing people that their hospital, that the Emergency Department, was worthy of their donations. It’d be a long night.

Robby leans down, his lips closer to her ear than needed. “I’m going to grab us some drinks. Why don’t you find our seats.”

A quick nod and Y/N is setting off in the direction of the poster that seemed to be holding table assignments. Images of her best friend’s wedding nearly a decade prior flash through her mind. The last time she’d worn something so formal, been in such a beautiful space. She had 3 kids now and their once daily chats had dwindled to quarterly calls. She knew all about Robby though. She called after Y/N’s first week in the Pitt and she’d clocked then Y/N’s little crush. Called it sexy trouble.

Finding her way to the table she and Robby were assigned she thought about the phrase from her friend. ‘Sexy Trouble.’ Doctor Micheal Robinavitch was definitely sexy and the way she felt when he was close, so so much trouble.

He placed a glass of champagne in front of her and one in space beside her. Their table was empty, likely already mingling. “What’s our plan of attack?” He asked plopping down beside her.

“I was going to ask you that. You’re the one whos done this before.” Her face again began too contort, anxiety raising in her chest.

“Have you seen the state of the ED? I’m not exactly doing a great job.”

“You’re doing the best you can. Gloria and the board might not know that but even in these last six months I’ve seen it very single day. You’re doing the best you know how.”

Robby closed his eyes, taking her hand in his and giving it a tight squeeze. Looking into her eyes a beat of Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time reaches his ears. Smiling brightly he stands. “May I have this dance?”

“Only if you don’t mind me stepping all over your toes.” She laughs though she’s already standing, hand still holding tightly to Robby’s.

“I’ll take my chances.” Giving her hand another squeeze he leads her to the space a few pairs have made, swaying to the beats of an eclectic playlist. Robby’s hand slides over her hip to her lower back, palm burning into her exposed skin. “You know, they played this at my senior prom.” He laughed thinking back to Barbra Wilson, his prom date, and the atrocious white tux she’d begged him to wear with the pink cumberbund and tie.

An exaggerated look of shock came to her face. “Wow, it’s amazing you can remember that far back.”

Robby rolled his eyes and huffed. “Ha ha ha. I’m not THAT old.” He insisted, though the feeling in his lower back was making him think otherwise.

A grin spread across her face as she spoke. “I wasn’t born when you went to your senior prom.”

His face dropped, hurt painting itself across his features for only a moment. “Okay ouch.”

“It’s okay,” She began, settling her lips close to his ear to whisper. “I won’t call you a cradle robber if you don’t call me a grave robber.”

The air in his lungs stopped moving. Slowly his face turned, so easily their lips could have slotted together. If only the universe didn’t enjoy his misery. It’s Jack Abbot’s voice that breaks the fantasy. “You guys are here too? I thought I got roped in because you guys wouldn’t come.” He’s shoving a crab cake into his mouth as he speaks, a second still in his hand.

“What are you doing over here?” Robby asks, reluctantly pulling his hands from Y/N’s body.

Abbot eyes him then shrugs. “Gloria called me and it sounded more like a threat than an invitation so I came.”

As if to speak her being into existence, Gloria strides toward the three of them. The look of horror etched into her face growing deeper the closer she gets “You’re in your scrubs?” Her question stressed through gritted teeth.

Again Jack shrugs. “You’re the one who told me to get here ASAP. To me ASAP doesn’t involve changing.”

Her muscles tense a moment, eyes closing as she lets out a slow breath to calm herself. “Just go.” She breathes again, now turning toward the pair appropriately dressed for the event. “Robby, Y/N, I need you to come tell some people about the idea you had for chairs.”

Robby frowns, “The one you shot down 2 weeks ago?”

Gloria gives an exasperated sigh.“Yes. Let’s go.”

The two followed Gloria to a small group of unfamiliar faces and it’s nearly an hour and a half before they find themselves back in their seats, both well into their third glass of champagne, skin prickling with hope. They’d seemed interested in their idea. Their interest had sparked interest in Gloria and hope filled their chests. Maybe this would help, maybe tonight would actually make a difference. Y/N let her head drop to Robby’s shoulder, eyes closing as a new melody floated through the air. She sighed. “I love this song.”

Robby nudged her head from his shoulder and stood, holding his hand out to her. “Come on, I think my old bone have one last dance left in ‘em.”

She smiled, slowly rising from her chair and the pair made their way back onto the dance floor, now even less crowded than it had been earlier, and resumed their earlier positon swaying to Coldplay’s Yellow. Their body’s were pressed closer than they had been before; looking Robby up and down she huffed a small chuckle. “Why don't you dress like this more often? I could get used to this look.”

Robby laughed aloud, pulling her even closer to his chest. “Oh yeah I’ll just start running around doing intubations and chest tubes and shit in a shirt and tie. Hey maybe I’ll even wear suspenders and a white coat like that one guy you keep telling me I look so much like from your show.”

Her eyes grow wide, hands coming to gently slap against Michael’s chest.“Oh my God that guy from ER!” She exclaims. “I used to love that show. When I was growing up my mom and I watched it religiously. Dr. John Carter.” She looks at Robby wistfully. “Probably the reason I dated so many doctors in my youth.”

Again, he can’t help but laugh. “Your youth, as if you’re not currently young.”

“I’m 31, that’s the ancient for women didn’t you know? I’m half way in the grave.” She attempts to make her statement sound matter of fact though she’s hardly able to hold back her grin.

“Well I think you’re incredibly beautiful for being half dead.” Robby’s voice is soft, and her shoulders relax as she places her head against him. The space between them is quiet for a moment before his soft voice speaks again. “Is that what made you want to get into the medical field?”

“What?” She’d been lost in her own world, a fantasy where this was more than colleagues, more than friends. Just more.

“ER. With your mom?”

“Oh! No. Well not because of ER but because of my mom.” She takes a quarter step back, giving herself space, removing herself from the fantasy. “ When I was like 11 my mom got really sick and we spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was wrong. We were in hospitals all the time. I watched the nurses work really hard to make sure even if they couldn’t fix my mom they were doing everything the could to help. It left an impression on me now here I am 20 years later.”

“Did they ever find out what was wrong with her? Your mom?” His questions aren’t pushy or probative, they’re genuine, questions he wants to hear real answers to.

She nodded. “MS. But because her doctor didn’t want to run a test in the beginning it took them 10 years to figure it out and by then the window of relapsing remitting had passed and she’d moved into secondary progressive. She got really bad about 3 years ago then 8 months ago she died.”

Robby closes the gap, pulling her close against him again, both arms wrapping around her tightly. He adores his mother even at 50 years old he can’t imagine what it will be like when he loses her. “I’m so sorry.”

She smiles softly, her eyes dampening with a few tears. “Thank you. It’s why I’m here really. I needed to move. I needed to be somewhere different.”

“It might be bad to say but, under any circumstances, I’m glad you’re here.” Robby brings his hand to her face, his thumb wiping gently at a small shed tear. But she smiles.

“It might be bad to say, but Me too.” She once again rests her head against him as they sway through the last notes of the song and into the next, then the next and before they realize it the room has become close to empty and they begin to take their leave. Again Robby gives her his arm as they cross the street but he doesn’t let go once they’re standing on hospital property, not when they walk into the building, through to the parking garage. Not even when they’re standing beside her car.

Leaning up against the driver’s side door, Y/N fiddled with her keys. “Do you need a ride?”

Robby shook his head. “Nah I left my backpack inside and I’m like half a block away so I’ll make it.”

She nodded, her voice still low. “Well thank you for walking me all the way to my car.”

“Of course.” The air between them grew thick, Michael lifted his hand placing his palm against her jaw, thumb smoothing over her heating cheek. Staring deeply into her eyes he spoke hardly above a whisper. “It might be the champagne hitting me but God, I want to kiss you right now.”

“Maybe you should.” The words tumbled from her lips before she could think.

“Please don’t tease me.” He begged.

“From here you’re the one thats teasing.” That as all it took before Micheal Robinavitch was leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. A soft, tender, electrifying kiss turning into one of need and passion. Her hands gripped tightly to his lapel. The satin slick against her fingers as she pulled him closer. So much closer. Melting into his body as Robby wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her tightly against him and their lips and hearts synched and all the pieces around them began shifting into place.

A cough across the parking lot pulls their lips apart but they stay connected. Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, breath shaky. Y/N whispers. “I should head home. My shift starts at six.”

Micheal nods, not pulling away from her. “Mines seven.”

Still connected she smiles, pressing a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow Doctor Robinavitch.”

He sighs. “Michael.”

“Michael.” For the first time in years prefers the sound of his name over Robby.

“Say it again.” He pleads

“Goodnight Michael.” She places another slow and tender kiss to his lips before finally pulling away and moving to get into her car.

“Goodnight Y/N.” The grin he keeps trying to hide is painted with her lipstick. He steps back, watching her drive away then leans up against the wall. Calming himself for nearly ten minutes after she’s driven away before he can walk back into the Pitt, before he can face his friend because Jack Abbot will know something has happened and he’s no ready to field those questions. Not when all he can think about is her.

It’s nearly five hours into their shift when a small group finds themselves standing at the desk, looking at the board. It’s McKay who speaks up first. “Has anyone else noticed how… chipper those two are?” Her eyes finding Robby and Y/N standing down the hall way, smiling brightly as they speak.

Princess nods. “Y/N has been humming the same song all morning.”

“Robby too.” Frank adds “It kinda sounded like Yellow by Coldplay but I didn’t think he listened to anything from this century.”

“That’s what I thought I heard from Y/N.” Javadi adds, hand up blocking the light from her still sensitive eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone with her mom the night before, or maybe she just shouldn’t have had so much champagne. Then her eyes grow wide, looking around the small group. “You don’t think they…?” Her question trailing off.

Perlah’s face breaks out into a grin, pure joy radiation from her face. “Oh for sure.”

Santos scrunches her noise, sending a dirty look to the nurse across the desk. “Well no collection until confirmation Perlah. I’m still holding out for his surprise party next month.”

Just then Y/N pops up beside them. “Keep it down about the party damn it!”

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voicemailfromluke-beep · 22 days ago

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golden hour.

req: yes | 💬 fia girlie! i've followed you over to this blog finally! would you be open to writing a smitty fic with a plus size reader? maybe something where they go to a sharks gala to like hard launch their relationship and he fully shows her off and loves on her like all night? if you have time babes and are open to writing it! no pressure tho!

pair: will smith x f!reader ; will smith x mid/plus-size!reader

genre: fluff, romance, real-world au.

warnings: pure fluff, minor self-esteem/body image themes handled positively, public affection, protective boyfriend energy, tooth-rotting levels of love.

summary: you’ve only been dating will for six months, but tonight marks a milestone, it was your first public appearance together at the team’s annual charity gala. will’s been bragging about you to his teammates for months, but now it’s time for the hard launch. you’re nervous, but will? he’s absolutely thrilled to show you off. and when you step into that ballroom, it becomes crystal clear that he’s not holding anything back. not when it comes to loving you.

🍅’s note: the moment i saw this request, i was so ready, like i couldn’t even wait. i had to start working on it immediately because duh, smitty hard-launching us is literally everything i need. let me stay delulu in peace again and again.

“smitty, do i look okay?”

will turns around mid-buttoning his tux jacket and freezes. his lips part like he’s about to say something, but then he just stares. and stares.

“hello?” you ask, smoothing your dress nervously. “earth to smitty?”

he stares.

and then keeps staring.

you fidget, smoothing the fabric of your floor-length dress, fingers brushing over the curve of your hip, the cinched waist, the soft flutter of the sleeves.

“okay, seriously,” you say, laughing nervously, “you’re scaring me.”

he crosses the room in slow motion, tux half-done, bowtie forgotten, eyes locked on you like he’s just seen the moon for the first time.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice low. “but holy shit babe.”

“you look…” his voice cracks. he clears his throat and tries again.

his hands land gently at your sides.

“you look so good i think i forgot how to blink.”

you roll your eyes, blushing despite yourself.

“you’re such a cornball.”

“and you’re unreal.”

he tugs you closer, dipping his head until your foreheads touch.

“like… are you kidding me? you look like someone painted you.”

“okay, now you’re laying it on thick,” your cheeks burning.

he leans back just enough to look at you again.

“thick is my favorite. did i not make that clear?”

you burst out laughing.

will grins, proud of himself. then softer, almost reverently.

“you’re stunning. you always are, but tonight? i’m not gonna stop touching you. everyone’s gonna have to deal.”

the gala is held at an upscale downtown hotel. you step out of the car in heels you only half-regret wearing, and will, true to his word, never lets go of your hand.

you barely get ten steps inside the ballroom before tyler toffoli spots you.

“there she is,” toff says, holding a drink and smiling wide.

“we thought will was making you up. showed us pictures like a proud dad with a costco-sized wallet. finally get to meet the mystery woman in person.”

you laugh. “hopefully i live up to the hype.”

“no offense, but you’re way cooler than we expected,” toff says, eyes glinting.

“he talks about you constantly.”

“he loves you,”

macklin celebrini adds, appearing behind toff with a goofy grin.

“it’s actually kind of gross. but, like, in a good way?”

you blink, a little overwhelmed by the warm welcome.

will slides an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

“i told you,” he whispers.

“they’d love you.”

at your table, you sit between will and macklin. across from you are eklund, zetterlund, and a couple of their partners. everyone’s laughing, drinking, picking at their appetizers, but will?

will can’t stop looking at you.

like, physically incapable.

when your hand reaches for your water glass, he covers it with his for a second just to feel your skin.

when you excuse yourself to go to the restroom, he watches you walk away like you’ve taken his entire soul with you.

“she’s gonna be gone for maybe five minutes,” eklund teases.

“relax.”

“i am relaxed,” will lies, adjusting his tie.

“this is my relaxed face.”

macklin whistles. “you’re gone, smitty.”

“absolutely,” will says without hesitation.

“i’d marry her tomorrow if she asked.”

you come back to find will in the middle of describing your homemade lasagna like it’s the eighth wonder of the world.

“i took one bite,” he says seriously,

“and i... i blacked out. when i woke up, i’d done all the dishes and made a playlist called ‘songs that remind me of her.’”

everyone laughs. you shake your head and sit beside him again.

“stop exposing me,” you whisper.

will leans in against your ear. “never. you’re my favorite subject.”

midway through dinner, will clinks his fork against his glass. not loud, but enough to get attention at your table.

“i just wanna say something real quick,” he says, tugging you a little closer to his side.

“i’ve had the best season of my life so far. on the ice, yeah, it’s been amazing. but off the ice? it’s because of her.”

your eyes go wide. “will—”

“she’s smart, she’s funny, she makes the best mac and cheese i’ve ever tasted, sorry, mom, and she loves me even when i forget to change my skate guards before walking across the tile.”

a couple guys snicker. will doesn’t stop.

“i don’t care if this sounds dramatic, but i must’ve saved the whole world in a past life to end up with her in this one.” his voice dips softer.

“she’s everything.”

there’s a beat of stunned silence.

“goddamn, smith,” zetterlund mutters.

“yeah,” toff agrees.

“can’t even roast you after that.”

will beams. “good. that was the goal.”

you cover your face with your hands, overwhelmed and flushed and grinning so hard it hurts. will pulls your hands down gently so he can kiss your cheek.

“you okay?” he whispers.

you nod. “you’re insane.”

“i know,” he said.

“for you? i’d go feral.”

when the night is more calm and champagne is traded for slow dancing, you sway with will on the dance floor, his hands warm and secure around your waist, his smile soft and a little sleepy.

“you know,” he says into your hair, “this wasn’t just a hard launch.”

“no?”

“this was me telling the world,” he says, voice low, “you belong next to me. always.”

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lazysoulwriter · 27 days ago

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after midnight in cannes - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x reader, Cannes afterparty setting, Lux Pascal is your glamorous bestie-in-law, flirty vibes, power couple energy, soft affection in a glamorous world.

---

The music was soft and strange — French disco meets ambient strings — but the drinks were perfect, the terrace smelled like sea salt and perfume, and Pedro had his hand on the back of your bare waist like he was afraid you’d disappear into the crowd of sequins and smoke.

Cannes at night felt like a dream.

Lux was a vision — sleek black dress, wet-look hair, red lips. She clinked her champagne glass with yours as you both leaned against the railing, laughing about someone’s terrible tux choice.

“He looks like a waiter at an alien wedding,” she whispered, and you snorted.

Pedro turned around from his conversation and locked eyes with you, immediately smiling like he hadn’t just been talking about industry things. Like you were the only person worth turning back to.

“There she is,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around your waist, chin hooking over your shoulder. “What are we laughing about?”

“Just fashion crimes,” you said, tilting your head to kiss his jaw. “Nothing that concerns you, Mr. Pascal.”

“Good,” he chuckled, eyes half-lidded with wine and affection. “Because I’m far too busy being the luckiest man here.”

Lux fake-gagged. “Okay, lovebirds. Don’t make me third-wheel and sober tonight.”

Pedro lifted an eyebrow. “We said we’d get you a tequila. Don’t play the martyr.”

Lux pointed her manicured finger. “I want the fancy French one. None of that American crap.”

You raised your glass. “To French tequila, then.”

“To French tequila,” they echoed, and all three of you toasted, laughing under the twinkle lights.

Later in the night, you and Pedro were sitting on a velvet couch, his blazer draped over your legs, your heels kicked off. You were tipsy, glowing, resting your head on his shoulder while he ran soft fingers through your hair.

“I like seeing you like this,” he murmured.

“Like what?”

“Confident. Sparkling. Untouchable.”

You smiled. “You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Correction: you belong here. I just get to orbit around you.”

You laughed softly, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love,” he corrected. “Lux agrees.”

“She does have good taste.”

Pedro kissed your temple. “Let’s stay like this a little longer.”

You nodded, closing your eyes, the sound of waves and music folding around you. Pedro’s hand found yours.

Cannes could sparkle all it wanted — but the soft, steady heat of him beside you outshone it all.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months ago

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i hate the way i don't hate you

for @steddielovemonth inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You

rated m | 2571 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: inspired by 10 things i hate about you but it's so short so keep that in mind, enemies to friends to lovers, time skips, getting together, falling in love, modern au

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

“Let me get this straight: you asked him out as part of a bet.”

“Mhm.”

“Because he’s insufferable and everyone in your little misfit group decided it would be funny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And your plan was to stand him up at prom so he would know how it feels to be heartbroken.”

“In a nutshell.”

“And then you fell in love with him.”

Eddie blinks at Robin, who looks like she might kill him with her bare hands. Honestly, he deserves it. He kinda hopes she makes him suffer.

“All signs point to yes,” he says.

She sighs. And then she sits down. And then sighs again.

“This is absolutely bullshit, you know that right?” She finally asks. “Steve’s a good person. He never deserved to be treated like his feelings don’t matter.”

“I know. And I should’ve known that from the beginning.”

“You fucked this up. He’s gonna hate you.”

Eddie knows that’s a good possibility. He hopes Steve is forgiving, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to ask him to be.

“If he does, I deserve it. But I came to you because I couldn’t lie anymore,” Eddie knows his reputation with his friends is on the line. He doesn’t care. “I’m gonna talk to him tonight and let him make his own decision.”

“You’re gonna tell him the day of prom that his prom date is an asshole?” Robin stands up again. “You’re gonna ruin his senior prom.”

“I’m ruining it either way. People are gonna tell him about it at prom if I don’t tell him before,” Eddie argues. “He deserves to hear it from me.”

“He deserves to not be a circus act,” Robin says, but nods. “Make sure you return your tux tomorrow. His card will get charged a penalty if it’s late.”

Eddie doesn’t tell her he already returned the tux. He figures it’s probably not the time.

He knows Steve won’t want to be near him after he tells him about the bet.

****

One month earlier

“You’d never land a guy like that anyway,” Gareth jokes. “Steve Harrington wouldn’t even glance your way let alone date you.”

“He’s so uptight, he’d laugh in your face if you even tried,” Frankie adds.

Eddie watches Steve carry Robin’s books to her locker so she can carry her trumpet case and science project.

“Wanna bet?”

****

Two weeks earlier

“You write music?” Steve asks as Eddie closes his notebook.

“I try,” Eddie smiles at him. “It’s not always good. It’s rarely good.”

“Could I hear some of it?”

“Maybe.” Eddie lights his cigarette, smirking around it as Steve’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. “Do you like metal?”

“I’ve never really listened to it,” Steve admits. “But I’d give it a shot if that’s what you wrote.”

“Come to my band’s show this weekend. I might play an original song as our encore,” Eddie says. “Might even dedicate it to you.”

The blush gets deeper.

****

The night before

“You know I used to wanna be an astronaut?” Steve says as he leans his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. “Still would if I was any good at math. I mean, I get by in class, but I’m in the easiest classes. Probably not astronaut material. Plus, I get seasick.”

Eddie laughs, something he’s done a lot with Steve. Something he never expected to be doing so much, actually.

“You could still work with NASA. Maybe you can’t go to space, but you could help people get there,” Eddie offers. “They’ve got plenty of people working in the office.”

“Yeah, but I think it would be hard to be so close, yet so far, ya know? Like I’m technically no closer to space there than I am right now. If anything, I’d be farther because I’d be stuck in a building, but here I’m with you,” Steve says simply.

Eddie leans his head on top of Steve’s, looking ahead instead of above.

His heart skips a beat when Steve’s hand rests on his knee.

“I’m glad I get to be here with you,” he says quietly.

Eddie swallows around another lie.

****

Present day

“Eddie! What’re you doing here?”

Eddie hates how excited Steve is to see him. It’s gonna make this so much harder.

His chest aches as he gives him a small, fake smile. Steve notices immediately because of course he does. Steve sees Eddie in ways his own friends don’t.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, and Eddie can hear it already in his tone, the way his body is rearing up for disappointment. Steve’s said it himself before: he’s always prepared for the other shoe to drop because everyone’s got two feet.

“Can we sit?”

“No. You can tell me whatever it is just like this.”

Eddie accepts it because arguing now isn’t going to help anything. Sitting or standing, Steve is going to be pissed at him.

“I can’t go to prom with you.”

Steve is looking at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean? Was something wrong with the tux? It’s not a big deal if you wanna go in jeans. I promise I was kidding about leaving you in a corner.”

Eddie gives an unamused laugh. “No, that’s- no. I lied to you. For over a month now. I only asked you out because my friends didn’t think you’d even talk to me, let alone agree to go to prom with me.”

Steve’s silence hurts almost as much as the tears that are gathering in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I ever even bet them that I could get you to go out with me. I’m sorry that sorry isn’t enough.”

Eddie can feel tears in his own eyes, but it’s not fair of him to cry. He caused this. He’s the reason Steve is upset. He shouldn’t get to be upset in front of him.

“Steven! The tux is pressed!” Steve’s mom yells from the front door. “Come inside so I can make sure the tailor got the sleeves right.”

Steve breathes in slowly before turning to his mom and telling her he’ll be in in a minute. He turns back to Eddie and sniffles.

“I guess I’ll see you at school.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. Really.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Steve walks into the house, leaves Eddie in the driveway.

****

Eddie paces his room.

There’s not a lot of space to do that, but he manages to wear a track in the carpet. Wayne will be home any minute asking him why he isn’t at the prom, why he isn’t with Steve.

Eddie will tell him and he’ll give him that same look he did when he told him about turning a kid away from Hellfire Club. It’s disappointment, and Eddie hates it.

The front door opens, Wayne’s footsteps echo to the kitchen while he puts away his ice pack and leftover containers from lunch, he pops open a can of beer, and then walks to Eddie’s room. He knocks on the door.

Eddie starts crying.

Wayne rushes into his room, sets his beer on the bedside table, and gathers Eddie into his arms.

“What’s goin’ on, son? Thought you’d be getting ready for your dance,” Wayne says, but it just makes Eddie cry harder.

Eventually, he calms down enough to explain.

Wayne keeps holding him because Wayne will always hold him, even when he’s disappointed in him.

“Well, he didn’t punch ya in the face,” Wayne finally says. “You apologized?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t matter. I still hurt him and he won’t forgive me.”

“You think you deserve to be forgiven?” He wasn’t asking meanly, just genuinely inquiring.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

If he’d asked earlier, he would’ve given a resounding ‘no.’ But he knows how sorry he is, and even though Steve probably never will forgive him, he does hope he will.

“If you’re really sorry, he’ll forgive ya,” Wayne settles on.

Eddie shakes his head, wipes his eyes and then his nose, frowning at the snot on his fingers. He wipes it on his shirt and falls back on his bed. Wayne laughs at him, pats his chest, and stands to leave.

“You could do something big for him,” Wayne suggests.

“Like what?”

“I dunno, you showed him that song you wrote about him yet?”

“I can’t show him that! Not now!”

“Why not? It’s about as big a declaration of love you can give.”

Eddie hates when Wayne’s right.

****

He gets Robin on board with bribery. A lot of it.

Money is definitely involved, more money than he really should spend, as well as his best weed (“it’s not for me!”) and free rides for the entire summer whenever she wants.

But she agrees to get Steve to The Hideout on Saturday night. She’s not good at lying, but she manages to tell a half-truth and Steve believes her.

Eddie’s a nervous wreck. His bandmates were read the riot act from him and from Wayne. They all apologized to Steve at school, though he didn’t really accept them.

It didn’t give Eddie much hope at all.

He’s doing it anyway.

Robin put in the effort of getting Steve here, so he’s gotta do it.

“You know ‘em and sometimes like ‘em just fine…Corroded Coffin!”

The guys all go on stage ahead of him when the crowd starts cheering. He takes one more deep breath and follows.

Gareth counts them in and they play.

It’s good, maybe one of their liveliest crowds yet. He can’t see many of the faces, but he knows Steve’s there. He saw Robin’s shirt when the lights dimmed between the first song and the second. She wouldn’t stay if Steve left.

Jeff introduces them after the third song like always, but pokes a little fun at Eddie.

“Sorry about our guitarist being a bit moody. He’s feeling deeply emotional about love,” Jeff starts the next song before Eddie can argue.

It’s a great show.

Everyone’s having fun, even Eddie.

But then the guys all sip on water and it’s Eddie’s turn to introduce his song. The song for Steve.

“Hey everyone,” Eddie starts, awkwardly. He’s not usually like this on stage. “Got a new song tonight. I wrote this for someone who I don’t deserve, but who I care about a lot. I know he’s mad and he should be. It may not fix anything, but I hope he knows that I mean every word.”

Gareth’s drums are soft for this one, just there to keep the beat with Frankie on the bass. Jeff moved out of the spotlight, still playing rhythm, but keeping the attention on Eddie while he sings.

He sings about falling for someone unexpected, wanting to create a love story better than Shakespeare. He sings about the boy who wanted to discover the stars, and the boy who wanted to hold his hand while he did. He sang about not knowing that he was capable of this kind of love, and wanting to have it forever.

When the song ends, the crowd claps, but they clearly aren’t here for the romantic ballad he just sang.

He lets Gareth count in for the next song and they go back to the loud, chest-thumping music they usually play.

He doesn’t see Robin anymore, and he decides then that if Steve left, he did everything he could for now. He can’t be more sorry than he is and he can’t force Steve to think more of him.

“Good show guys,” Jeff says as they tear down the stage. All of them are responsible for their own equipment, but they also help out the bar manager by unplugging the electrical and rolling the wires when they’re done. “And a great job on your song, Eddie.”

“Thanks,” Eddie gives him a small smile as he closes his guitar case. “Don’t know if it worked.”

“It did.”

Eddie turns at Steve’s voice, nearly falling over when he sees how good Steve looks. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and ripped jeans, something outside of his norm, probably trying to fit in with this crowd a bit. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“Steve.” Eddie isn’t sure who’s talking, but it must be him because Steve’s looking at him with shining eyes and the same smile he always gave him when he looked like he wanted to hold his hand. “You’re here.”

“Robin insisted,” Steve admits, stepping closer to Eddie. “But then I told her to head home so I could talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Steve’s mouth lifts in a smirk for a moment before he schools his features again.

“So you wrote that song for me?”

“Yeah. Is it too much?”

Steve steps closer again, only a few inches separating them now. He shakes his head. “Not too much, no. Maybe just enough.”

“Enough for you to forgive me?”

“I might be on the path of forgiveness.” Steve touches his chest, palm over his heart. “But can I ask you something?”

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

“What were you hoping to happen when you made the bet?”

Eddie has to think about that. Of all the things he’s thought about, this isn’t one of them.

Steve waits for him, though. He’s patient. One of the many amazing things about him.

“I think I just wanted to be right about you,” Eddie finally admits.

Steve nods once. “A lot of people wanna assume things about me because of who my friends were a couple years ago, and who my parents are, and how I always dress nice and act like a bitch. It’s easier to just think I’m a bad person than think I have any depth at all. Especially in high school. Even though most of us are adults now, no one really acts like it.”

“I’m extremely immature. You should probably know that if you’re gonna forgive me,” Eddie says.

“You’re not as immature as you pretend to be at school,” Steve smiles. “I’ve seen you, Ed. I know the bad boy against the grain guy isn’t all you are.”

“And I know there’s a lot more to you than your pretty face, though that’s a bonus.”

Steve kisses him and the guys all cheer for him. He’s laughing against Steve’s mouth, waving one hand at the guys to make them leave.

“Robin said you were crying when you told her,” Steve whispers against his mouth.

“She’s a traitor.”

“So you were?”

Eddie sighs. “Yes, I cried. I hated how much I knew it would hurt you to find out the truth.”

“You still have to make it up to me a little,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah? How?”

“Well, I remember something in the song about worshiping me on your knees? Or was that a weird religious reference?”

Eddie kisses Steve again, smiling so much that their teeth clack against each other almost painfully.

“I’m an atheist,” Eddie replies.

“We’ve got a long night ahead of us then, don’t we?”

Eddie groans. “I still have to help load all our stuff-”

“Dude. You were forgiven by a guy who definitely could find better than you. We can handle the stuff. Consider it more of an apology for us being dicks, too,” Jeff interrupts.

Steve grabs Eddie’s shirt and tugs him along. “I’m not gonna tell them I forgive them until tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” Eddie looks down at the way Steve’s ass fills out the jeans he’s in. “On second thought, maybe next week sometime.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie events #steddielovemonth #inspired by 10 things i hate about you #getting together #falling in love

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amethystarachnid · 3 months ago

Note

Hi I hope you're still accepting requests. I have a request for a Tony Stark x Fem reader - FORCED WEDDING. Their parents force them to get married for business stuff. Tony doesn't like Y/N at all but being a people pleaser, Y/N agrees to get married. Y/N is really nice to him and slowly starts catching feelings for him here and there (or maybe put a little flashback where Y/N liked him since the beginning or something like that) Being the reckless playboy that he is, he doesn't care about Y/N at all and and is very cold to her. (Some angst maybe) After a series of bad experiences like Tony not valuing Y/N or flirting with other women in front of her (or more), Y/N slowly loses hope and gets heart broken (but their parents don't care). Y/N decides to leave him for good and starts acting distant and cold. Y/N gets ready to leave and lead her own life but something really remarkable happens (you can make it whatever you want) and then Tony actually starts falling for Y/N. He regrets his behavior and tries to win Y/N back by doing his best. Obviously Y/N agrees after a lot of tries and they live happily ever after. (I hope it's not a boring storyline for you to write🫠)

You're a very good writer. So you know better. Make whatever changes necessary and add whatever you want but DO NOT INCLUDE PEPPER POTTS.😂 You can write it whenever you want. No rush at all. I just want you to bring this story to life. Thanks!💛

FORCED MARRIAGE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: angst, romance, little fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary:what the asks said lol

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a little spicy scene at the end

ᯓ★ Man, I seriously need to get better at giving titles to my stories...

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The weight of the diamond on your finger feels heavier than it should. You stare at it, twisting it slightly, watching how the light catches on the sharp edges. It doesn’t feel real, even though the band digs into your skin like a cruel reminder. You’ve dreamed of wearing Tony Stark’s ring before—many times, in fact—but never like this. Never with him sitting on the opposite end of the limousine, arms crossed, eyes focused on the flashing city outside rather than on his new wife.

You don’t expect him to look at you. He hasn’t since the ceremony. Not even when you said, “I do.”

The vows had been meaningless. Promises recited with the enthusiasm of a death sentence. His lips barely moved around the words. His eyes were flat, empty. You knew, standing at the altar in a pristine white dress, that this was just another transaction to him. Just another Stark Industries deal.

You try to ignore the sharp sting in your chest as you sneak a glance at him. He’s still dressed in his tux, but he’s already undone his bowtie, the top buttons of his shirt loosened. His posture is relaxed in the way that tells you he’d rather be anywhere but here. The silence stretches between you, suffocating.

“Are we going straight to the penthouse?” you ask softly, voice barely audible over the hum of the car. You’re not sure why you ask—he doesn’t care where you go.

Tony finally shifts, looking at you with disinterest. “Where else would we go?”

You swallow. He’s right. The honeymoon suite is waiting, though there will be no honeymoon. No whispered affections, no tender moments. Just the formality of sharing space with a man who resents you.

“I just—never mind,” you murmur, pressing your hands together.

A bitter smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind. This is a marriage, isn’t it? We should be able to talk.”

You hesitate. What’s the point? You know how he feels. He made it painfully clear the moment your parents arranged this.

“I was just trying to make conversation,” you admit.

Tony laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You don’t have to do that. We’re not friends.”

The words slice through you, but you force yourself to nod. “Right. Of course.”

The car slows, pulling up to the towering glass building that is now your home. Your stomach twists as the driver opens the door for you. Tony steps out first without offering a hand. You don’t expect him to. You step out carefully, clutching the fabric of your dress, and follow him into the lobby.

People stare. They recognize him. The famous Tony Stark. Billionaire, genius, playboy. Notorious for avoiding commitment. And yet, here he is, walking beside his new bride with all the enthusiasm of a man heading to his execution.

You step into the private elevator, the doors sliding shut behind you. The ride is silent. You steal another glance at him. His jaw is tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t look at you.

Finally, you reach the penthouse. The doors open with a soft chime, revealing the luxurious suite. It’s beautiful. Elegant. Expensive. But it feels cold.

Tony walks in first, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the nearest chair. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing like this is all a massive inconvenience. “You take the bedroom,” he says flatly. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

You blink. “But—”

He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable. “What? Did you actually think we’d be sharing a bed?”

“No,” you say quickly, even though the thought had crossed your mind. Not because you expected him to want you—but because you had hoped, foolishly, that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

Tony watches you for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t know why you agreed to this.”

You smile, but it’s forced. “Because it’s what our families wanted.”

“That’s bullshit.” His voice is sharp now, eyes narrowing. “You could’ve said no.”

And yet, he didn’t. He could’ve fought harder. He could’ve refused. But he didn’t. He let it happen, just like you did.

You look down at your hands. “I’m a people pleaser,” you say quietly. “It’s what I do.”

Tony scoffs, turning away. “That’s pathetic.”

The words sting, but you don’t react. You can’t. If you let yourself feel everything at once, you might break.

He walks toward the bar, pouring himself a drink. He doesn’t offer you one. You’re not surprised. You watch as he downs the whiskey in one go, then pours himself another.

“You don’t have to be so cruel,” you say softly.

Tony freezes. His grip tightens around the glass, and for a second, you think he might actually apologize. But then he laughs—low and humorless.

“Cruel?” He turns to face you, leaning against the counter. “I married you, didn’t I? That’s enough.”

You clench your hands into fists. “Is it?”

His eyes darken. “Don’t start acting like this is something it’s not. You knew what you were getting into.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t mean it has to be this miserable.”

Tony doesn’t answer. He just downs another drink before disappearing into the guest room, slamming the door behind him.

You’re alone. On your wedding night.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. You should’ve known. You did know. And yet, your heart still aches.

Because despite everything—despite his indifference, his resentment—you love him. You always have.

And now, you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who will never love you back.

---

The morning light filters through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, but it does little to warm the hollow feeling in your chest. You barely slept. Every time you closed your eyes, you were met with the image of Tony walking away from you, his words from last night echoing in your head.

"I don’t know why you agreed to this."

You don’t know why you thought today would be different.

When you step out of the bedroom, the penthouse is silent. For a second, you wonder if he even stayed the night. Maybe he went out. Maybe he found another way to escape this situation.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you head toward the kitchen. You move on autopilot, pulling out ingredients to make breakfast. Not because you expect Tony to appreciate it, but because it’s something to do. Something to ground you in this strange, unfamiliar reality.

The smell of fresh coffee fills the space, and you set two mugs on the counter—one for you, one for him, even though you know there’s a good chance he won’t take it. You try not to care.

The sound of footsteps makes you turn.

Tony walks in, looking as disheveled as ever, his hair messy, his shirt from last night still on, though wrinkled now. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he heads straight for the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

“Good morning,” you say cautiously.

He doesn’t look at you. “Sure.”

You wait, hoping he’ll say more. Maybe something about the night before. Maybe something—anything—to ease the tension between you. But he just leans against the counter, unscrewing the cap of the bottle.

“I made breakfast,” you offer, motioning toward the plates on the counter. Scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit. It’s simple, but it’s something.

Tony glances at it, then back at you. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

It’s a lie. You know it is. You’ve seen enough interviews, enough photos, enough snippets of his life to know that he does. But you don’t call him out on it.

“Right,” you murmur. “Well… it’s there if you change your mind.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a sip of water and walks toward the living room, already pulling out his phone, his attention elsewhere.

You watch him go, the lump in your throat growing heavier.

This is what your life is now.

You knew Tony wouldn’t love you. You knew he wouldn’t want this. But some naive, hopeless part of you thought maybe—just maybe—you could at least have something. A civil relationship. A fragile sort of companionship. But he won’t even give you that.

You sink into the chair, staring at your untouched breakfast, your appetite gone.

The rest of the day is just as cold.

Tony barely speaks to you. When he does, it’s short, dismissive. He spends most of the day locked in his office, working on something for Stark Industries. You stay out of his way, not wanting to push him, not wanting to make this harder than it already is.

You try to make the penthouse feel more like home, but it’s impossible when the man you’re supposed to share it with treats you like a stranger.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re exhausted—not from doing anything physically demanding, but from the emotional weight of it all. You sit on the couch, flipping through TV channels, but nothing holds your attention.

Tony finally emerges from his office, looking irritated as he checks his watch.

“I’m going out,” he announces.

You blink, turning to him. “Oh.”

You hesitate, debating whether or not to ask, Where? But you already know the answer.

He’s going to drink. He’s going to distract himself from this reality. Maybe he’s going to find someone else—someone who isn’t his wife.

Your stomach twists. “When will you be back?”

Tony sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t wait up.”

The door closes behind him.

And you are alone again.

—

Days turn into weeks, and nothing changes.

You try. You really do.

You greet him in the mornings. You make coffee. You attempt conversations over dinner—when he’s actually around for it. But every effort is met with indifference.

Tony treats you like you don’t exist. Like you’re just a piece of furniture in the penthouse. Like you’re nothing more than an obligation he was forced into.

He comes home late, smelling like alcohol and perfume. You don’t ask where he’s been. You don’t ask if he’s been with someone. You don’t want to hear the answer.

The worst part is, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

One night, he stumbles into the penthouse at nearly three in the morning. You’re still awake, curled up on the couch, waiting—though you don’t know why. Maybe because some part of you still clings to the idea that this marriage isn’t completely broken.

Tony barely acknowledges you as he kicks off his shoes, running a hand through his messy hair. His tie is gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“Did you have a good night?” you ask softly, the words tasting like poison on your tongue.

Tony scoffs, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the bar. “It was fine.”

You watch as he pours himself a drink, his movements slow and careless. Your hands tighten into fists.

“How long are you going to do this?” you whisper.

He pauses, looking at you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do what?”

“Pretend I don’t exist.”

Tony lets out a dry laugh. “I’m not pretending.”

The words hit you harder than you expect.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Tony—”

He raises a hand, cutting you off. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for this. We’re stuck. That’s it.”

You stare at him, your heart aching. “I just want—”

“What? A real marriage?” He scoffs. “That’s not going to happen.”

Your breath catches.

Tony shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink. “Go to bed, Y/N. Don’t wait up for me next time.”

He walks away, disappearing into his room.

You stay on the couch, staring at the empty glass he left behind.

You don’t cry. Not yet. You’ve spent too many nights crying yourself to sleep already.

But as the silence of the penthouse presses down on you, you realize something.

No matter how much love you have for Tony Stark—

He will never love you back.

---

The days blur into a cycle of indifference and quiet heartbreak. You’ve stopped trying to make breakfast for him. You don’t greet him in the mornings anymore. You don’t stay up waiting for him at night.

Not that he notices.

Tony spends most of his time at the office or out at events, playing the role of the charming billionaire, the playboy, the genius. To the rest of the world, nothing has changed. He’s still the same Tony Stark. The only difference is that now, he has a wife he never wanted.

And you?

You’re just existing in his world.

There are moments—fleeting, painful moments—where you think maybe he’ll soften, maybe he’ll acknowledge you in some way that doesn’t feel like a reminder of your worthlessness. But those moments never last.

Like the time you showed up at one of his galas.

Your presence wasn’t required. You knew that. Tony never invited you, never even mentioned it. But it was a Stark Industries event, and you were a Stark now, whether he liked it or not. So you dressed up, put on a brave face, and arrived with the hope that maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t ignore you for one night.

That hope didn’t last long.

The moment you stepped into the grand ballroom, you felt the weight of a hundred eyes on you. People whispered, curious about the woman who had somehow managed to tie Tony Stark down.

But Tony?

He didn’t even look at you.

He was in the center of the room, drink in hand, surrounded by people who hung onto his every word. His smile was dazzling, his laugh effortless.

And standing beside him was a woman—tall, blonde, stunning in a dress that clung to her body like a second skin.

You recognized her.

Vanessa Harper. A model, a socialite, someone Tony had been seen with more times than you could count before the wedding.

And the way he looked at her—

It was different.

His arm brushed against hers as he leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh. His hand skimmed her waist, subtle but intimate.

He didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to step forward. People greeted you, offering polite smiles and empty words, but your focus remained on him.

When you finally reached his side, your heart pounded in your chest. “Tony.”

He turned, finally noticing you. For a second, just a brief second, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Annoyance.

Then it was gone.

“Oh,” he said casually, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re here.”

Vanessa looked at you, then at Tony, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You didn’t mention your wife was coming tonight.”

Tony smirked. “Didn’t think it was important.”

The words cut deeper than they should have.

You forced a small smile, ignoring the way your chest tightened. “It’s a Stark Industries event. I thought I should be here.”

Tony hummed, as if he couldn’t care less. Then, just as easily as he had acknowledged you, he turned back to Vanessa.

And just like that, you were invisible again.

You stood there, hands clenched at your sides, as Tony continued to flirt with her right in front of you.

He laughed at her jokes, touched her arm, leaned in close like she was the only person in the room.

Like you weren’t his wife.

People were watching.

Whispers spread like wildfire, murmurs of pity and curiosity.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your nails dug into your palms as you forced yourself to step back. To turn around. To walk away before the humiliation consumed you.

You didn’t even make it out of the ballroom before the first tear slipped down your cheek.

—

You don’t wait for him that night.

When you get home, you strip out of your dress, wipe the makeup from your face, and curl up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You tell yourself you won’t cry. That it’s not worth it. That you knew this was coming.

But the tears come anyway.

Because it doesn’t matter how many times he hurts you, how many times he reminds you that you mean nothing to him—

You still love him.

And you hate yourself for it.

—

Tony doesn’t come home that night.

Or the night after.

You don’t ask where he is.

You already know.

---

The phone rings twice before your mother picks up.

“Y/N,” she greets, her voice smooth, controlled. Like nothing is wrong. Like she doesn’t know that you’re crumbling.

You’re already crying before you can speak. Silent tears slip down your face, your chest tight and aching. You’ve held it in for too long. You can’t anymore.

“Mom,” your voice cracks, “I can’t do this.”

A pause. Then a sigh. “Oh, sweetheart. What are you talking about?”

You grip the phone tighter, your fingers trembling. “This marriage,” you whisper. “It’s killing me.”

She says nothing. You hear the faint clink of a teacup being set down, the rustle of fabric. Then:

“Don’t be dramatic.”

You let out a choked laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this. “Dramatic?” you repeat. “Mom, he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me. He treats me like I don’t exist.”

Another sigh, this time more impatient. “Y/N, you knew what this was when you agreed to it.”

“I—” You shake your head, pressing your fingers against your forehead. “I thought it would be different. I thought maybe we could at least—” Your breath hitches. “I thought maybe he would respect me.”

Your father’s voice cuts in this time, deep and firm. “Respect is earned, Y/N. You knew marrying into the Stark family was a business decision, not a fairytale.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I don’t care about business,” you whisper. “I just wanted to be happy.”

“Happiness is a luxury,” he says. “You have power now. Wealth. Influence. You’re part of something bigger than yourself.”

“I don’t care about any of that!” you cry, gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turn white. “I’m miserable! I can’t live like this! I want to leave, I want a divorce—”

“Absolutely not.” Your mother’s voice is sharp now, cold.

Your breath catches. “Mom—”

“You will not humiliate us,” she says. “Do you have any idea how much is at stake? Do you think you can just walk away because your feelings are hurt?”

Your stomach twists. “It’s not just my feelings—”

“You’re our daughter, Y/N, but you’re also part of an empire now,” your father interrupts. “And empires don’t crumble over foolish emotions.”

Your lips tremble. “You don’t care,” you whisper. “You don’t care that I’m suffering.”

Silence.

Then your mother says, “You’ll learn to live with it.”

A single tear slips down your cheek.

You nod, even though they can’t see you. “I understand.”

You hang up.

And then you shatter.

You sob into your hands, curling in on yourself. You were foolish to think they’d care. Foolish to think they’d choose you over money, over power, over their damn industry.

You have no one.

Not Tony. Not your parents.

No one.

—

That’s the moment you decide.

You’re done.

Done crying. Done trying. Done hoping for something that will never come.

If Tony doesn’t want you—if your own parents don’t care about you—then fine. You’ll stop caring, too.

—

The change is immediate.

You stop waiting for Tony to come home. You stop caring where he goes or who he’s with. You don’t set the table for two anymore. You don’t check his schedule to see if he’ll be at dinner.

You become distant. Cold. Detached.

And for the first time since your wedding, Tony notices.

At first, he seems relieved. Like your silence is a gift, like he’s finally free of your presence.

But then the days pass, and the atmosphere shifts.

You don’t speak to him unless necessary. When he walks into the penthouse, you barely look at him. When he makes coffee in the morning, you don’t acknowledge him.

You become a ghost in your own home.

And Tony—Tony doesn’t like it.

One night, he comes home late, as usual. You’re in the bedroom, brushing your hair in front of the mirror, your face blank, your eyes lifeless.

He leans against the doorway, watching you.

You ignore him.

Finally, he says, “You haven’t been nagging me lately.”

You meet his gaze in the mirror, but there’s no emotion in your eyes. “I guess I realized it’s pointless.”

Something flickers across his face. He opens his mouth, then closes it.

For the first time, he looks… unsettled.

But you don’t care. Not anymore.

---

You move through the penthouse like a ghost, your presence barely noticeable, your emotions locked away. The woman who once tried to love Tony Stark—the woman who once waited up for him, made his coffee, and longed for a shred of warmth—is gone.

In her place is someone colder, someone who has finally accepted the truth.

There is no marriage here. There is no love.

And now, there won’t even be a contract to bind you to him anymore.

The divorce papers sit on the dining table, neatly stacked, waiting. You’ve spent the last few weeks preparing for this moment. Meeting with lawyers in secret. Finding a new place to stay. Ignoring your parents’ warnings that leaving this marriage would be a disaster for them.

You don’t care anymore.

You refuse to live like this—trapped, invisible, unwanted.

So you’re leaving.

No matter what it costs.

—

Tony doesn’t notice right away.

He still moves through his routine like nothing has changed. He still stays out late, still acts like your presence is an afterthought. But you see the tiny moments of confusion. The flicker of frustration when you don’t react to his usual carelessness.

It’s almost funny.

He spent months acting like he didn’t want you, and now that you’ve given up, he’s irritated by it.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting out.

—

The night you decide to tell him, it’s raining. The penthouse is dimly lit, the sound of the storm echoing through the large windows. You sit in the living room, the divorce papers on the coffee table in front of you, waiting for him.

When he finally walks in, he barely glances your way. He tosses his keys onto the counter, shrugs off his jacket, and heads toward the bar to pour himself a drink.

“Tony.”

Your voice is calm. Steady.

He pauses, glass in hand, before finally looking at you.

You gesture to the papers. “We need to talk.”

His eyes flicker to the stack of documents, then back to you. A slow exhale leaves his lips. He already knows.

Still, he walks over, setting his glass down beside the papers. He picks them up, flips through them lazily, and then—

He laughs.

A low, bitter chuckle, like this is some kind of joke.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters.

You don’t react. “I’m leaving, Tony.”

He sets the papers down, his jaw tightening. “You think I’m just going to sign this?”

You lift your chin, meeting his gaze. “Yes.”

His eyes darken. “No.”

A small, humorless smile tugs at your lips. “You don’t get a say in this.”

His fingers drum against the table, slow and deliberate. “You married me. That’s a commitment, sweetheart.”

You flinch at the nickname, at the false sweetness in his tone. He’s never called you that before. Not in affection. Not in anything real.

“You don’t even want me here,” you say, voice hollow. “You never did.”

Something flashes across his face—something unreadable. But then he scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then you reach forward, grab the pen beside the papers, and slide them toward him.

“Sign them.”

He doesn’t move.

Your fingers tighten around the pen. “Tony.”

His jaw clenches. “No.”

You swallow. “Why not?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and for a second—just a second—you think he might actually say something real.

But then he smirks, that same arrogant, careless smirk he’s always worn. “Because I don’t like losing.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “This isn’t a game.”

“It’s always a game,” he counters.

Your throat tightens. He’s doing this on purpose—pushing, prodding, trying to get a reaction. Because if there’s one thing Tony Stark hates, it’s losing control.

But you won’t play his game anymore.

So you stand. “I’m done, Tony.”

He watches you, his expression unreadable as you turn away.

“You walk out that door, and you’re on your own,” he says.

You pause.

Then, without looking back, you whisper, “I always was.”

And then you leave.

—

The streets are slick with rain as you drive through the city, your mind racing.

You should feel relieved.

You’re finally free.

But your chest aches, your hands tremble against the wheel, and for some reason, your eyes won’t stop burning.

Why?

Why does it still hurt?

Why does some stupid, broken part of you still wish he would have stopped you?

You take a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. No. You won’t think like that. You won’t let him have that power over you anymore.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to call a hotel or go to your new apartment—

The headlights come out of nowhere.

A blaring horn.

Screeching tires.

The impact is instant.

The world spins, glass shatters, pain explodes through your body—

And then everything fades to black.

—

Tony is still staring at the divorce papers when the call comes.

His phone buzzes on the counter, and for a moment, he considers ignoring it. But then he sees the number.

Unknown.

Something uneasy twists in his stomach.

He answers.

“Mr. Stark?” a voice asks. “We need you to come to Metro General. Your wife has been in an accident.”

Tony’s breath catches.

“What?”

“She was in a car crash. It’s serious.”

His grip tightens on the phone.

“She’s in a coma.”

---

The hospital room is too quiet.

Too still.

Tony sits beside your bed, hands clasped together, eyes fixed on your unmoving form. There are too many machines. Too many wires. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only reassurance that you’re still here, still breathing.

You’ve been like this for days.

And Tony has never felt more helpless.

He’s seen destruction. He’s seen death. He’s cheated both more times than he can count. But nothing—nothing—prepared him for this.

For the unbearable stillness of you.

For the crushing weight of regret pressing against his ribs, suffocating him.

The doctor’s words keep playing in his head.

“She’s stable, but we don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

If she’ll wake up.

Tony grits his teeth, gripping the armrests of his chair. No. He won’t think like that.

He won’t lose you.

Even if he never deserved you to begin with.

—

The first night, he doesn’t leave the hospital.

The second night, he cancels all his meetings, ignores every call, and stays right where he is—beside you.

By the third night, he realizes something terrifying.

He can’t lose you.

Not just because of guilt.

Not just because of regret.

But because somewhere, in the mess of this forced marriage, between the cold words and cruel indifference—

He started to fall for you.

And he was too much of a coward to see it until now.

—

He doesn’t know when it happens.

Maybe it was the way you always looked at him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Maybe it was the way you tried—really tried—to make this work, to reach for him, even when he pushed you away.

Or maybe it was the way you stopped.

The moment you went cold, the moment you gave up on him—on this—something inside him cracked.

He just didn’t understand it then.

But he understands now.

And he’s going to fix it.

—

When you wake up, your entire body aches.

Your vision is blurry, your throat dry, and for a moment, everything feels unreal. Like you’re floating between dreams and reality.

Then you hear a voice.

“Y/N?”

You blink. Slowly, your eyes adjust, and then—

Tony.

He looks exhausted. His hair is a mess, his clothes are wrinkled, and there are dark circles under his eyes. But none of that matters because the look on his face—

You’ve never seen it before.

Relief.

Genuine, overwhelming relief.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

You try to speak, but your throat burns. He notices immediately, grabbing a cup of water and helping you drink. His hands are gentle, careful, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

You clear your throat. “What… happened?”

His jaw tightens. “Car accident. You’ve been in a coma for five days.”

Five days.

You inhale sharply, memories crashing into you all at once. The rain. The headlights. The impact.

Leaving Tony.

The divorce.

You shift slightly, ignoring the pain that shoots through your body. “The papers—”

“Forget the papers,” Tony cuts in.

You frown. “Tony—”

“No,” he says, firmer this time. “You almost died, Y/N.”

You swallow, looking away. “I know.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I—” He hesitates. “I screwed up.”

You close your eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper. “You did.”

There’s a long silence. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his gaze on you—heavy, uncertain.

Finally, he speaks. “Give me a month.”

You blink, turning your head toward him. “What?”

He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. “One month,” he repeats. “Let me fix this. Let me prove that this marriage doesn’t have to end like this.”

Your heart clenches. “Tony—”

“If, after a month, you still want to leave,” he says, voice quieter now, “I’ll sign the papers.”

You stare at him. “You don’t want the divorce.”

His eyes meet yours, raw and open in a way you’ve never seen before. “No,” he admits. “I don’t.”

Your throat tightens. A part of you wants to laugh at the irony. The moment you stop chasing him is the moment he decides to chase you.

But another part of you—one you’re not ready to acknowledge—wants to believe him.

Wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t over.

You inhale slowly. “One month,” you say.

Tony nods.

Your lips press together. “Then you sign the papers.”

His jaw clenches, but he nods again. “Then I sign the papers.”

You look away, staring at the ceiling.

One month.

You don’t know if that’s enough time to change anything.

But for some reason, for the first time in a long time—

You think you want it to be.

---

Tony doesn’t waste any time.

The very next morning, he’s already in your hospital room before you’ve even properly woken up, holding a cup of coffee that he shoves into your hands before you can protest.

“I bribed a nurse for it,” he says, sitting down in the chair beside your bed.

You eye him warily. “Isn’t there a rule against giving caffeine to patients?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But I figured you could use it.”

You hesitate, then take a small sip. It’s perfect—exactly how you like it. The realization makes your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the cup.

Tony leans back in his chair, watching you. “So, uh… how are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

His jaw tightens. “Yeah.” He looks down, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I, uh… I did some reading. About recovery. Apparently, physical therapy helps a lot.”

You blink at him. “You did research?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. “I might have gone down a rabbit hole.”

The mental image of Tony Stark, billionaire genius, spending hours reading about post-accident recovery makes something in your chest ache.

You push the feeling down.

Before you can respond, there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse steps in with breakfast.

Tony moves quickly, taking the tray from her before she can set it down. “I got it, thanks.”

The nurse gives you a knowing smile before leaving.

You glance at Tony. “What are you doing?”

“Being a good husband,” he says, setting the tray on your lap.

You stare at him. “Since when?”

Tony meets your gaze, something serious flickering in his eyes. “Since now.”

—

The next few days are… different.

Tony is there. All the time.

He brings you coffee every morning. He helps adjust your pillows when you shift uncomfortably. He stays up late when you can’t sleep, talking to you about everything and nothing.

It’s strange.

You don’t know what to do with this version of him. The one who suddenly cares.

And part of you doesn’t trust it.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask one night, after he’s helped you walk across the room for the third time that day.

Tony looks at you, and for once, there’s no sarcasm, no bravado—just quiet honesty.

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he admits.

Your heart stutters.

You don’t respond.

You can’t.

—

When you’re finally discharged, Tony insists on taking you home himself.

You sit stiffly in the car, staring out the window as he drives.

“I was thinking,” he says after a while, “you should come with me to a gala next weekend.”

You frown, turning to him. “A gala?”

“Yeah.” He glances at you. “It’s one of those boring business events, but I figured it might be good for you to get out, you know? See people.”

You arch an eyebrow. “See people? Or let them see that we’re still married?”

Tony’s grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel. “It’s not like that.”

You scoff. “Sure.”

He sighs, glancing at you again. “Y/N, come on. It’ll be fun.”

You stare at him. “Fun?”

“Well, as fun as these things can be.” He smirks. “Plus, you’ll get to see me in a suit. I know you secretly like that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, “you’re still here.”

For now.

But he doesn’t say that.

And neither do you.

---

The gala is everything Tony warned you it would be: crowded, extravagant, and loud.

The lights are blinding, the conversations blur into a cacophony, and the air feels thick with wealth and power.

You're used to this world. You grew up in it, surrounded by the glittering faces and the endless speeches about success and influence. But tonight, it feels different. Tonight, you feel like an outsider.

Tony stands beside you, his hand lightly placed on the small of your back, guiding you through the sea of well-dressed guests. His presence is the only thing keeping you grounded, and you can't help but feel the weight of his attention on you.

His hand stays there, warm and reassuring, but it's more than just that. His touch—his whole demeanor—is… different.

Gone is the usual cocky, sarcastic Tony Stark. Gone is the man who would flirt with anything that moved and ignore you in favor of his latest conquest.

Tonight, Tony’s focus is entirely on you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low, as if he's genuinely concerned about how you’re holding up.

You glance up at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. "I'm fine," you answer, though you're not sure if you believe it yourself.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken. "You sure?"

"Yeah," you reply, offering him a smile. "Just not a big fan of crowds."

"I get that," he says, his hand giving your back a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't let go.

You both make your way through the room, and the murmurs of the guests around you grow louder. It’s clear they’re talking about you—about your marriage, about how strange it is to see you with Tony, considering the stories they’ve heard.

But Tony? He’s not listening to any of them.

Every time someone tries to engage with him, he brushes them off politely, always redirecting the conversation back to you. He’s unusually attentive, asking you questions, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you feel seen in a room full of people who likely don’t even know your name.

It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see.

And it's almost making you second-guess everything you thought you knew about him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asks after a few minutes, his hand still lingering on your waist.

You shake your head. "I'm okay."

He nods, looking pleased that you didn’t need anything, but he still seems restless. It’s as if he’s determined to prove something to you, or maybe prove something to himself.

You wonder if he’s thinking about the same things.

Just as you’re about to speak, you see her.

Vanessa.

A striking woman, tall, elegant, with a platinum blonde updo and a smile that could melt ice. You’ve met her before—at one of Tony’s events—but tonight she’s practically glowing in her dress, her eyes immediately locking on Tony when she sees him.

And you know the look she gives him. It’s the same one she’s given him every time they’ve crossed paths. The one that says she wants him, and she wants him now.

Tony notices her at the same time you do, but this time, his reaction is nothing like it used to be.

Instead of leaning in, making a joke, or greeting her with a flirtatious smile, Tony straightens. He subtly adjusts his posture, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

Vanessa approaches them, a smirk already playing at her lips. "Tony," she says, her voice smooth as silk. "It's been too long."

"Vanessa," Tony replies, his voice distant, cool.

You can feel the tension in the air. You can see it in the way Tony’s jaw clenches, in the way his eyes stay locked on Vanessa but refuse to soften.

And you realize, with a jolt, that Tony isn’t just ignoring Vanessa—he’s actively pushing her away.

"How’ve you been?" she asks, her eyes flickering to you for a moment, before settling back on Tony.

"I’m good," Tony says curtly, then without missing a beat, he shifts his attention back to you. "Y/N, would you like to dance?"

The question catches you off guard, but you find yourself nodding. "Sure."

Tony gives you a small, reassuring smile, one that feels different from the others. There’s something softer in it. Something more honest.

Before you can even process it, Tony’s already guiding you toward the dance floor, leaving Vanessa standing there, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes narrowing in something like confusion or frustration.

But Tony doesn’t even glance back. He doesn’t give her a second of his attention.

It’s a subtle shift, but it’s a powerful one.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, you can see the depth of his sincerity.

As you step onto the dance floor, Tony takes your hand firmly in his, positioning you against him with a confidence that feels both familiar and strange. He’s not treating you like a business arrangement tonight. He’s treating you like… well, like someone he cares about.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says quietly as you begin to sway together, his voice low enough that only you can hear it. “Let them talk. We’re here for us.”

You blink up at him, surprised by his words. You hadn’t realized how much the whispers in the room had been bothering you until now. The pressure of their eyes, the feeling of judgment. But Tony, as always, manages to take the edge off.

“I’m just…” You pause, unsure of how to put it into words. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Tony meets your eyes, his gaze intense, as if he’s considering everything that’s led you both here. “You don’t have to be perfect,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Just be you. And I’ll be me.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it carries so much weight. For the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe—just maybe—this marriage, this mess of a relationship, might be worth something after all.

The song continues, slow and soft, and you let yourself fall into it, the world around you slowly fading. You focus on Tony’s presence, the warmth of his hand, the rhythm of his movements.

It’s easier this way.

Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened. Maybe it’s because you’ve both been through so much already. Or maybe it’s because, for the first time, Tony is showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen.

His attention is entirely on you. His eyes never leave yours, his hand never lets go.

The woman who once held his attention effortlessly is nothing now, a distant memory.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You stop, your breath catching in your throat. You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of the old Tony—cocky, aloof, distant. But there’s nothing there.

His expression is raw, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I’m here,” you say softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time since you’ve known him, you believe it.

You both keep dancing.

---

Tony doesn’t get a free pass just because he was nice for one night.

You’ve been burned too many times before.

He might have ignored Vanessa, might have acted like a devoted husband at the gala, but that doesn’t erase the months of indifference, the way he used to treat you like nothing more than a business transaction.

So you make it difficult for him.

You don’t reject his gestures outright, but you don’t encourage them either. When he brings you coffee in the mornings, you thank him politely, but you don’t smile. When he pulls out a chair for you at the dining table, you sit without a word. When he lingers too close, when his hand brushes against yours as if testing your reaction, you pull away before he can get too comfortable.

Tony notices.

Of course he notices.

But instead of getting frustrated and giving up—like the old Tony might have—he tries harder.

At first, it almost annoys you.

He follows you around the penthouse, trying to engage you in conversation. He asks about your day, about the books you’re reading, about the movies you like.

He never used to care about any of that before.

One evening, you come home from a short walk and find that your favorite meal is waiting for you on the dining table. The scent fills the air, warm and inviting.

You look at Tony, suspicious. “What is this?”

He shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Dinner.”

“You cooked?”

Tony scoffs. “Do I look like I know how to cook? I had it made.”

Of course he did.

But the fact that he remembered what you liked, that he went through the trouble, makes something uncomfortable twist inside you.

Still, you keep your expression neutral. “Thanks,” you say, sitting down.

Tony doesn’t join you right away. He just watches, waiting for your reaction.

It’s frustrating.

Because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Because part of you is still scared.

Because if you let yourself believe that this is real—if you let yourself fall for him again—you don’t know if you’ll survive it when he inevitably stops trying.

So you keep your walls up.

And Tony keeps fighting to break them down.

—

He never misses an opportunity to prove himself.

You go out to a small café one afternoon, needing space, needing time to think. You don’t tell Tony where you’re going, but when you step inside, you see him there.

Waiting.

He’s sitting at a corner table, already sipping on a cup of coffee, and when he spots you, he waves like he just casually happened to be there, like he didn’t deliberately track your location and get there before you.

You exhale sharply, marching up to him. “Are you following me?”

Tony grins, unfazed. “I prefer the term ‘coincidentally appearing where my wife is.’”

You fold your arms. “You do realize this isn’t normal behavior, right?”

Tony leans back in his chair, studying you. “Maybe not. But nothing about us has ever been normal.”

You hate how easily he gets under your skin.

Still, a tiny part of you—one you refuse to acknowledge—likes that he’s trying.

You sit down across from him, sighing. “Fine. If you’re going to stalk me, at least buy me a coffee.”

Tony smirks. “Done.”

—

As the days pass, you start to see it.

The change.

It’s not just in the grand gestures or the obvious efforts. It’s in the little things.

The way he listens when you talk.

The way he doesn’t interrupt or dismiss your thoughts.

The way he notices when you’re tired and gives you space, but also notices when you’re upset and refuses to let you wallow.

He’s not just trying to win you over—he’s genuinely trying to be better.

But you still don’t have the answer to the one thing that matters most.

You don’t know why.

Is he doing this just to keep up appearances? To avoid the scandal of a divorce? Or is there something more?

You refuse to let yourself believe in the latter until you’re sure.

Until you have proof.

—

The end of the month approaches faster than you expect.

And Tony? He doesn’t slow down.

If anything, he becomes even more present, more insistent.

He takes you out—to dinners, to museums, even to a drive-in movie one night, which surprises you because you never expected Tony Stark to be the type to sit through a two-hour film in a car.

(He spends half the movie making sarcastic comments about the plot, but you catch him sneaking glances at you more than the screen.)

He also starts touching you more.

Not in a way that feels demanding or forceful—just small, lingering touches. A hand on your lower back as he guides you through a room. A brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something.

It’s subtle, but it’s enough to make your heart ache.

Because if this isn’t real—if this is all just a temporary act—then he’s being cruel without even realizing it.

So, on the final night before the month is over, you ask him the one thing you’ve been too afraid to say out loud.

“Do you love me?”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy, impossible to take back.

Tony freezes.

You watch as the cocky mask he so often wears slips, as something raw flickers in his expression.

He doesn’t answer right away, and the silence is suffocating.

But you don’t look away.

You need the truth.

You deserve it.

Finally, Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“I didn’t think I could.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

He looks at you, and for the first time, you see it—everything he’s been holding back.

“I never thought I was capable of it,” he admits. “Loving someone. Being loved.” His throat works as he swallows, his gaze never leaving yours. “I pushed you away because it was easier. Because I was terrified.”

You don’t know what to say.

Tony takes a step closer, his voice steadier now.

“But then you left.” His jaw tightens. “And I realized that losing you was worse than anything I was afraid of.”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes. “Tony…”

“I love you,” he says, the words breaking something inside you. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”

You should say something.

But the emotions overwhelm you, your heart pounding too loudly in your chest.

Tony hesitates, his eyes searching yours. “If you still want me to sign the divorce papers, I will. I won’t force you to stay in something that hurts you.”

Your breath shudders.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for—the proof that he’s changed, that he’s not just doing this for show.

Because if this were just about avoiding a scandal, he wouldn’t give you a choice.

And yet, here he is, handing you the decision.

You exhale slowly, blinking back the tears.

“I don’t want you to sign them,” you whisper.

Tony’s shoulders relax, relief flooding his face.

You take a step closer. “But I need time. I need to trust that this isn’t just temporary.”

Tony nods, his hands reaching out to gently cup your face. “Take all the time you need.”

And when he kisses you—soft, slow, filled with everything he’s been too afraid to say—you finally let yourself believe that maybe this could be real.

---

Tony is patient with you.

At first, you expect him to push—because that’s who he is. But he doesn’t. He lets you come to him on your own terms.

It starts with small moments.

A kiss in the morning when he brings you coffee, just a quick press of lips before he murmurs, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

A lingering touch at dinner, his fingers brushing against your knee under the table as he listens to you talk.

A slow, lazy kiss in the hallway after an evening out, his hands resting at your waist like he never wants to let go.

The tenderness in his touch, the warmth in his gaze, the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in the world—it all makes you realize that this isn’t an act. This isn’t temporary.

Tony has changed.

And more importantly—he loves you.

That’s why, one night, when he kisses you deeper than usual, when his hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, you don’t pull away.

You let yourself want this. Want him.

Tony notices the shift immediately. His breathing turns heavier, his hands trembling slightly as they roam your body, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

He breaks the kiss just enough to search your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You answer by kissing him again, tilting your head to give him everything.

It’s slow at first, every touch a reassurance, a promise.

But then, it turns into something more.

Something desperate.

Something you’ve both been holding back for far too long.

—

You don’t leave the bed for hours.

And when you do, it’s only because Tony insists on carrying you to the shower, pressing lazy kisses to your skin as the warm water cascades over both of you.

Afterward, he tucks you into bed, pulling you close, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your hair. “And I’m yours.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said anything like that.

And you know he means it.

—

A few days later, you attend another event with him.

This time, things are different.

This time, you don’t feel like just a business partner standing at his side.

You feel like his wife.

Tony barely leaves your side the entire night. His hand rests on your waist, his thumb stroking absent patterns against the fabric of your dress. He kisses your temple in between conversations, leans down to murmur comments in your ear that make you laugh.

You feel adored.

Cherished.

But then, you see her.

Vanessa.

She’s standing near the bar, watching Tony like she always does.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before.

The difference is that now, you do something about it.

When Tony turns his attention to greet someone, you make your way across the room, walking right up to Vanessa.

Her lips curl into a smirk. “Oh? Finally ready to fight for him?”

You tilt your head. “No. Just ready to remind you that I’ve already won.”

You don’t give her a chance to respond.

Instead, you turn on your heel, grab Tony’s hand, and pull him with you toward the nearest bathroom.

He barely has time to react before you push him inside, locking the door behind you.

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, this is a surprise.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you kiss him.

It’s different from before—fiercer, more possessive.

Tony groans against your lips, backing you up against the counter. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

You nip at his bottom lip in response. “Shut up.”

He grins, but it quickly fades as your hands start to wander.

The rest of the world ceases to exist.

—

When you finally leave the bathroom, everyone knows.

Your hair is slightly messy, your lipstick smudged. Tony’s tie is loose, his expression smug as he keeps his arm around your waist, walking you back into the event like nothing happened.

Vanessa glares.

Tony leans in, whispering against your ear, “That was hot.”

You smirk, gripping his hand tighter.

And from that moment on, there’s no doubt left—

Tony Stark is yours.

And he loves it.

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