#i don't know what to do with these feelings

[catmask]

meowdy! looks like our move to a new apartment is not going to be so peaceful after all - our old apartment is currently leaking sewage water and we have to evacuate four people and two cats! donations are appreciated, but im opening an emergency sale + commissions too! (more under the cut)

KO-FI SHOP SALE + EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

DISCOUNT CODE IS 'LEAK' IN ALL CAPS

so for this section, i'm going to break down everything thats happening + when things will come off hiatus! i'm hoping that everything will be set up in the new place by JUNE 1st, so that is the hard deadline i'm setting to start all functions up again as usual.

WHAT'S HAPPENING?

two years ago, my fiance and i were offered emergency housing when we (very suddenly and tragically) became the parents to his orphaned little sister. both of us are only 26 and had to move 8 hours from where we had been living at the time, so the housing we had was the best 2 people with few connections and no established jobs could find within a single weeks notice.

since then, we have been saving up and working to finally have a proper place to live. and we did so! at the beginning of this month we found an apartment where all of us can move to. we have a friend staying with us who is helping with the move as well.

i really wanted this move to be seamless - basically, you wouldn't have had to know it was happening. we were going to pay double rent for two months while i would stream and work from the old place, and begin sleeping at the new one. its expensive, but i didn't want my real life to trouble anyone here.

unfortunately this is no longer possible. the old building we were staying at had a pipe begin to leak, then eventually flood our entire apartment. this has been a reoccurring problem the landlord hasn't seemed to find a solution for, and it's led to a biohazard where we were planning on slowly moving from - leading to an immediate and emergency evacuation for the safety of everyone in our family.

SO... STREAMING?

will be back online as soon as possible! we moved out our tech as soon as we could due to fear of water damage, and it seems like everything is A-OK. we just need to rebuild my desk and sound proof the new room, so this will probaaabbly be back online within a week? im just going to take the week off to make sure everything is set up and there are no bugs. (digital. digital bugs.)

LAIKA'S COMET?

for the sake of not losing my buffer crazystyle, i'm pausing laika's until JUNE 1st. but i'm going to post one more page right now to leave you guys on a cliffhanger because i think it's funny. (the ko-fi will still update as regular as i finish pages! tbh, in between moving i am going to be drawing.... a LOT... it's like my only self soothing activity i have access to right now </3)

SHOP STUFF?

you basically won't notice a difference. orders go out every 2 weeks anyway, and literally the day before this happened we completely caught up to date. that + all of the goods we had were already moved over because (similar to the tech) we were worried about water damage, so nothing will be yucky... (i dont know if i can say the same about our furniture or clothes ; _ ; )

FINAL NOTES

while we did manage to get out with emergency bags and a weeks worth of outfits + things to sleep on + cook with, we have no real means of knowing the extent of damage until we bring things out of the apartment and clean them here. thankfully *most* things appear undamaged, its largely the flooring and the smell that are unliveable... walking through puddles of sewage water and having to wear a mask to breathe is not really liveable conditions.

however, considering this move is sped up way faster than planned, and i wont be able to work during it - any sales or donations are hugely appreciated. ; w ;

i'm sorry to ask for help like this, and its only if you are comfortable to do so!!! i can work hard, so i don't mind doing a little extra art to make money, this is just if you feel okay to help out and would like to.

if you read this far, thank you so much - hopefully next time i will return with good news - and maybe a new apartment tour...?

[fireinmoonshot]

drawing the line | bucky barnes x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts. Warnings: There are very subtle mentions to reader having some issues mentally but nothing specific is mentioned other than her being very guarded and angry. This is inspired by and takes place during a scene from the Thunderbolts movie! It has direct spoilers for the film! If you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this one yet. Word Count: 1.9k. A/N: It has been three whole years since I wrote for Bucky Barnes. Thanks to Thunderbolts, I am so back 🥰. I had this idea for the movie when I saw it again yesterday and I plotted most of it out at work today. I'm really happy with how it turned out so I hope that you will all enjoy it. More Bucky fics coming soon – as well as more Bob and Joaquín too! 💗 Requests are always open.

Bucky realises he’s made a mistake pretty quickly.

In his defence, he isn’t very good at checking his phone – especially now that he’s a congressman and he has even less time on his hands than usual. But he’d been worried about Mel, the assistant of Valentina, and had figured that by tracking her phone like she’d asked, he might have a better chance at finally taking Valentina down.

If he had read his texts, though, he would’ve seen one from you. Valentina says I have one last mission and my contract is up. I’m on my way. Have a bad feeling about this one though. Can you track me? 

Yeah, he’s messed up.

He’s even more certain of that when he’s pulling the unconscious bodies of Ava Starr, Yelena Belova, John Walker and Alexei Shostakov out of the limo he’d blown up and he finds you with them. Thankfully, you’re not injured. 

When you come to, the first thing you see is Bucky, sitting opposite you with his eyebrows knotted in worry. For a moment, everything is fuzzy and you’re not sure how you got here – and then everything comes back to you.

You’d been trying to outrun Valentina’s men who’d been coming after you after your escape when Bucky had shown up. Everyone in the car had been more than excited and you’d felt relieved – he’d seen your text and he’d come to save you – until he’d practically blown the limo up with you inside of it.

“What the hell, Bucky?” You blink, squeezing your eyes shut briefly as you adjust to the light in the room. You look around, seeing the others all sat nearby – tied up, some of them even restrained with pieces of metal that Bucky had wrapped around them. 

It’s when you see them tied up that you realise you’re not. 

“Doll,” Bucky starts, his voice soft. “Listen, I–”

“Do not ‘doll’ me,” you shake your head. “So, blowing up our car and almost killing me is okay, but you draw the line at tying me up?” You motion to the others and then to yourself.

Bucky sighs. He knew you’d be mad, but this is another level of mad. He understands – of course he does, you’d nearly died. But regardless, he’d hoped you’d be a little more lenient. “I didn’t even know you were in the car.”

You raise your eyebrows and scoff. “I text you and say hey, this mission feels wrong and you don’t think twice? Am I talking to Bucky Barnes right now? What happened to the guy that ran seven red lights two months ago when I got into a minor car accident just to make sure I was okay?” 

He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, walking a few steps away from you. Behind him, you stand up as well, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down – like you do very well. Bucky knows that you can be stubborn when you want to, but this is the next level to that. He loves your stubborn side. He loves this side of you as well… but he hates that it’s him that the anger is directed at.

This is not the you that he’d been tangled in the sheets with only a few nights ago. This is not the you that had kissed him goodbye before he’d headed off to work last week. This is the you that he’d seen the first time he ever met you. Strong, guarded as hell and pissed off at the world.

“You texted me?” He mutters, and then regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth. He resists the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket and check his unread messages. 

For a second, you just stare at him, and then you start laughing. “I texted you? Are you serious right now?” You exclaim, turning away from him and shaking your head. “No, why on earth would I text my boyfriend when I was going into a potentially life threatening situation set up by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine? I’ll remember that for next time and keep it to myself, since you’re apparently too busy to check.”

“Well, would you have even read my message if I had replied? Considering you were on a mission? Yeah, I don’t think so,” Bucky can’t help but bite back a little.

“No, probably not,” you admit. “Because I don’t have a phone anymore – it fell out of my pocket when I was running for my life back at the vault and then it got incinerated, like I would have if it had been even one second later!”

Your voice is raised even louder now, basically yelling at Bucky, though you hate to do it. You and Bucky never fight like this, not really. But this whole situation has gotten under your skin and you can’t help but be mad at yourself for thinking Bucky had come to save you, when in reality he was just there to kidnap the others for some unknown reason.

Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing that Bucky can say to that. He stares at you, eyes wide as the full gravity of the situation settles on his shoulders. You’d almost been incinerated. And then Bucky had almost killed you himself. Was there any coming back from this?

In the silence, you hear a cough and both of you turn to look over at the others, all of whom are now awake and sitting upright, watching the two of you. How much of your argument had they heard? You wince internally and start to walk towards them.

“You either untie them, or you tie me up with them,” you say, sitting down beside Walker.

Walker looks over at you, a confused look on his face. He obviously had no idea that you’re with Bucky, even though the two of them know each other. You try to ignore the feeling in your stomach, the one that says that maybe Bucky means more to you than you do to him, especially since Walker doesn’t even know about you two.

Bucky thinks it over for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to you again. He crouches down beside you and decides he’s going to try again – even though the eyes of every other person in the room are focused on him. He reaches up to try and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear but you bat his hand away. 

“I’m not tied up so I can still tuck my own hair behind my ear, Barnes.” 

You turn away from him, looking over at Ava and Alexei. 

“This is your boyfriend?” Ava asks, looking between the two of you. “Girl.”

The one word says everything. You almost laugh at her.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to make his decision. He stands up again and then beckons for you to stand up as well. “Stand up and let me tie you up, then,” he says, hoping that he sounds as nonchalant as he is intending to be. Even though not one part of him is actually intending on tying you up. It’s true – he draws the line at that.

You stand up and one second later, Bucky has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. You yelp, hitting his back as he walks out of the room, leaving the other four alone. “Bucky, what the hell are you doing!?” You exclaim.

He pushes the front door of the garage open with a foot and then kicks it closed behind him. Once he sets you down on the ground outside, you move to push him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists and place them gently on his chest instead. You’re mad, but he’s not going to let you hurt him, or accidentally hurt you more than he already has.

“I’m not continuing this argument inside in front of all of the others,” he says, nodding his head towards the garage and trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on his hands and the pressure of them on his chest. You’re here. You’re alive. He didn’t kill you. Nor did Valentina.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you shake your head and try to pull your hands away, but his grip is too strong. “I’ve said everything that I needed to say in there, Bucky. I asked for your help, you almost killed me yourself. It’s clear enough.”

“You said what you said, but you barely let me get a word in, doll.”

You shrug your shoulders and look away from him, focusing on the mountains in the distance and wonder how long it’ll take the others to get free so you can all get the hell out of here. Even though a small part of you, the part of you that isn’t clouded by your anger right now, wants nothing more than to wrap your arms around Bucky’s body, bury your head in his chest and feel his arms around you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your message,” he begins, hoping you’ll let him talk. “I’ve been so bad with anything that’s not work these days and trying to bring down Valentina that I’ve put everything else to the side. I shouldn’t have put you there too.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, still unable to look at him.

“I didn’t know you were in that limo when I blew it up. I just knew that there were people in there that could help me bring down Valentina once and for all and I was going to stop that limo at all costs,” he explains. “You don’t know how terrified I was when I saw you were inside of it. I swear, I spent five minutes just checking to make sure you weren’t injured before I brought you all here. I couldn’t bring myself to tie you up after all that, doll.”

“Likely story,” you huff under your breath, as if the thought of him checking you over to make sure you were okay doesn’t make your heart beat faster and your fingers, still pressed to his chest, itch to pull him closer to you.

Bucky removes one of his hands from yours and carefully reaches down to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You try and restrain yourself for a few moments before eventually meeting his eyes. Just looking in them tells you that he’s speaking the truth. 

“I would never do anything knowingly to hurt you, doll,” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, voice soft as you try not to lean too much into his hand. 

“Then do you forgive me?”

“No,” you shake your head, but in the progress, you can’t help but relax into his grip a little. You let out a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his hand on your face. “I don’t forgive you yet, Bucky. I need time.”

Bucky nods and lets out a small breath of relief. “I’ll take it.”

You remove one of your hands from Bucky’s chest and place it over the hand that’s still on your jaw. “We need to talk,” you start. “Not you and me, all of us. There are things that happened down there in that vault that you need to know about before we go after Valentina, if we can even get the others to join us.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “Just one more thing.” He leans down and presses his lips to your forehead before dropping his hand from your jaw and stepping back away from you, clearly wanting to give you space even though you hadn’t asked for it. The thoughtfulness makes your heart swell in your chest. “C’mon doll, let’s go.”

[unatunda]

[madabapf]

Part 21 First Prev

First Prev

pocket monkey king single handedly carrying the doomed gays🙏 (bc lord knows they wouldn't talk without an outer force... at least not in the good way-)

welp- and with that their drunken adventure comes to an end these dorks still got a long way to go, but they've come far for one day~

i'm sorry it's not the "grand finale" some of you might have been hoping for with them getting back together- still, i hope their journey of slowly growing closer again was enjoyable :) maybe one day i'll feel confident enough in my writing that i'll continue their story who knows

this was my first time ever doing something like this (if it wasn't obvious lmao) it's far from perfect but it was a very fun experience nonetheless :D this wasn't even meant to be a whole ah comic, i don't know how this happened tbh-

i still got a little bonus part up my sleeve tho so keep a lookout for that! also if there is open questions about what happend during/after the comic or "what if" scenarios that would interest you, i'd love to answer a few of those in comic form after the bonus is out :)

thank you everyone for sticking around and being so kind and supportive <3

[buddieskitchen]

I was wacthing last thursday's episode and suddenly it hit me. What do you mean all buddie related conversations in 8b happened in kitchens???? Let me break it down cause this pattern is insane and I'm in full clown makeup over kitchen theory

8x8 Wannabes (last episode of 8a): Buck finding out about Eddie moving to Texas in Eddie's kitchen.

2. 8x9 Sob Stories: Buck overhears Eddie saying everything important to him is in Texas.

3. 8x11 Holy Mother of God: Tommy implies Eddie was his romantic competition in regards to Buck.

4. 8x11 Holy Mother of God: Maddie asks Buck if he's in love with Eddie. This takes place in her kitchen.

5. 8x12 Disconnected (edited: as pointed out by anon): Eddie tells Buck about his employment issue with the El Paso firehouse, Buck asks if he's thinking of coming back. The box at the bottom right of eddie's frame has "kitchen" written in it. Could mean nothing.

6. 8x12 Disconnected: When Eddie calls Buck to tell him about Chris finding out he's an Uber driver, Buck walks into the kitchen and grabs a beer.

7. 8x13 Invisible: Buck and Eddie facetime while cooking together. They discuss a recipe involving a slow cooker.

8. 8x17 Don't Drink the Water: Eddie talks to Hen and Karen about his concerns about Buck, his own grief, and slips in calling LA home. Both the words kitchen and slow cooker are explicitly said here, which could mean nothing.

9. 8x17 Don't Drink the Water: Buck and Eddie argue after Buck find's out Eddie has an opening at the El Paso firehouse, Eddie opens up to Buck about breaking Bobby's death to Chris.

10. 8x17 Don't Drink the Water: Pepa and Buck discuss embracing change, in the context of Bobby's death. And listen, i know Bobby's corpse is still fresh but if you just consider for a minute the consequences of 8x11 this conversation is kind of insane.

Anyways uhm. 8b Kitchen theory. Slow cooker theory. I'm in full clown makeup right now but I feel like this can't be a coincidence considering the writers know how much importance we lend to the kitchen. And I mean if you wanted to do fanservice might as well go all in with the hints. Again, could mean nothing.

[trailerparkvampire]

you ever think about the intricacies of smoke & stack's dynamic and go fucking crazy?

their abusive father zeroing in on stack as the outlet for his beatings, smoke killing their daddy, half way done burying him by the time stack came to - smoke being the BIG BROTHER from the start, keeping stack safe - stack becoming who he is - bit reckless, full of charisma and whimsy because of smoke, in a way, shielding him from the world ("doesn't know how to watch his own back").

thinking of smoke saying how stack is the best thing about him, how stack talks a big game but how it's smoke who kills the snake, smoke who shoots two men for stealing out of his truck, smoke who pulls a gun on sammie and pearline. does he ever think he got more of their daddy in him than stack? where stack can connect with people in a way smoke can't quite follow. stack laying out clothes for him, doing his hair, rolling his cigarettes- giving smoke back some of what the war took.

but I also can't help but think that there is this slight ....almost paternalistic element at times - the way stack looks around for smoke when he's with mary, worried he'll be caught, worried he'll displease him and yet that thing he says when he's turned "don't let that witch come between us again" - there's no doubt that stack loves annie and is clearly DISTRAUGHT when smoke kills her but ...was there ever resentment? did he ever feel betrayed? was it ever only meant to be the two of them against the world?

"he was the best thing about me" "i ain't doing it without you there ain't no me without you" "sorry for not keeping you safe - you always did" the way stack is just that one person smoke can't kill, the way the only time he wavers in his resolve is when his vampire brother talks with him.

(this is borderline incoherent but I have a lot of thoughts)

[suiana]

stoic ahhh yandere who looks like he has the emotional capabilities of a rock but is secretly super sweet.

"what's this?"

"you mentioned liking the cafe's croissant and brownies... i bought some for you because you were feeling down."

"aww wait that's actually so sweet! thank you babe! i love you!"

"Ok."

bros also the type of guy to say the most devious things with a straight face like??? huh??? what do you mean???

"if someone hurts you, i will handle it."

"bro??? what do you mean??? are you going to kill them???"

"i will handle it."

"HELLO???"

it's lowkey kinda cute but if he's going to be popping up behind you every time too... you think you'll die before he can actually do any of those things. did i mention he's quiet? yeah, he's super damn quiet. he'll randomly pop up behind you, stare at your back as you do something before speaking in the most deadpan voice.

"hm... this book is interesting... yes, i like this book a lot-"

"more interesting than me?"

"BRO"

it's like he doesn't know how to process and show emotions like a normal human... he's so... interesting. is he an alien?

"babe are you an alien?"

"no."

"do you love me?"

"yes."

"did you kill the guy who flirted with me two days ago?"

"ye- no. why did you ask? i definitely did not kill him. i am a normal person."

your boyfriend may be a little weird but he's your boyfriend and you love him. even if he's lowkey a little bit...

"babe? what are you doing in the corner of the room in middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep so i decided to stand in the corner and reflect on myself."

"...what?"

"you deserve better than me but i simply cannot allow you to be with someone else. it's a selfish thing and i am feeling... guilty that you are stuck with a person that cannot give you the attention you deserve. am i a bad person? I don't know. but being with you brings me such immense joy and i can only hope that you will love me enough so that this guilt will not weigh so heavy in my heart."

[3liza]

after meaning to get around to it for years i finally listened to almost the entirety of Sold a Story and it is as groundbreaking as everyone says it is. it's also the most confusing, to me, single event in American culture in my lifetime and my reasons for thinking that are pretty complex so im not sure theyre fully formed yet. there's a list of shit in this podcast that made me feel like i was going insane

i KNEW something was going on at a population level, i've been noticing it for years, people kept telling me i was imagining things, but i was RIGHT, two generations of kids have been reduced to barely-literate levels of language function because of this shit and you CAN see it and hear it while talking to people in the world!

the entire adoption of the Calkins programs in the first place were based on the majority of people responsible for American child education deciding basically overnight that "children don't need to learn phonics in order to become strong readers" which is literally and not figuratively equivalent to saying "children can learn algebra without learning what numbers are". it is so self-evidently false i dont even know how to respond to such an assertion. you have to be fundamentally devoid of common sense to think this is true. language is comprised of sounds (phonemes), sounds are represented by letters, letters make up the alphabet, the alphabet makes up words, and words make up sentences. you cant just skip over the parts of this you dont like, it's the basis of our entire civilization. "i dont need to learn individual notes i just want to play to saxophone" okay well. too bad? you cant

american primary education apparently has no communication whatsoever with the scientific fields of human behaviorism, pediatrics, neurology, linguistics, the science of learning generally, and there is next to zero communication between teachers who are actively responsible for educating children and the entire research field of educating children. they just dont talk to each other, at least in huge swaths of the country. in retrospect this is obvious, i just have been assuming incorrectly this entire time that maybe, surely, some aspect of how our public schools are administered is in some way being guided by scientific evidence and research. this has apparently not been the case for 20+ years. Lucy Calkins herself claims she "didn't know" that the research on how children acquire language had been essentially settled by the 1990s, she just wrote her stupid book based on her own self-assurance that what she THOUGHT children were doing when they learned language was correct. she ddin't check, she didnt ask about research or studies, she didn't test her hypothesis, she just told everyone she had figured out how to teach kids to read based on nothing but her own untested assumptions. and everyone was like "okay sounds good". every single person involved in this process is or was in a position of responsibility for educating american children. and almost none of them thought to ask "okay, but have you tested it? does it work?" because they didn't test it, and it doesnt work, and for some reason that was never even brought up

teachers kept being interviewed on this podcast who kept saying things like: "they never taught us how to teach children to read" and "they didn't teach us how children learn so i had no idea how it worked" and then explaining this was why they were so easily hoodwinked by the Calkins program. i don't understand this. what is actually taught during the two year degree programs at teaching colleges? if it's not child psychology, pedagogy, neurology, and actual techniques for teaching children, what are they teaching you to do there? one of my friends who went to a teaching college told me they mostly provided classes on lesson planning.

individual teachers apparently are not reading books or articles or papers on any of these subjects either. so having graduated from a teaching college knowing nothing about children, teaching, or even basic english literacy ("i didn't know how to teach phonics and no one told me" is another thing actual teachers kept saying on the podcast. girl, SESAME STREET can teach basic english phonics, and it does), almost none of them actually do any investigation on their own. they just show up to their workplace (the school) and "teach" whatever admin hands them. ?????????????? how is this possible?

i realized last night in a fugue of post-exertional malaise that the three-cueing method of teaching reading is training children to approach language very similarly to how a large language model does it. they laboriously instruct the children to guess what the next word in a sentence will be, often by actually covering the word with a post-it note and then cajoling and badgering the child until he guesses the word under the post-it, based on the vibes on the sentence he's reading. this doesnt teach you to read, it teaches you to act like youre reading

this isnt directly addressed in the podcast but we used to just teach everyone english like it was an actual system that has parts and rules and structures, because that's what a language is. everyone would start with phonics and the alphabet, then later do stuff like sentence diagramming and grammar, neither of which have been taught in primary schools in decades. i think i was probably the very last generation of kids to get ANY of that stuff unless they went to an exceptional school, and it was only because my 8th grade teacher knew it was important and went against school admin's instructions in order to teach it. the couple days of sentence diagramming and grammar he gave us, out of SPITE, have been more useful to me in reading and writing than the entire rest of primary english education i received in public school, and i didn't even go to a school that had adopted three-cueing stuff yet.

[hrrtshape]

for a lot of people, this idea of being grateful when they're looking at the environment and they don't see it, its hard for them to believe. what can they do to put themselves into gratitude so they can bring that manifestation in? 　　 　　a conversation with a former self.

answer , you stop looking at the world as if it's evidence. you stop treating the environment as a diagnostic tool. your reality isn't a thermometer, it's a mirror. and the mirror reflects what you assume to be true. if you want to see something different, you have to be different first. not reactively. not as a response to the world. but as a premise. gratitude isn't a reward for progress. it's the foundation of it.　

q : but what if that feels fake? what if i can't convince myself?

answer , then you're still worshipping the wrong god. you're still asking reality to go first. you want proof before you believe. but that's not how this works. this isn't a courtroom. this is creation. and creation isn't fair. it's arrogant. it demands that you believe in something before you have any reason to. that's what faith is, not piety. not virtue. just delusion weaponised. and gratitude is its most strategic form.　

q : so i have to lie to myself?

answer , no. you have to choose what kind of liar you want to be. because you're lying either way. when you say 'i'll never get there', you're lying. when you say 'nothing's changing', you're lying. when you say 'i have to wait', you're lying. you just believe those lies because they're easier to prove. but ease isn't truth. evidence isn't truth. if you're going to be delusional, at least be deliberate about it. believe in something that serves you.　

q : okay. but what does that look like in practice?

answer , it looks like thanking the train before it arrives. it looks like saying 'i love my life' with a debt collector on the phone. it looks like sitting in a mouldy flat and whispering 'this is the best it's ever been'. not because you're ignoring the pain. not because you're pretending you're happy. but because you understand that every moment is a seed. and what you water becomes. gratitude is how you choose your future. you don't have to like the present. but you do have to invest in it.　

q : what if it just feels . . . impossible.

answer , then start smaller. thank your lungs. thank your tea. thank your nailbeds. thank the fact that you know what you want. thank the aching gap between you and it. not because pain is romantic. not because suffering is noble. but because that tension is proof you still believe in more. if you were really hopeless, you wouldn't be hurting. you'd be numb. numbness is death. pain is proof you still want.　

q : how does this tie to shifting or loa?

answer , because shifting isn't a portal. it's a premise. it's a refusal. you don't shift because the world gives you permission. you shift because you've revoked its authority. and law of assumption isn't a theory. it's a verdict. it says: what i decide is final. it doesn't say: what i see. it says: what i say. gratitude is your evidence. it's how you close the case. when you say "i'm so glad it's already mine," you're not visualising, you're declaring. legislating.　

q : but why is gratitude so powerful?

answer , because it assumes completion. it skips the middle. it says: i already have it. and the universe responds to assumption, not ambition. desire makes noise. gratitude closes the loop. it doesn't beg. it doesn't chase. it confirms. and what you confirm, conforms. your reality has no choice but to rearrange itself around what you believe is done.　

q : what if i fall out of it? what if i lose the feeling?

answer , then start again. this isn't about consistency. it's about conviction. you can doubt all morning and still decide by noon. you can spiral at 3pm and still affirm at 3:05. you're not being graded. there is no tally. there is only now. and now. and now again. gratitude is not a mood. it's not a vibe. it's not about being high frequency, it's a decision, and you make it as often as you need to.　

q : so what's the actual takeaway?

answer , you go first. always. not the bank account. not the mirror. not the text. you. reality is not a parent. it's not in charge of your feelings. you are. if you want a different scene, you have to be a different actor. gratitude is how you change the genre. the world won't thank you until you thank it. not because it's cruel, but because it's listening.　

q : final question. what do you say to the part of me that still doesn't buy it?

answer , i say she's welcome to stay. she can sit in the corner. she can cross her arms. she can sulk. but she doesn't get to drive. she doesn't get to hold the mic. doubt is not a problem. doubt is not a disqualifier. doubt just means you're smart. but courage is smarter. gratitude is smarter. and they know how to lead.　

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - what's your fs' first impression of you?

hi lovely reader. let's peak into the first impression your fs could potentially have of you. remember this is a general reading, so not everything will resonate with everyone! breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and let the rest flow. 𓂃♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ pile 1 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

immediately heard the word “magnetic”. you will have a powerful impression on your future lover. you will stand out to them. a lot. there is something about your energy, the way you carry yourself, the way you look, the way you act, the way you speak; it's hypnotising, captivating and incredibly intriguing to your fs. it will be an instant attraction. first time they spot you, you just catch their eye right away, and something about you will mesmerize them.

i see this potentially happening in a setting where's there's several people around you, perhaps a party or celebration of some sort. the atmosphere is nice, enjoyable. likely to take place in an environment that's easygoing and pleasant, perhaps among friends or people you feel comfortable with.

your fs could spot you in a position where you're communicating, and the way you articulate yourself could pique their interest. you might give off this very intelligent and witty impression. like you just know what you're talking about, or you're good at what you do.

i see this person perhaps feeling inferior to you, and intimated by your strong presence. the way you make your fs feel could result in them feeling small, like “damn, never knew i could feel this crazy about a person without even getting to know them.” i keep getting the feeling you will stay stuck in this person's mind for a long time. the thought of you will follow them around constantly, and they could get hooked really fast.

there might be hesitation when it comes to actually confronting you, because of this potential inferiority complex they might experience. this person reads as quite hard on themselves, they might not be entirely confident or see themselves as a catch; but you definitely are a major catch in their eyes. that's why it's possible that they could have issues seeing themselves on the same level as you, which could hold them back from approaching you more confidently.

though i have to note; their first impression also consists of you seeing you in a light of empathy, gentleness, kindness. a part of what draws them in to you, could be that they see you as a person capable of providing them with what they don't have, especially in terms of their emotional world. you could bring them the sense of comfort they lack in life. something about you just screams emotional maturity to them. like this person would understand me the way no one else does.

the queen of cups always gives me very cancerian energy. (though you could just have prominent water/4h/12h placements in general!) cancerian people (especially cancer suns, venus' and risings) often have this beautifully feminine energy to them. you might have gorgeous curves, features that are more on the rounder side, like your face shape, which your fs could feel drawn to. something about your eyes could pull them in too, they could be very expressive.

additional physical features they might notice

dark skin

black clothing

white or bleached hair

medium hair

brunette

channelled songs

je te laisserai des mots by patrick watson

“i will leave you words,

under your door

and when you're alone for a moment

pick me up whenever you want

kiss me whenever you want”

nobody gets me by sza

“how am i supposed to tell you?

i don't wanna see you with anyone but me

nobody gets me

you do”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ pile 2 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

your fs' first impression might include seeing you in a crowded place. this is random, so take what resonates, but for some of you it could be a school, a university; just a place where's a lot of different types of people, whose opinions, words or personalities potentially clash a lot.

your future lover could first perceive you, as a calm, quiet and reserved person, who's more of a lone-wolf. someone who prefers withdrawing, doing their own thing, and living in their own little dream world or bubble.

there is this feeling of you liking to doze off into your own fantasies, detached from the things that are going on around you. they could look at you as someone who doesn't enjoy being around people all the time, and feels more comfortable detaching themselves from fights, conflict, drama, gossip.

your fs could think you're the type to be easily overwhelmed, perhaps more insecure too, which could lead to this tendency of yours to distance yourself from everything that is going on. they might see you as someone artistic and introspective. the type to sit off to the side, quietly sketching or listening to music, while the crowd buzzes with noise.

they might be unable to read you at first, with you giving off more of a complex vibe they can't exactly decipher. they're under the impression that you're likely to have so much going on in your head, which could result in them wondering. there's mystery in your stillness.

the energy in terms of your fs' first impression of you, is more naive, shy, innocent, youthful.. it's likely your future lover is either older than you in age, or just thinks you're probably someone who's younger or more immature than them. you might even look younger than you actually are.

some of you might be quite petite in size. i can also see some of you liking to dress up in a dainty way, which your fs could take note of. some of you might have shorter hair, a bob, bangs or light brown or dirty blond hair.

your fs might not really be sure how to behave around you. it's likely they could look at you as someone very sensitive and soft-hearted, which could cause them to be slightly hesitant to be around you. they might be under the impression that you're someone who needs to be dealt with gently.

this impression you made on your fs doesn’t fade quickly. your presence lingers in their mind, not because you were loud or flashy, but because your quiet mystery made them want to know more.

something about you might give your future spouse the impression that you're well off. this could be in a financial sense; some of them might assume you come from a stable family background that supports you (even if that’s not actually the case, remember this is their subjective impression).

it could also reflect how they see you as someone who’s focused on their long-term goals and building a secure future for themselves. there's a quiet sense of success around you, like you're the type who works hard without needing attention, and is likely to achieve a lot because of that.

your energy reminds me of winter from aespa a little bit. she's a capricorn sun with a pisces moon, which gives her this blend of being a dreamy, head-in-the-clouds hard worker.

additional physical features they might notice

coloured eyes (green, blue)

white or bleached hair

beauty marks

freckles

baby face

square face

channelled songs

my future by billie eilish

“cause i'm in love

with my future

can't wait to meet her”

only love can hurt like this by paloma faith

“and when you come close, i just tremble

and every time you go

it's like a knife that cuts right through my soul”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ pile 3 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

wow, safe to say you will make an impression on your fs. this person will quite literally be head over heels obsessed with you, from the moment they meet you. it's like “this person awakens things in me i've never felt before” there’s likely to be an intense, almost magnetic physical pull toward you, that they might not even be able to explain.

when your fs first encounters you, they could view you in a very flirty and charming light. there's just something about the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you look at them, that makes them go crazy inside. even your sole eye contact has the ability to light up not just butterflies, but entire fireworks inside of them.

this person's energy is increeedibly emotional, and very passionate. they could be a bit of a player or womanizer. or perhaps just someone who flirts with a lot of people.

i see them falling fast for people, but hard at the same time. it's likely they'll romanticize the heck out of you in their head. definitely a case of rose-colored glasses, where literally everything you do is ✨captivating✨ to them.

interestingly, their first impression of you might come with a moment of humbling. the attraction will absolutely be there. it will be strong, immediate, even overwhelming, but so will a flicker of doubt. they might wonder if they'd even stand a chance with someone like you.

some of you might genuinely give them a little bit of a harsh reality check and blow to their ego, whether intentional or not. again, it's hard to tell if what i'm sensing is actually of substance, or just your fs' extremely emotion-based perception (this person is a big F in terms of mbti, i will tell you that) but something about the way you act, could make humble them, pull them back down to the ground.

some of you might just not pay much attention them, ignore them, give them the cold shoulder, while some of you could literally tell them to get down their high horse, to slow down or friendzone them. some of you might even be taken already, at your first encounter with your future lover. either way, there's a brief moment where their spirit takes a hit... and then they go right back to dreaming about you.

the star card speaks of dreams and idealism, but it's also about distance and longing.

think of what stars are like.. they're beautiful, so so dazzling and radiant, but unbelievably far away. that's how your fs will see you. beautiful and magnetic, but not easily attainable. they'll think of you as someone who rightfully has high standards, and wouldn't just settle for anyone.

physical features they might notice

sharp face

red head or coloured hair

make up

the way you dress

beauty marks

blue eyes

channelled songs

spicy by aespa

“you want my A to the Z

but you won't get it, not a chance

pulled in in a blink of an eye, you'll be mine”

rude boy by rihanna

“come here rude boy, can you get it up?

show me what you got now

baby, if i don't feel it i ain't faking”

thank you for reading! i'd love to hear you guys' feedback on what resonated for you

[flofaiiry]

sick day ; michael robinavitch x reader

synopsis: robby coming home sick one day from work and reader who just wants to take care of him but this man is so STUBBORN and hates accepting help.

warnings: established relationship, robby is sick & stubborn, immense amounts of fluff and domestic reader & robby

wc: ~1500

note: thank u to everyone who voted in the poll! the people yearn for robby fluff so that is what they will receive 🤲 this was supposed to be just a teeny tiny blurb but i got a little carried away. anyways!!! someone needs to take care of this man pls.

you knew he wasn't well when he got home from work last night but he insists he's fine and just needs to sleep it off but from the amount of tossing and turning you felt last night you don't think he did a whole lot of that.

you take it upon yourself to call the hospital from his phone to tell them he wouldn't be coming in today. you know he probably wouldn't want you to do that but you also know that this man DESPERATELY needs a day off, especially today, but will never take it upon himself to make that happen. you turn off his alarm in hopes that he'll sleep a little more but what you didn't account for was his internal alarm clock, refined through years of waking up at 6am or earlier.

like clockwork his eyes open right when his alarm would normally be blaring. he winces and turns over to see you already staring at him. "my alarm didn't go off," he says, voice raspy from a mix of sleep and sickness. "i know, i turned it off," you reply simply, hand going to his forehead to feel if he's warm. he is. robby squints & rubs his eyes, "you turned it off? why?"

"because you're sick," you say like it's fact (because it is). "i also called the hospital and told them you wouldn't be coming today, so you should try and get some more sleep." your voice is soft, expecting pushback from this stubborn boyfriend of yours. "baby..." he sighs, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. "i know, i know, i shouldn't have done that, but look at you robby. you're miserable, you're in no condition to take care of anyone else today."

robby is nothing if not headstrong.

"i have to go to work, baby," he sighs and tries to sit up. immediately overcome with muscle aches, he flops back down onto the mattress. "if you can't even get out of bed what makes you think you're going to be able to be on your feet all day, huh?" he doesn't say anything, just sighs, looking back to you, "i can get out of bed, i'm fine just... a little sore."

you raise your eyebrows, not buying any of that for a second, "ok then, stand up." he scoffs, "oh, i can stand up." he says, but doesn't make any effort to. you watch him for a second, then shrug, "then do it." you say again, blank expression on your face.

he takes a deep breath before attempting to get up again, getting a teeny bit further than last time, but eventually collapsing back into bed again. he sighs. "ok. maybe i can't get up." you lean over and kiss his forehead, "i know. go back to sleep, let me take care of you today."

"ok," he breathes, finally accepting defeat, "fine." you smile, pleased that your efforts were coming to fruition. his eyes fall shut again and before you can say anything else, you swear he's already out. you run your hands through his hair once before pressing one more kiss to his abnormally warm forehead.

it isn't until around 11:00am that robby wakes up, the sleep ridding his body of the muscle aches and actually allowing him to get up. you're sitting in the living room, watching the news on low volume when he walks in, hoodie and sweatpants on as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. "god, i needed that." he sighs, making his way over to you on the couch. you smile, having to physically resist the urge to say 'i told you so,' and opt for wordlessly leaning your head onto his shoulder.

"thank you," he says quietly into your hair, after pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "for making me stay home." you smile, "i may not be a doctor, but i know when people need rest. and you my love, need rest." he laughs quietly and drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him. the faint smell of his cologne on the sweater filling the air around you. "i love you," he says simply, like it's the easiest thing in the world, your smile grows.

"i know, now let me love you."

you place your hand on his cheek and gently pull his face towards yours, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss.

" 'm gonna make you sick," he says when you pull away, but you just shake your head.

"don't care," you kiss him again, this time for a little longer. the high pitched noise of the kettle coming to a boil snaps you both out of it.

"mmm, coffee?" robby hums, only to be met with the shake of your head, "no, i read that it's not good when you're sick, makes you dehydrated because of the caffeine or something." he groans when you stand up, walking over to the kitchen. "that can't be true, coffee makes everything better."

you shrug, "not according to web m.d. it doesn't"

"according to michael robinavitch m.d. it most certainly does." he teases, turning around to watch you move through the kitchen.

you smile. "nice try, but no medical license for you today. i'll be doing the doctoring for now." he raises his eyebrows, amused smirk coming on his face now, "oh really?"

you nod, "yup. and this doctor's prescription is peppermint tea, watching movies, and cuddling with your girlfriend all day." you take a teabag from the box and place it into his usual mug, paint chipped from years of wear and tear.

"hard to argue with that logic," you hear the tiniest bit of rasp in his voice from the germs. "oh and tylenol," you add, looking up from pouring the water, "tylenol would probably help too."

"tylenol would definitely help," he corrects, "do we even have any of that? i thought you finished it last time you were sick."

"we do now, i went out." you reply, walking back over to the couch to hand him the mug now full of steaming hot tea. he accepts the mug from you, mouthing a 'thank you,' before taking a sip. "you went somewhere? god, i must have been out because i did not hear a thing."

you nod, taking a seat on the couch again next to him. "yup. got meds and stuff to make soup."

he raises his eyebrows through a sip, "make soup? no canned stuff?" you shake your head, "only the best for my patients."

the rest of the day is slow. robby ends up napping for a majority of the time. you make him the soup you promised and watch some history documentary netflix recommended.

as the sun falls and the moon comes up, robby's got his head on your lap, your hands are in his hair, the gentlest scratch of your nails lulling him into yet another nap. it's getting late, and you know he's gonna want to go to work tomorrow. if there's anyway that's going to happen he's going to need a good night's sleep.

"i know when i'm the sick one you'd just carry me to bed but... i don't think that's gonna work out well for me if i try." you say, voice quiet as you run your hand along his arm to slowly wake him up.

"just fireman carry me," he teases, "throw me over your shoulder like a bag of potatoes or something."

"if you want to be responsible for all my broken bones, then sure, i'll give it my best shot." you smile down at him before he sits up. rubbing his eyes and mentally preparing to stand up.

"come on, you know you'll be more comfortable in bed." you say, standing up now and pulling gently at his hand.

"yeah, i know," he hums, standing up. once he's fully straight, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into him. your head falls to rest on his chest like it's where it belongs. like it's natural.

"thank you," he whispers into your hair. if there were anyone else in the room, they wouldn't even know he said anything. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before pulling away to look down at you, "for taking care of me."

you smile, "of course."

"seriously, i know i'm an ass about accepting help. i know i'm stubborn as hell but... thank you for not giving up."

you just smile. not sure what to say. there's no world in which you'd give up on taking care of the man you love who neglects himself all too often.

"let's go to bed," you nod towards the bedroom, "sleep is part of my treatment plan too."

he returns your smile, "lead the way, doctor."

as always send me any feedback / thoughts / ideas / requests u have!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[bizarrelovetriangel]

okay mc running to the boys arms and just staying there saying I feel safe here

nooooo don't fall into their trap you'll never escape it's like a blackhole that'll just suck you in. maybe literally

sylus

- will absolutely drop everything he's doing from the moment you run into his arms. if he's in the middle of doing something like working on a weapon or one of his motorcycles, his focus will 100% shift to you. if he's in the middle of a phone call, he'd give them the "i'll call you back" just to hug you back tightly but gently

- he'll def tease you at first and be like, "looking for the brooch, kitten? what're you up to?" and that grin of his will melt into a soft smile when you tell him that you just want to be there because you feel safe in his arms.

- hearing those words absolutely mean the world to him. all his life, he's been rejected and feared and even now he still intimidates people but to know that the one person who's special to him feels safe in his arms ????? it'll really hit him that he's Loved and seen for his true self and just !!!! he'd be so so so happy

- arms are preoccupied indefinitely

caleb

- will also immediately give his undivided attention to you from the moment he sees you running towards him. like if he was in the middle of assembling some models? it could disintegrate for all he cares. pip-squeak is here. he'll always be prepared to catch you and welcome you into his arms. mc loves doing this ever since they were little.

- caleb has always been mc's safe place since Day One and he knows that. whenever there's thunder and lightning during storms, she'd go to caleb and he'd literally cover her ears and hold her just so she could calm down and fall asleep. she might've grown out of that habit but caleb being her safe place will never change ever ever

- he knows that you feel safe in his arms but still, hearing you say it out loud directly will make him feel so fulfilled and proud. like everything is right. he's made it his life mission to be your protector, so for you to come to him even when there's no danger involved, that you're just relaxed and comfortable in his arms, just like a home would be, he'd take it as his greatest achievement even beyond all the awards and recognitions he's ever received in his life.

- once you're in his arms, he'll embrace you so softly as he always does. but be careful what you wish for — he might not let you go easy. if you have to go to the bathroom, too bad. you gotta wrestle him or tickle him in order to escape. good luck <3

zayne

- okay so funny story just this morning i saw this art of zayne on twitter of mc running into his arms and it's just so precious

- zayne will quite literally drop whatever he has in hands if he sees you running to him. at first, he will be worried about why you were running, but he'd relax when he sees that there's no danger and he senses that you're just there for cuddles. he'd give no further questions and embrace you softly

- like caleb, zayne had made it his goal to protect you in his own ways, so if you tell him that you feel safe in his arms, he'd freeze up for a hot sec and then he'd be flustered, shake his head and chuckle, and then he won't be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day because that means a lot to him

- if he's at the hospital in his office, yvonne might have to cut off the moment short because zayne would get distracted and hold you for so long that he'd be just a little late to wherever he's being summoned. and his colleagues will be playfully dramatic about it like, gasp, dr zayne fell a few seconds behind schedule ????? and when they see that it's because of you, they'd just be like "that explains it" bc they just know how important you are to zayne. they'd catch him looking happier than usual and they'll know it's because of you.

xavier

- at first he'd be too sleepy to be aware of what's happening around him. if you run into his arms, he'd hold you out of instinct, half-awake and everything. he probably won't even ask why you suddenly decided to hug him like that. he'll just accept his fate.

- but if he's not sleepy, like let's say he's in the middle of playing a video game and you suddenly decided to dive into his arms, he'll automatically envelope his arms around you. he still might not ask tbh lmao but if you tell him why you're in his arms, he'd become so cuddly he might as well become Bunbun

- "i'm glad to hear that." his words might be simple but he really will be overjoyed about it. he literally spent centuries just to be by your side, doing everything in his power just to keep you and your precious heart beating, even if it meant possibly seeing you fall for someone else. and so he'll never take for granted the fact that you chose him, time and time again. knowing that you feel safe in his arms, xavier will continue to fight anything to keep it that way

rafayel

- like sylus, he'd drop a playful remark at first too. if he sees you running to him, let's say while in the middle of painting, he'd open his arms wide open to catch you and then act like a hostage once you wrap your arms around him. "wha — what are you doing of all a sudden? is this a trick?" but he wouldn't dare to move away. not when you look so peaceful in his arms.

- "it's nothing. i just feel safe here." rafayel will become a blushing mess, you know how he gets. "that's my line, miss bodyguard." rafayel has always felt safe with you. after all, you are is anchor, his beloved bride. he's the happiest and most comfortable with you.

- so for you to say the same back to him, rafayel will definitely be surprised for a minute, repeating your words over and over again until it clicks. then he'd tighten his hold on you as the feeling of pride and content overwhelms him

- he'll absolutely hold you for as long as possible. he will attempt to paint while hugging you, do not underestimate his skills. in fact, hearing your words might just motivate him to paint a whole different, newly-inspired art piece, because now his heart feels warm and racing. he feels like he can do anything. you, out of all people, feels safe in his arms? he feels invincible. fishie's vibrating with joy just a little. but oh no, maybe he can't work in this condition, after all. mc, let's go out for a walk ~

[h66nki]

give me one ⋆. 𐙚 ̊ nishimura riki

a visit to your aunt's house implants a thought in ni-ki: you would be a good mother. warnings; dirty talk, suggestive.

ni-ki feels it inside him. it comes like a fleeting thought in his head: you'd make a good mom. the feeling only grows when he sees you with children and this helps confirm his theory.

he watches you play with your younger cousin. the little girl is very energetic and has you running around, chasing her, making you sit on the floor to put together puzzles, playing hide-and-seek.

he's lost count of how many games you've played to keep her entertained, and even though he also played along with you, there came a time when the girl's effusiveness tired him out. you didn't tire, though.

you seemed to love the girl so much that it was impossible for you to say no, agreeing to each and every one of her suggestions.

at one point during the busy afternoon, the little girl slipped and almost hit herself, causing her mother to scold her and make her burst into tears.

you quickly took her in your arms, picking her up and cradling her against your chest. the toddler cried, inconsolable, throwing a tantrum. you could handle it and quickly manage to calm her down with sweet whispers and sweet promises in her ear. ni-ki watched the scene with love and curiosity... maybe something more.

it seems to be so natural for you to deal with a child and his antics: it makes him think.

ni-ki doesn't waste the opportunity to have your full attention on him again, so when your cousin is calmer and more cheerful you return her to your aunt so they can spend time together while you go to the bathroom.

ni-ki disappears into the hallway like a shadow, not giving you enough time to close the door. he gets into the room with you and closes the door himself.

"love?" you ask, confused.

the boy pins you between his body and the sink, pressing himself against you. "there isn't a drop of sanity left in my body, and it's your fault," he complains.

you laugh at his dramatics, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. his hands grip your waist, holding you in place.

"what did i do now?"

"you look so beautiful playing with the baby... i can't stop thinking about what a great mother you'd make." your heart pounds inside your chest at the compliment. "give me one, please."

your eyes widen in disbelief. for a moment, you think you haven't heard correctly... that you've misinterpreted him.

"give you what?"

ni-ki hides his face in your neck, placing small kisses on your skin.

"a baby," he says. "let's have a baby."

your body trembles between his, his tongue tickling you. a baby? no way... you're both too young for such a responsibility.

"i... i don't think it's ideal right now," you try to refute, caressing the back of his neck as you let him kiss you.

"please..." he begs. "i never ask for anything, just give me a baby, please." and he's right. ni-ki never asks you for anything, but can you give him this? "let me fuck you a baby deep inside you."

"ni-ki..."

you feel him breathe shakily in your ear. his large hand moves to your lower abdomen, resting it there. "imagine a baby here... a child of ours."

you bite your lower lip, trying not to make a sound. he's hard against you, you can feel it.

"you would look so beautiful with your swollen stomach... everyone would know that you love me so much that you let me fill you with my cum... that you let me breed you to bear the fruit of our love."

"don't say those things..." you try to stop him, but his words have an effect on you that you can't deny, not even if you really wanted to.

his eyes look at you, filled with hope.

"we would be the best parents in the world... just you, me... and a beautiful little girl... healthy, precious, and intelligent like her mommy."

"a girl...?" you repeat with hope. you feel persuaded; you don't know if it's because of the conversation or his kisses... maybe because of everything. ni-ki looks so cute begging that it would be inhuman not to have a little doubt about your initial thought.

"a baby girl," he affirms. ni-ki hides his face in the hollow of your shoulder again. he breathes shakily, excitedly. "please, let me fill you now... give me a little princess."

[cherie-doll]

LADS: When You Don't Give Them A Kiss

༻ Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb ༺

₊˚✧ Xavier loves his goodnight kisses. Won't be able to sleep right if you don't give them to him. Which is why he immediately frowned the moment you turned away from him after only saying good night. He had already leaned in closer for you to kiss him when you had cut him off. He's frozen in place, surprised at seeing you laying your head on your pillow without a care in the world; ready to drift off to sleep. But how can you do that to him? Surely you aren't forgetting something? I mean, it's custom by now, you do it every night. It's embedded in his brain to do this, so why are you suddenly being so forgetful. He hesitates but eventually moves in closer, nuzzling into your neck as his arms come around your waist. You complain that it's too hot for him to be doing this, but his response is something along the lines of "too bad". You forgot something important to him so now deal with the consequences; he'll be all up on you throughout the entire night.

₊ ೀ Zayne has a strict routine as a doctor. He wakes up early despite having prepared everything the night before, and as organized as he is, he cannot leave without first feeling your lips on his. It's literally his number one priority every morning before he leaves. He can go the day with forgetting his lunch, or even combing his hair properly, but can no longer wait until he gets to you later that night. Sometimes you'll sleep in and not wake up to give him a kiss and he'll try hanging back hoping you awaken before he has to walk out the door. He's sat at the edge of the bed, his work clothes on and everything ready but just clinging to the hope you remember. And no he won't wake you up, he isn't careless and he'll feel bad if he does. As a hunter, you need that rest and he prioritizes that before his selfish desires.

༄༢ུ࿓ Rafayel will actually do his job for once and go to an art exhibition that Thomas has arranged for him if you give him a kiss. Sort of like a good luck type of thing that makes him feel like things will be tolerable if he remembers the warmth of your lips on his. But this time he's stuck waiting by the front door, tapping his foot against the floor as he impatiently waits for you to return. He brings out his phone to reread the message you had sent, you had gone out and were expected to come back in time to accompany him to art exhibition. But it seems you're running late and Rafayel isn't in the mood to meet up with you there. You call him and are immediately greeted by his attitude. You can hear the slight whine in his voice when he asks why you're not there yet. Truthfully, you feel a little bad to hear him be so distressed. Perhaps you'll make it up to him later.

ᨳ᭬ Sylus isn't letting you off the hook so easily. You came up to him while he was relaxed to tell him you would be going out. As usual, you come up to his spot on the couch and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You tell him you'll be back later and he hums, acknowledging what you've said. But he furrows his brows, his smile disappearing when you just leave to grab your bag. He looks up from his phone to see you ready to take off when you catch his gaze. Oh, if he were more gullible he'd believe that "what's wrong?" face of yours. But he knows you better than that. You can sense the amusement in his voice when he asks "Aren't you forgetting something?". You cock your head trying to keep up the act a little longer before you give in. He had a smug look on his face, knew you wouldn't actually dare to leave his place before properly saying goodbye to him. Plus you would never hear the end of it if Luke and Kieran found out.

❦ Caleb would probably believe your act for a minute max before realizing you're teasing him. After not seeing each other for a couple of days due to your busy schedules, surely a hug isn't all he's getting... right? Your bright smile won't distract him from what he's really after. You feign confusion when you realize his grip on you isn't loosening as you try to pull away from his embrace. You call out his name, annoyed as you make more of an effort to push him away. You're secretly fighting a smile from forming when he only pulls you closer. You huff, telling him to stop teasing you, but he swears it's you who's doing the teasing. He sways side to side with you in his arms, you think about how ridiculous you must look and catch some people staring and hear them exclaim about what a cute couple you two are. Finally, when you no longer want to deprive him you stand as straight as you can to reach his face and give him a kiss. He lets you go after and looks at you, "was that really so hard to do?"

[websterss]

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…"

[chanandlersstuff]

Three times where Anakin’s jealousy was harmless, even fun, and one when it wasn't.

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader/OFC.

Summary: Every time he sees her across the room and forgets to breathe, forgets that damn code that complicates his life. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s beauty, power, and temptation wrapped in one impossible woman, and everyone wants her, but she only burns for him. Every time he sees her with someone else, Anakin’s composure cracks a little more.

Word count: 7.141

Warnings: Anakin, a warning itself. A little bit of smut, not graphic, there, toxicity there, jealousy, a creep, violence and blood. (let me know if i miss something).

Author’s note: Hiii, two times in one day, count yourselves lucky. First time writting for our sweet beloved Ani.

This is inspired by hours and hours of clone wars and this tiktok. It goes without saying that all this is fictional, I don't want to upseat anyone, this is for fun.

With that being said, enjoy, hope you like it. Lots of love, ME.

(gif credits to the owner)

The air was thick with expensive perfume, velvet words and politics. Senators with fabricated smiles moved like currents through golden light, their laughter overlapping with the soft strings of the Nabooian quartet tucked into one corner of the ballroom. Glasses clinked. Conversations sparkled. 

Anakin felt her before she even entered the hall properly. The soft tug in his chest told him she was close, and when she stepped into view, adorned in metallic green robes that kissed the floor, hugged her curves and shimmered as she moved, he nearly forgot to breathe. 

And so did everyone else. 

She looked like a whispered sin.

Men turned. Women glanced. Senators whispered. Generals approached her. Every damn set of eyes in that room followed her. Of course they did because she looked like the brightest star of them all. 

Anakin could feel them, sense their intentions as they approached her with too-wide smiles like the itch of static across his skin. Their attention wasn’t polite, it was hungry.

His eyes saw her having polite smiles, he heard her laughter, rare but dazzling, curved through the air like sunlight on water, and it struck him, standing across the room in ceremonial Jedi robes, how damn bright she was.

And how many men wanted to bask in her glow.

She was the kind of woman people gravitated toward. A quiet sun in the middle of a storm. A cathedral in a world of shacks, commanding awe. 

He stood across the ballroom, robed in Jedi formality, a guest and a ghost. His hands stayed folded behind his back, his expression neutral. But inside, he was seething as yet another advisor leaned just a little too close, whispering something into her ear that made her smile, and his fingers curled into a fist.

For hours, she moved like light across the floor, drawn into every orbit. People hoarded her attention, called her name, asked for things, fed off her warmth. She smiled, laughed, and even joked. All while never looking at him. Not even once.

Then it happened, some Republic attaché leaned in to say something, too close, and she turned her head to hear him better, her shoulder brushing his chest. His hand hovered just behind her waist. Not touching, not quite.

But Anakin felt it, felt the heat surge like a detonation in his chest. A sharp, hot pang hit low in his gut.

He hadn’t touched her in weeks, some mission in some Outer Rim dustbowl, he couldn’t even remember the name now. All he could think about in that moment was the ghost of her skin under his callus fingers, soft, smooth, velvet-warm and seared into his memory like a brand.

And now others were close enough to smell her perfume.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, willing the fire down, but it simmered. Oh, it simmered. Another man stepped up to her side, clearly emboldened. Flirting again. Anakin’s knuckles whitened behind his back.

She plucked the flower the man offered her, twirled it between her fingers, and, finally, looked up. Across the room, past every other face. Right at him and her smile changed. Slow. Private. Not for anyone else. She knew what she was doing and she loved it. He could feel the pulse of her amusement, soft and golden behind her ribcage, glowing just for him.

And that was enough to cool the burn. For now.

She excused herself a few moments later, slipping away with the tail of her gown floating behind her, weaving through polished diplomats and oblivious senators. He waited precisely ten seconds before following, every step practiced restraint.

The cool night air of Coruscant swept over the balcony, a quiet haven away from the noise and glitter of the gala. The hum of air traffic and muffled music were distant, irrelevant things. All Anakin saw, all he ever saw, even in his dreams, was her.

She leaned against the railing like she owned the city, like the stars were her playthings. The wind caught her hair just enough to make him ache.

“You looked cozy in there,” he said, voice low, sharp at the edges. “Your... fan club seemed enthusiastic tonight.”

She didn’t turn. Just let the silence stretch, knowing it’d get to him. It always did.

“Fan club?” she echoed at last, tone light, teasing. “Sounds like jealousy, Skywalker.”

Anakin scoffed and folded his arms. “Interesting choice of company tonight. You always did like the dramatic types.”

She turned, one brow lifted. “You mean politicians?”

“I mean men who seem to forget that you are clearly out of their league.” He stepped closer, boots nearly silent, heat radiating off him in waves.

“You know,” she continued, tilting her head slightly to the side, “if I do have a fan club, I’m pretty sure you started it. That whole brooding stare-from-across-the-room thing? Very compelling.”

His jaw ticked. “Right. I’ll remember to blink next time I watch you let half the Senate fall in love with you.”

Her eyes glittered as she turned to face him. “You were watching.”

“You knew I was.”

“Practically vibrating,” she teased. “If you glared any harder, you’d have ignited the Chancellor’s carpet.”

The Force crackled faintly between them, quiet, intimate, like the brush of fingers on bare skin. He didn’t have to reach for her emotions; they poured into him like sunlight and wildfire. She was amused. Charged. Testing him.

She took a step closer. Barely there, but it was enough. “Maker, you’re jealous,” she murmured, delighted at how much tension it was in his jaw and arms. “That’s adorable.”

That did it.

In one smooth, sudden motion, Anakin pressed her back into the shadows of the balcony, out of sight. Her breath caught as the cold stone met part of her spine and his body followed, flush against hers, every line of him pressed with unrelenting intent, the warmth of his palm burning the small of her back. His metallic hand caught her jaw, tilting her face up, not rough, but firm.

His eyes burned gold in the dark as the shadows wrapped them in silence, covering their secret. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to touch you when they do?” he hissed, breath hot against her cheek. “Not to shout that you’re mine?”

She smiled slowly, challenging. “You don’t need to shout.”

He growled softly, teeth clenched. “Right, because you’re the one who loves to be loud.”

She didn’t deny it. “I love to shout your name,” she purred as her fingers found his belt, tugging him even closer.

Their mouths crashed together in a kiss that had no business being soft. It was hot, messy, desperate, brutal in its restraint. Tongues sliding, biting, fighting for dominance, hands gripping wherever they could, pulling the other deeper, like the weeks apart hadn’t worn their restraint down to shreds.

He groaned into her mouth when she bit his lip, and she gasped when he pressed his big leg slid between hers with sinful precision, and Anakin swallowed the sound greedily.

The world outside didn’t exist. There was only this, this fire, this want, this ache they weren’t allowed to name. And the Force around them swirled, tight and humming, their shared emotions tangling like limbs in the dark. Possession. Desire. Frustration. Love, blistering and untouchable. 

They kissed like they were starving. Like they might not get the chance again. Like it wasn’t enough to be his in secret, she wanted to be his in blood, in breath, in everything.

When they finally pulled apart, panting, her lipstick smudged, his hair a mess, and her dress rumpled, he still didn’t move.

He leaned his forehead to hers, eyes closed, hand on her cheek now, softer. But the tremble in his chest hadn’t gone.

“You are mine,” Anakin whispered.

Somewhere inside, he knew this was dangerous.

But her hand running in his hair, tugging softly, her lips swollen and smirking beneath his, and the feeling of her emotions bleeding into his own, her heart thudding against his. “Always.”

It all made him reckless.

Made him Anakin.

The halls of the Jedi Temple bathed in a golden wash of sunlight that stretched through high windows. It was a sanctuary, quiet and disciplined, above any kind of distraction. 

Anakin stood with his arms crossed, flanked by a line of teen knights finishing saber drills under his supervision. The hum and clash of practice blades echoed through the open-air courtyard, mid morning sun painting golden light across the pale stone floors.

He was focused, they all were. Until he wasn’t anymore.

A tug. It started like a subtle itch in his chest. That familiar flutter of energy in the Force that only she caused. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly. Then came the whispers. The laughter. The telltale shift in attention that shouldn’t be happening in a Temple. 

Anakin turned and there she was. She had always made a mockery of Jedi rules just by simply existing.

She moved through the courtyard like a comet, bright, elegant, entirely out of place and somehow right there. The sun kissed her skin and made her glow. Hair swept back, face glowing, wearing that rich blue gown that fitted her like a globe and stole breaths left and right. 

Poor young Jedis, they barely stood a chance.

He watched, arms still crossed, as they began to trip over themselves for her, far too eagerly.

A taller knight stumbled forward, lightsaber already off, bowing too low. “Senator, would you care for a demonstration?”

Another, younger, grinned, straightening his robes with unnecessary flair, puffed up his chest and opened his mouth to talk, but was cut short by a third that stepped in beside her, charming and overly familiar. “Senator,” he said, smirking, offering his arm. “Perhaps I could escort you to the Grand Hall? The Temple’s layout can be disorienting, after all.” 

“Actually,” another interrupted, “I was just about to take my morning walk, can I show you the gardens?”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. The younger knights, barely past their trials, surrounded her like moths to flame. Soon, he was sure the entire practice floor was about to break in spontaneous combat displays.

They were all smiles and flushed cheeks, tripping over each other for a chance to impress her but all she did was smile politely, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. 

Anakin moved, dangerously calm, all coiled control and silent warning. The kind of movement that sliced through space like a saber unsheathed, needing no sound to be final. He stepped into view like a storm rolling over a bright sky. Shadows clung to his silhouette, jaw set, blue eyes hard. He towered over the young knights who were still mid-stammer and mid-swoon.

Her eyes found his instantly and a smile, bright, amused, knowing exactly what this was, appeared on her tempting lips. “General Skywalker,” she greeted, honey-smooth and just this side of smug.

“Senator,” he said, voice all clipped politeness, but there was a glint in his eye only she could read. “You’re expected elsewhere. Please—come with me.”

It wasn’t a request. Not really.

She tilted her head, clearly entertained, and followed without protest. Behind her, the poor knights stood shell-shocked and heartbroken.

Anakin took her the long way, through narrow passages and shadow-laced halls that only he would know. Hidden corridors carved into the Temple’s bones, tucked from sight and sound. No one followed. No one dared. No one ever did when he didn’t want them to.

The tension thrummed between them. Unspoken. Electric. She could feel it through the thread they never dared name. That quiet, intimate current that pulsed like a live wire between their hearts. It made her skin prickle and her mouth curl.

“You’re brooding,” she said lightly, brushing his hand with hers.

“They were drooling,” he replied, jaw clenched, walking too fast.

She laughed softly. “You’re a menace.” Force humming quietly between them in familiar warmth. 

He didn’t deny it. Just opened the door to his quarters and tilted his head towards the inside. His eyes burned hotter than the twin suns. “They were idiots.”

“They were children,” she said, shrugging off her shawl. “It was flattering, sure. But harmless.”

She stepped into his space and reached for his tunic, smoothing invisible wrinkles just for the excuse to touch him.

His hands found her waist like magnets, urgent, desperate. Like his world only started spinning when she was close. Like he’d been starving for the feel of her. “You’re mine,” he muttered, voice rough, low.

The second she pressed against him, the tension snapped. His shoulders dropped and his breath hitched. She always did this to him, only she ever could.

The smile she gave him lit up every star in his chest.

“Possessive much?” she teased, lifting her gaze beneath her lashes. Her hand rested against his chest, gentle pressure just over his heart. “You’re lucky that’s sexy.”

“They don’t even see you,” he growled, lips brushing the edge of her jaw as he inhaled her. “Not really. Not like I do.”

Her fingers slid into his hair, threading through the waves of his hair, soft and slow. His anger began to dissolve under her touch.

“I know that,” she whispered, grounding him. “You don’t have to prove anything, Ani.” Her lips brushed his, featherlight. “I only have eyes for one Jedi Knight,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

A sharp breath left his lungs, forehead pressed to hers. He didn’t speak. Just stood there and felt her. Let her presence, her truth, her kiss soften all the edges. As it always did.

“You’re the only one,” she said, voice softer now, brushing her lips against his. “The only one who gets to take me home.”

He said nothing. He just clenched his jaw and looked at her like she was the entire galaxy, beautiful, untouchable, and he didn’t know how to protect her from it without claiming her. But he was ready to go to the end of time to keep her safe, even if it meant destroying himself in the process.

She kissed him, soft and slow, with reverence, her thumb brushed along his jaw and his hands finally moved. One slid around her lower back, the other tangled in her hair, cradling her like something both sacred and dangerous.

“You were planning to come early,” he said, voice rasping low. “Just to see me.”

She smiled against his lips. “Took you long enough to figure it out, my love.”

He kissed her, deeper, hungrier. Less about proving, more about having. Reverence disguised as hunger. Possession disguised as devotion.

They didn’t speak again for a while. Not when she tugged him toward his bed. Not when his hands ran down her back like he was mapping out the constellations of her skin. Not when his mouth marked her skin like scripture. Not when she gasped his name like it anchored her. Not when he murmured her name like a prayer. And definitely not when the Force pulsed around them, holding the world at bay.

She had come early and now, thanks to him, she’d come more than once… And would definitely be late to her meeting, with love bites and traces of him in places only he could see later in the night.

But that had always been the danger, with her, time bent, it didn’t really matter. The world waited. Only she existed.

And if anyone asked, well, he was General Skywalker. And no one dared question him.

She was trying to work. Key word, trying. Because trying didn’t stand a chance when Anakin Skywalker was in the room. Her focus kept going to him.

He wasn’t even doing anything, not really. Just existing, sprawled across the soft seating like it was his throne, golden and smug. His presence filled the space like a storm fills the horizon, vast and crackling, impossible to ignore. She could feel him under her skin, behind her ribs, humming through her bloodstream even with five feet and a desk between them.

And he knew it, of course he did, he could feel the effect he had on her.

“You know,” he said casually, leaning back and resting the back of his head in his intertwined fingers, “we should go away.”

She didn’t look up from her datapad. “Go away?”

“A vacation.” He was already picturing it, voice wrapped in sunlight. “Just the two of us. There’s a place, far, far from here, remote, beautiful, where no one would recognize us.” He looked at her. “I will be like we are an actual couple instead of Senator and Jedi.”

Her fingers paused above the screen, the weight of the idea pressing into her chest like warmth. She could see it too, for a moment. Feel it like a dream she wanted to believe in.

“I would love nothing more,” she said honestly. “But I can’t, Ani.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” he sat up, affronted, like she’d personally insulted the sun. “It’s two weeks. The Senate can survive without you. Miraculously, I know.”

She sighed, still not looking at him. “I’m sure it can. But I have propositions to review, bills to finalize, votes to prepare. Important meetings—”

He stepped around her desk and popped a dramatic hip like the galaxy's most petulant god. “More important than me?”

She narrowed her eyes, slow and sharp. “You know exactly what you mean to me.”

“Do I?” he said dramatically, crossing his arms and turning around like a tragic holo actor. “Because right now it feels like my heart is being shoved to the bottom of your schedule.”

She let out a breath and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands across her stomach as she studied him.

“Our love is everything to me,” she said carefully. “But my work matters too. It matters for people who don’t have the luxury of sneaking away. Our work matters, Anakin. What we do matters.”

“To me there’s nothing more important than you,” he said standing there with his back to her, arms crossed like a storm cloud, radiating disappointment in dramatic waves.

She stared at his back, lips twitching. “That better not be a pout.”

“No,” he grumbled, “it’s… noble heartbreak.”

She laughed softly, Maker help her, she adored this ridiculous man. “You’re such a menace.”

“And yet here you are,” he said, not turning around. “Still not on vacation with me.”

She stood, walked towards him and slid her hands around his waist, resting her chin between his shoulder blades. “What can I do to prove to you that you matter the most to me?”

“The damage is already done,” he said with great theatrical flair.

A laugh almost escaped her lips, but she pushed it back, and in a swift motion she stood in front of him. Her fingers found his jaw, warm, strong, and tilted his face down to hers.

“My sweet sweet Ani,” she whispered, her lips slow, hot, reverent, against his, making him melt, just a little. “If you want proof,” she murmured, “then let me show you what you mean to me.”

She kissed him, soft and deep, hands threading through his hair possessively, it silenced every protest he thought about making. 

The kiss was heated, frantic, like they’d been starving for each other and finally allowed to feast. It was instant combustion. No slow burn, no delicate teasing. Just raw need, all fire and ache and knowing. He exhaled into her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair, then moved down to her waist, clutching like gravity itself had shifted and he was grounding himself. 

When her mouth grazed his neck, what was left of his composure unraveled like silk. She tasted like stars and defiance. He kissed her like she was air and flame all at once. The fire she lit inside him was hers alone to command.

He walked them back, blindly, not breaking the kiss, not once, her mouth still pressed to his, until she hit the bookshelf. He pinned her there, one hand cradling her head so she wouldn’t knock into the shelves. Books toppled behind them like falling stars as his mouth found her throat, her collarbone, her name falling from his lips like a prayer he’d been dying to say.

She gasped, breathless and burning, and he kissed her harder, like he needed to brand himself into her soul.

Then he moved again, his hands were already back on her, mapping the lines of her body like sacred territory. He knew every curve, every reaction, how she’d shiver when he kissed just below her jaw, how her breath caught when his fingers traced her spine. They collided again, lips bruising, hands insistent.

But it wasn’t just need, it was knowing. The kind of knowing that came from worship and war, from battles fought side by side and promises whispered in the dark. 

When the desk hit the backs of her thighs, he lifted her onto the desk, the other shooting out to sweep everything off the surface in one violent motion, datapads, files, a stylus, a small potted plant, all crashing to the floor as if the whole galaxy could wait while his was mouth still on hers, and she pulled him in like gravity had given up and left only them. They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, sharp gasps, soft moans, whispered names, a symphony of want and devotion echoing off polished wood and walls that had seen too much and still not enough.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels locking at the small of his back, pulling him into her, into this, and he thrust into her, the sound she made shattered him. Her head fell back, exposing her throat, and he kissed it reverently, like a knight bent before a goddess. 

She was wrapped around him, tangled in his body like ivy on stone. Her hands were in his hair, his tunic, her voice in his ear, guiding him, worshipping him. His mouth dragged over her neck, her chest, every place that made her tremble.

His hands moved over her body like he knew every inch of her in his bones, because he did. He didn’t fumble. He didn’t guess. He knew her like he knew the hilt of his saber, like breath, like instinct. He knew what would make her gasp, what would make her moan, what would unravel her completely. And she gave herself to it, to him, because she knew him just the same.

When the desk groaned in protest, he lifted her into his arms, and she laughed breathlessly against his mouth as he carried her to the little velvet sofa, limbs tangled, breathing ragged. He continued to worship her there, whispering her name like it was a secret spell that bound the universe together. She pulled him in with her eyes, with her hands, with the soft, broken sound she only ever made for him.

Every movement, every sound, every glance between them was instinct, history, devotion. They didn’t have to speak. They knew.

And when they finally collapsed on the floor, sweaty, undone, breathless and wrecked and more whole than ever, he hovered over her, brushing damp hair from her face, his heart pounding against hers.

“You are everything to me,” she whispered, cupping his cheek.

His lips curved into a crooked smile as he pressed his forehead to hers. “No,” he murmured. “We’re everything.”

The gala was crowded, loud, and glittering with too much fake gold and not enough sincerity. She floated through it like she always did, charming, gracious, intelligent. Every word laced with purpose and diplomacy. She was dazzling, magnetic. Untouchable.

Anakin had been watching her from across the room, he always is, with admiration, with love blossoming in his chest, but tonight his jaw was clenched so tightly it could shatter in any moment. 

Senator Vanto of Andosha was practically glued to her side, as he had seemed to be lately. He had been circling for weeks like a blood-slicked nexu. It started with a look across the Senate, followed by sugar-drenched pleasantries echoing in marble halls and smiles that lasted a second too long, then a fleeting compliment with a lingering hand on her back. Then he started to get more bold, a too-close whisper over a datapad, every time she laughed the man leaned in closer, taking every possible opportunity to have a hand on her, his eyes devouring her like a predator savoring the kill.

Anakin had seen it all, every touch, every glance from the Senator over the last few weeks, and it burned through him like acid, each and every single time, and she didn’t see it. Or worse, she refused to.

Now, in that glittering cage, every time he even breathed close to her, every time she flashed that too-perfect public smile, Anakin’s vision blurred at the edges. And when the senator started parading around with a hand on the small of her back, his filthy hand on her smooth velvety skin, fingers grazing the open back of her gown like he had the right, like he could, Anakin’s blood boiled.

And she, she laughed, not her real laugh, the one she gave him in quiet moments beneath tangled sheets, but the polite one she wore in public. It didn’t matter. It burned all the same. 

Without a word, he turned on his heel, strides clipped and purposeful. He didn’t care who saw. Let the whole damn Senate speculate. Let them whisper. He didn’t care. He launched his fighter and left.

By the time she got home, the apartment was dark. Cold. But not silent. Anakin was there, pacing like a caged animal, shoulders tight with barely restrained fury.

She didn’t even get her shoes off before the storm hit. “Something wrong Ani?” she asked, the door barely clicking shut behind her.

He turned, the heat in his eyes sparking like wildfire. “You really have to ask?”

She blinked at him, confused, tension curling at the edge of her spine. “I don’t understand.” She frowned, “If you’re upset about something, say it. Don’t just, brood,” she said, unwinding the earrings from her lobes. 

“I’m not brooding,” he snapped. “I’m trying very hard not to explode.”

She scoffed. “Well, you’re doing a terrible job.”

“Just like you were at keeping Senator Vanto’s filthy hands off you,” he said, sarcasm dripping like venom. 

Her breath caught. “Are you really going to start again?” she snapped, looking at him through the mirror in the room, pulling the pins from her hair, letting it tumble over her back. “I’ve told you, he’s a colleague. That’s all.”

Anakin stood dead center in the room, arms stiff at his sides, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. “A colleague who practically breathes down your neck every time you’re in the same room. And you let him!”

Her laugh was cold, sharp. “Let him? You think I let him?”

“I don’t think,” he said, voice jagged. “I saw you with my own eyes!”

“I was doing my job!” she said loudly, turning towards him. “Talking, negotiating, building rapport, which is what I’ve always done. What do you want me to do, Anakin? Be rude? Push him away in front of the entire Senate chamber just to make  you feel better? Throw a drink in his face and declare I belong to you?” 

“I’m asking you to see it,” he bit out. “He touches you like he owns you.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” she yelled, sharply and coldly. 

“I thought you said you were mine,” he said, lower now, his voice breaking at the edges.

“I’m not a possession, Anakin.”

“No,” he said, quieter, rawer. “But you are mine, just as I’m yours, because we chose each other. Because what we have is real. And he’s trying to take you from me,” he said, touching his chest.

Her laugh then wasn’t cold, it was shattered. “You sound insane.”

He stepped closer, too close. “And you sound blind.”

The room froze.

Her face hardened, voice tightening like she was holding back something sharp. “Do you hear yourself right now? He’s not the problem here, Anakin. You are.”

That cracked something in him, clean through the middle, cracking his chest open.

“No,” he said, voice rising. “I’m the one who’s stuck waiting while he gets to stand beside you, hover over you, touch you. Me, the man that has loved you since the first time he saw you, who would burn the galaxy down just to keep you safe, gets crumbs behind closed doors! So excuse me if I’m sick of pretending this doesn’t bother me!”

Her heart stung like it had been slapped. “You think this is easy for me? Hiding, lying, splitting myself in two just to make this work—”

“Then maybe it’s not worth it,” he snapped.

She flinched, like he’d hit her. Her mouth opened, then closed, her voice caught behind the pressure building in her chest. 

The silence that followed was instant and total. The air turned to glass between them, fragile, sharp, suffocating, waiting to shatter.

Her voice dropped to just a whisper. “Is that really how you feel?”

He faltered. He didn’t mean it. But pride, stupid, stubborn pride, held his tongue hostage and wouldn’t let him soften. “Maybe it is.”

Her breath hitched, then turned away from him, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “Then go,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, holding herself together with the last thread of her control she had before shattering.

Anakin didn’t move, said nothing. His jaw ticked, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. He stared at her back for a long moment, at the way her shoulders rose and fell like she was holding it together, barely.

He wanted to take it back. Maker, he wanted to. He wanted to cross the galaxy that appeared between them and fix it, he wanted to hold her and not go.

But he didn’t, and instead turned on his heel and walked out, again. Jumping on his fighter and going away, leaving her in the quiet wreckage of their home.

The silence echoed through the apartment like a thunderclap as she stood there, still in her gown, her earrings in her hand, hair loose caressing her back, and shaking. The lights hummed softly above her. The room felt cavernous without him in it.

And all she could do was stand there, alone, tears pulling in her eyes, surrounded by the wreckage of what they’d built, and wonder, maybe this time, they’d broken something they couldn’t fix.

A full day passed.

She hadn’t moved much, buried under blankets, curtains drawn to shut out the light that mocked her with its warmth. Her datapad buzzed every few hours with messages and alerts, unanswered. The Senate could wait. The galaxy could wait. For the first time in years, she let herself unravel. The senator, the leader, the unshakable voice of reason, reduced to someone wrapped in silence and tears. There was the steady hum of sorrow beneath her skin and the raw ache of something lost, sobs coming and going in waves, breaking through moments of numb silence. She tried to hate him. Tried to hate herself. Neither feeling stuck. Only grief for what might already be gone did.

By late afternoon, the tears had run dry, replaced by something hollow. She pulled herself out of bed, her muscles aching like she had fought a war in her sleep. The shower steamed the mirror, the water was hot, steady, cleansing, grounding her just enough to feel like maybe she could start over.

Maybe.

But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

She was wrapping her robe around her when the knock came. She frowned, confused. No one was supposed to visit. The few people who might, had the good sense not to.

When she opened the door, Senator Vanto stood there.

Concern painted across his features like a poor artist’s attempt at sincerity. “You weren’t at the Senate today,” he said, stepping inside uninvited. “People were asking. I was worried that you perhaps were ill.”

She blinked, unsettled. “I... wasn’t feeling well.”

He smiled, taking a slow, familiar step toward her. “I figured as much. I thought maybe I could help. Maybe you needed someone to talk to.” His eyes dragged over her, landing on her exposed collarbone where the robe dipped. “Or just someone.”

A chill slid down her spine and she tightening the piece of clothing around her.

She moved toward the sitting area, creating distance, hoping he’d take the hint. “Thank you for your concern, but really, I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said smoothly, following her, “but maybe it’s time you stop pretending you don’t need anyone.”

He looked her over, the flush skin, her bare legs, her wet hair. “You need someone who can take care of you,” He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. 

She stepped back, discomfort. Her skin prickled, but not the way it did when Anakin touched her. There was no warmth here, no tenderness. Just a creeping, nauseating wrongness.

“I said I’m fine.” Again, she rounded the sitting area and tried to put as much distance between them as she could. 

But he followed, again, too closely, too comfortably. With every inch she gave, he took more.

“You’ve always kept yourself surrounded by politics, war, rules, men who are never really there for you. Jedi who disappear when it matters most.” He said it with meaning, with venom. “But not me,” he sat and pushed her to sit with him. “I wouldn’t leave you alone, not even for a second.”

Her knees hit the cushions before her mind registered what had happened. Her stomach turned. “Vanto—”

“I mean it.” His voice dropped. “You need a man who’s strong enough to handle you. Someone who knows what to do with a woman like you.” His eyes drifted down. “Someone who knows how to touch you.” His hand landed on her thigh, firm, possessive. 

Her blood froze. The hand was not delicate, not gentle. It burned. Her skin crawled under it.

“I can give you what he never could.” His voice slithered around her. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

She tensed, tried to inch away, but his hand gripped tighter. “Let go of me,” she pushed his hand away. “It’s time for you to go,” she said, standing sharply.

He stood too, moving in close, cornering her. “Come on, darling,” he said with a twisted smirk on his lips. 

She backed up. Her robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, she yanked it up with trembling fingers.

“You can stop pretending now. No one’s watching.” His hand caught her arm.

She yanked back. “Don’t touch me.”

But he didn’t stop and his grip tightened. “I’ve seen the way you look at me—”

“There’s no way I look at you,” she snapped, breath catching. “Let go of me.”

“No more playing game,” he smirked again.

“Stop it—” she twisted, trying to break free.

“No more hiding.” His other hand gripped her side, fingers digging through the thin robe like claws.

She gasped. “Please, no.”

The fear started creeping up her throat like acid.

Her skin was on fire where he touched her, not in the way Anakin lit her nerves with heat and reverence, but like poison seeping into her bones.

“You’ve got no one here but me.”

She whimpered, voice cracking. “I said no—please don’t—”

He leaned in, tried to kiss her.

She twisted, shoved against him, her voice shaking, heart in her throat. “I said no—!”

And then—The door burst open with a crash.

A wind tore through the room as if the stars themselves had followed him in.

Anakin stood there, eyes burning, jaw locked, the fury of a thousand suns radiating off of him. His voice was low, guttural, animalistic.

“Get. Away. From her.”

Vanto startled, letting go just long enough for her to stumble back. She shoved him hard, scrambling to the other side of the room.

And before she could even breathe, Anakin crossed the room in three strides. The Force lifted Vanto off the ground like he weighed nothing, like a ragdoll, choking him mid-air. His feet kicked helplessly as Anakin stalked forward.

“You dare to touch her,” Anakin growled, his voice was cold. Controlled, but barely. 

He threw him against a wall and with his free hand, took his lightsaber and ignited with a snap-hiss of blue death. “You hurt her.” His face was carved in stone, his rage blistering, terrifying, as he pointed with his saber at him.

“Try fighting like a man,” Vanto stood up, coughing. “Without your Jedi tricks.”

Anakin’s lips twitched. A slow, dangerous smile, not at all kind. “Oh, it would be my pleasure.”

The saber shut off with a snap, and he launched forward.

The fight was brutal. No rules, no honor, just raw and animalistic fury unleashed in the flicker of a heartbeat. 

She stood frozen, robe clenched tightly around her trembling frame, breath caught in her chest as she watched the man she loved, her sweet Ani, unravel.

Anakin was a storm, all fire and anguish and vengeance, striking with the kind of force that only came from years of buried grief, unspoken heartbreak and possessive love in every strike. Metal met flesh with a sickening precision. Blood splattered. Vanto swung wildly and desperate, landing a few hits, but they barely registered. 

Anakin was relentless, built for combat. Designed for it. He wasn’t born like that, for war, but he was made into it. War had carved him into a weapon, he was honed by pain, but underneath the fury still lived the boy who once only wanted to protect the people he loved. And now, seeing her hurt, that boy was screaming and the man he had become answered with rage.

“Anakin, stop!” she cried, breathless, panic bleeding into every syllable. “Don’t—please, he’s not worth it!”

In the chaos, as she tried to break them apart, to stop the devastation, Vanto’s fist swung. It wasn’t meant for her. But it found her anyway. It hit her, colliding with her cheek, sharp and brutal.

The sound, sickening, wrong, echoed through the room like a thunderclap. She gasped, stumbled, a cry of pain tearing from her throat as she crashed into the side table and fell. The thud of her body hitting the floor split the air.

Everything stopped. He punched her. She was on the ground, pain flashing in her glassy eyes, blood on her hand and a cut in her porcelain skin.

The sound she made, that wounded sound, more raw than war, more real than anything he’d ever heard, broke something in him so violently that his breath left him in a single, strangled gasp. 

The world narrowed and all he saw was her, his word had fallen hurt and all his anger turned to something worse. 

She was hurt. Because he hadn’t stopped it. Because he hadn’t been fast enough. Because he had left and was almost too late, again.

That was it, he snapped. 

Anakin tackled Vanto with everything he had, not as a Jedi, but as a man who had seen the only thing that kept him sane, the source of his happiness, hurt and afraid. There was no humanity left as he charged. The punches came fast, the anger white-hot. He didn’t hear Vanto’s protests, and didn't care because all he saw was a danger to her. He threw him across the room, pinned him again, and hit him harder.

All he felt was heartbreak made flesh, striking out at the thing that dared hurt what mattered most to him.

Every hit said: You don’t touch her. Every hit said: You don’t get to make her afraid.  Every hit said: She is mine to protect.

Only when Vanto was unmoving, groaning, bleeding, broken on the floor, did Anakin stop.

He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, fists trembling with fury. His eyes were wild, dark with something primal, something unbearable. A small whimper reached his ears and he turned around. She was still on the floor, broken and shaken.

The door opened again. Security. Too late.

Anakin rushed to her side, kneeling, hands shaking as he cupped her face. “Are you okay?” His voice cracked, desperate. “Look at me. Tell me you’re okay, please.”

He touched her cheek, gently, like she was made of light and grief and might vanish or shatter if he pressed too hard, and she whimpered at the contact. It wasn’t fear this time, nor pain. But because something in her had broken open, and he was the only one who could hold it together.

“This is all on me,” he breathed, horror and panic folding into his voice. His eyes burned, rimmed red. “Maker, forgive me—” His breath stuttered. “I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve—”

Her wide, tear-glossed eyes met his. “You came back,” she whispered, voice so small it broke him. Her trembling fingers touched his cheek, catching a tear as it slid down his face. “You came back right when I needed you.”

His face twisted with emotion, grief, relief, love that nearly broke him in two. “Of course I did,” he choked out. “I’ll always come back.”

Her lip quivered. “Don’t leave me again,” she pleaded. Her voice was broken, raw, but somehow softer.

He closed his eyes, forehead resting against hers, as if that could fuse them together and keep the world from breaking them again.

“Never,” he whispered, voice raw and aching. “My love, never.”

Behind them, security restrained Vanto’s broken, barely-conscious body. There was shouting. Movement. But none of it touched her. None of it touched him. But none of it mattered.

She leaned into Anakin’s touch, into the only thing that felt real, like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. And maybe it was. 

“Just hold me,” she whispered. “Hold me like only our love matters in this world. Hold me like only you know how to.”

Even if the fire of his rage still clung to him like a second skin, he was hers, and she was his. He was the safest place she had known. 

He was home.

Without a word, Anakin gathered her into his arms, carefully, reverently, as if she were made of sacred things. He held her like she was the only truth he’d ever known, the only fight that ever mattered.

And in that moment, with her curled against his chest, with her tears soaking his tunic and his heartbeat steady against her ear…

The galaxy could’ve ended, and neither of them would have noticed.