#robert thinking of new york or something

[gyugraphy]

the popcorn incident (r.r.)

synopsis : You hate Bob Reynolds. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself — ever since he pulled away and got closer to Yelena. Now you spend most of your time ranting about him to Bucky…

Meanwhile, Bob spends most of his time avoiding you. (Because he’s pretty sure you like Bucky. And he’s very sure he’s in love with you.)

pairing : robert 'bob' reynolds x reader / sentry x reader

content : pure fluff (again lol don't hate me on this), slight enemiestolovers!au , friendstolovers!au , jealous!bobreynolds

warning/s : kinda cheesy idk

word count : 4.6k

⋆˙⟡

You hate Bob Reynolds.

You hate the way he walks into a room and won’t look at you. You hate the way his eyes flicker toward you when he thinks you’re not watching. You hate how he always chooses the furthest seat from yours now, even though (once) you were the person he chose first.

And worst of all?

You hate how much you still want him to come sit next to you.

The common room smells like popcorn and vaguely burnt pizza. Ava’s cracked the windows again, letting in the cool night air from the New York sky outside. Dim overhead bulbs cast the room in warm yellow light that barely competes with the flickering horror movie on screen.

Yelena is curled on a beanbag chair with her legs tucked under her like a smug cat, hoodie two sizes too big. John’s hogging the recliner, a beer in one hand and his dumb Stars-and-Stripes socks visible from where his boots sit discarded nearby. Ava’s lounging in the corner with a bowl of gummy worms and a knowing smirk.

You walk in behind Bucky, both of you still talking about a mission briefing that had somehow turned into a discussion about raccoons with knives.

“Do not pretend a raccoon could take you down,” you mutter as Bucky snorts.

“I’m just saying, it’s more dangerous than you think,” Bucky deadpans. “Especially with a butter knife.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “I’m not the one who got chased through a compound last week by a genetically engineered goose.”

“That goose had rage in its soul,” you hiss, before realizing the entire room is listening. Yelena snorts into her sleeve. Ava just shakes her head.

You clear your throat, cheeks warm. Your eyes instinctively scan the room—and stop.

There. Couch. Right side.

Bob.

He’s sitting low, one leg crossed over the other knee, navy-blue sweater sleeves bunched up his forearms. His posture is slouched, but his eyes are sharp, focused on the screen, until you catch the briefest glance your way.

Your stomach tightens.

He looks back at the screen before you can even smile.

You hesitate, then move toward the couch. The big popcorn bowl is balanced between him and Bucky. You think about sitting next to Bob, think about all the nights you used to sit shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing, fingers grazing accidentally over the same handful of popcorn.

Maybe you can fix this. Maybe he’ll say something. Maybe this silence he’s been giving you for weeks will finally end.

You hover by the bowl. “Hey,” you say, careful and light. “Can I grab some?”

Bob doesn’t look at you. His hand tenses slightly on the bowl’s rim. He shifts it toward you in silence.

Your fingers brush his.

He pulls back like he’s touched a hot stove.

You feel it like a slap.

You grab the popcorn, mutter a stiff, “Thanks,” and move to sit next to Bucky instead.

Bucky shifts slightly to give you room. You slump beside him, chewing angrily.

“Well that was painful,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

You don’t respond.

“He flinched,” Bucky continues, almost in awe. “Like your fingers were poison.”

You keep your eyes on the screen. “Maybe they are.”

“Strike four,” he whispers.

You glance at him. “You’ve been keeping count?”

“Of every tragic interaction, yes.”

You throw a kernel of popcorn at him. He catches it mid-air.

You lean in slightly, voice low. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“I think he’s a dumbass.”

You smile, but it’s hollow.

“I just—don’t get it. We used to talk. Like… a lot. He used to laugh at my dumb jokes. Now he acts like I stole his dog.”

“Maybe you did.”

You blink. “What?”

“Maybe you stole his metaphorical dog.”

You stare at him. “That’s the worst theory I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s still better than yours,” Bucky mutters.

From across the couch, you feel Bob shift. You glance—he’s still watching the screen, but his fingers have stopped moving. The popcorn bowl rests untouched now, perfectly still in his lap.

The movie flickers into a tense silence.

Then John, voice flat, says, “Can the lovebirds quiet down?”

Your entire spine stiffens.

“Excuse me?” you hiss.

“Shh,” John says, not even turning.

You stare ahead, cheeks burning. Bucky looks halfway between smug and offended.

“Lovebirds,” he whispers, amused.

“Don’t even—”

“I mean, if the shoe fits…”

You elbow him sharply. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says, still smiling.

You risk another glance toward Bob.

His jaw is tight. His eyes are still on the screen. But there’s a twitch in his cheek. The kind he gets when something’s bothering him.

He doesn’t look at you.

You look away first.

⋆˙⟡

The meeting room is too cold.

The A/C’s on full blast, humming above the fluorescent lights. You swear Val keeps it that way just to remind you she’s in charge of everything—including your blood circulation.

You’re running late.

You shove the door open with a muttered apology, the metal creaking slightly, and step inside—boots still muddy from training. Your hair’s barely dry from your post-mission shower, damp strands sticking to your neck. You tug at the collar of your jacket, feeling both underdressed and overstimulated.

Everyone’s already seated.

Yelena’s halfway through a protein bar and somehow still managing to lounge in a government-grade steel chair like it’s a beanbag. Ava’s scrolling her tablet, boots on the table despite multiple prior threats from Val. Walker’s twirling a pen and looking like he’s about to make a comment no one asked for.

Then your eyes land on him.

Bob.

Second from the right. Notebook closed in front of him. Shoulders hunched slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller, or maybe disappear altogether.

Two empty chairs beside him.

You hesitate.

The little voice in your head—the one that’s gotten crueler lately—says, Don’t bother. But you ignore it.

You step around the table, slow but deliberate.

Your pulse kicks up as you approach. You wonder—stupidly, hopefully—if maybe this is the moment. Maybe today, he’ll look up. Maybe he’ll say “Hey,” like he used to, voice low and warm. Maybe you’ll sit beside him and feel something like before.

You stop beside the chair next to him.

Bob looks up.

Your breath catches.

And then—

He blinks. His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not even close.

He closes his notebook.

And he stands.

Your eyes widen. He murmurs something to Yelena—too low for you to hear—but she raises one eyebrow and gives him a look that says Seriously? Bob says nothing else. He walks around the back of the table, silent and swift, and drops into a chair across the room.

Your throat tightens.

You sit down heavily in the now-empty chair next to Bucky.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters, barely audible. “That was… something.”

You just shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “What the hell was that?”

Bucky leans in. “He looked like you were holding a knife.”

“Maybe I should start holding one.”

Val walks in, clapping her hands once. “Alright, Thunderbolts. Everyone awake? Good. Let’s make this quick. I’ve got meetings stacked higher than Walker’s ego.”

Walker scoffs. “Hilarious.”

“Quiet, star-spangled disaster,” Val says dryly.

You try to focus. Val drones on about the last mission—errors, improvements, recon notes. Words blur into static.

Bob doesn’t look at you. Not once.

You glance at him—he’s leaning back, hands clasped in his lap, eyes fixed on the slide deck like it owes him something. He’s not scribbling notes like he usually does. He’s not twirling his pen. He’s not moving.

You grit your teeth and turn to Bucky.

“He���s ignoring me again.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “We’re mid-briefing.”

“I’m going to strangle him with his own hoodie.”

“That’s dramatic. Effective, though.”

Val clicks to the next slide.

You whisper, “Why is he like this? He used to talk to me.”

“Used to eat lunch with you too,” Bucky murmurs. “Used to laugh.”

“I know that.”

“And now he’s pretending you don’t exist.”

“Exactly!”

“You think maybe… that’s the opposite of what’s happening?”

You blink. “What?”

Bucky just smirks.

Then—

Val slaps a hand on the table. “Hey. Lovebirds. Try keeping the domestic bickering to a whisper?”

Your soul leaves your body.

You blink. “I’m sorry—what?”

Walker snorts. Ava doesn’t even look up from her tablet.

Val waves a hand. “Whatever. Just pay attention. I’m not repeating myself for your unresolved sexual tension.”

The room falls quiet.

Bucky leans into his hand, elbow on the table. “I think we’ve just been outed.”

You bury your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

You chance a glance at Bob.

He hasn’t moved.

He’s staring at the table. Not at you. But his knuckles are white where they rest on his knee.

You’re too stunned to say anything.

The rest of the debrief is a blur.

⋆˙⟡

The training room smells like rubber mats and frustration.

Sweat beads at the back of your neck as you pace toward the punching dummies, your left ankle throbbing with every step. You rolled it bad—stupidly—during a dodging drill with Ava and Walker. You’d laughed it off at the time, brushing dirt off your shoulder like it was nothing.

But now that the adrenaline’s fading, it hurts.

The sun’s just beginning to dip behind the compound’s reinforced windows, casting the entire gym in a low, orange haze. Yelena is by the far wall, throwing knives at a wooden dummy’s face like she’s flirting with murder. Ava’s perched on a bench with her headphones in, scrolling through footage on her tablet. Walker’s long gone, probably off to inflate his ego somewhere else.

And there’s Bob. Across the room.

He’s standing by the free weights, curling a bar like it weighs nothing. His hair’s damp at the edges, sticking slightly to his temples. He’s in his navy long-sleeve again—his favorite, the one that’s worn thin at the elbows. His eyes flick toward you as you limp slightly past.

Your breath catches.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you today.

You feel it. That familiar flutter in your chest that you keep trying to kill.

You open your mouth—to say anything—but hesitate. He looks like he might say something, too. Like he’s going to take a step forward. His fingers twitch slightly against the bar.

And then you hear it:

“You alright?”

You turn.

Bucky’s walking over from the hallway, towel slung around his shoulders, brow furrowed as he catches your limp.

“Oh. Yeah. Just twisted it earlier. It’s not bad.” You wave a hand like that makes it true.

“Let me see,” he says, already crouching down beside the bench. “Sit.”

You hesitate. “I was gonna—” You glance back toward Bob.

But he’s still standing there. Still watching. Frozen in place.

Whatever he was going to say—if he was going to say it—dies.

He takes one slow step back.

You sigh, quietly, and sit down beside Bucky instead.

He pulls your boot off gently, inspecting the swollen ankle.

You wince. “I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t mean you should ignore it.” Bucky digs in a nearby locker for an ice pack. “You planning on training through this like a moron, or letting me tape it?”

You roll your eyes, but smile. “Fine. Doctor Barnes.”

“I’ll add that to the list of titles I never asked for.”

Across the room, Bob hasn’t moved.

His jaw’s tight. His hands open and close once, then again. He watches the two of you quietly, unreadable.

He takes a breath, like he’s about to come over anyway.

But Yelena appears behind him without warning. “You’re glaring again,” she mutters.

Bob startles, just barely. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I wasn’t—” He glances over at you and Bucky. Bucky’s crouched now, wrapping your ankle in gauze, your hand on his shoulder to keep balance. You laugh at something he says.

Bob turns away.

Yelena raises an eyebrow. “You gonna keep lying or just explode already?”

“Shut up,” Bob mutters.

“Sure,” she says, biting into an energy bar. “Just let me know when you’re done pining like a 17-year-old Victorian widow.”

He shoots her a look, but she’s already walking away.

He turns back toward you, just in time to see you toss Bucky an appreciative smile and say, “Thanks, Buck.”

And then you’re gone—hobbling off toward the lockers with Bucky trailing beside you.

Bob stares at the door long after you’ve disappeared.

⋆˙⟡

Bob’s hands have been sitting still for too long.

One of them rests on the disassembled sidearm laid out in front of him, the other curled tight against his jaw as he leans on the table. His brow is furrowed. His brain hasn’t registered a single thing in the last fifteen minutes. The room is quiet, except for the distant hum of the overhead lights and the occasional thud of Yelena dropping gear somewhere behind him.

He stares at the gun like it’ll reassemble his thoughts for him.

“You’re sulking again,” comes her voice, sharp and dry as vodka.

He doesn’t look up. “I’m not.”

“You’re brooding in the dark, surrounded by dangerous objects,” she replies, stepping closer and leaning against the metal counter with a crunch of her granola bar. “That’s called sulking, Bob.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

He exhales, long and slow. “I’m just… thinking.”

“About her?” Yelena chews. “Or are we pretending you don’t do that every three hours?”

He doesn’t answer. Just picks up a screwdriver, flips it once in his palm, then puts it back down like it’s too heavy to hold.

She softens a little. “What happened this time?”

He doesn’t know where to start. He could say, I saw her ankle give out and didn’t move fast enough. Or maybe, I saw her smile at Bucky again and it felt like a kick to the ribs. But none of that explains how badly he wants to rewind everything. Go back to when you used to wait for him after missions. When you’d lean on his shoulder while teasing Walker or smirking at Yelena like you were in on some inside joke Bob would never understand.

He remembers the sound of your laugh. That full-bodied, uncaring laugh that only came out when you felt safe. You used to laugh like that around him.

“I think she hates me,” he says eventually, voice low.

“She doesn’t,” Yelena says without hesitation.

“She used to talk to me,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Every day. About random stuff—TV shows, your neighbor’s dog, the vending machine being rigged. And I was stupid enough to think it would last.”

Yelena quirks an eyebrow. “What changed?”

“I did.”

And he did. Somewhere in the space between trusting you and falling for you, he got weird. He started pulling back, dodging eye contact, brushing off conversations before they could start. He didn’t know how to handle it—how to want you without scaring you away.

So instead, he scared himself into silence.

You’d walked into the common room that night with Bucky at your side, your laugh trailing behind you like perfume. You were trying to get popcorn—just a normal thing—but then your hand brushed his and his whole body tensed like he’d touched fire. He pulled back before he even thought about it.

Your smile faded so fast it made his stomach turn.

He should’ve said something. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—

But instead, he just froze, watching you walk away, bowl in hand, settling on the couch next to Bucky like that was where you belonged now.

He couldn’t focus on the movie. He couldn’t even hear it over the pounding in his ears. Every time you leaned into Bucky’s side, something bitter tightened in his throat. You didn’t even look his way after that. Why would you?

He hadn’t just pulled away. He’d disappeared.

Yelena watches him quietly now, like she knows where his mind is drifting. “Did something else happen?”

He nods. “Debrief, a few days ago.”

She waits.

“I walked in and saw her scanning the room,” he says. “She looked like she was gonna sit next to me. She almost did. But I… I moved.”

“You ran.”

He winces. “Walked. Quickly. To the other side of the table.”

“Coward.”

“I know.” He leans back, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “I couldn’t do it. I was going to say hi. Ask about her shoulder—she took a hit on the last mission—but I panicked.”

Yelena hums in that way she does when she’s judging him quietly.

“She sat next to Bucky instead. Again,” Bob adds, bitterness creeping into his voice. “They were whispering to each other, laughing during Val’s rundown, and then Val says—” His voice shifts, mocking: “‘Can the lovebirds pay attention?’”

Yelena snorts.

“She didn’t deny it,” Bob says quickly, like he needs her to know this part. “Didn’t laugh, didn’t say, we’re not a thing. Just turned red and glared at Val, like it was a thing and she was embarrassed about it.”

Yelena doesn’t answer right away.

Bob lets his head drop forward into his hands. “I know it sounds stupid. It is stupid. But I keep seeing them together, and it’s not just the proximity. It’s the way she looks at him. Talks to him.”

“You mean the way she used to talk to you?"

He goes still.

Yelena softens, voice less teasing. “Bob… maybe she’s just trying to fill the space you left.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

Then yesterday happened.

He saw you limp into the gym and his entire nervous system lit up. You were trying to play it cool, but he knew that look—you were in pain and trying not to show it.

He took one step forward, almost called your name.

But Bucky beat him to it.

Hey, you alright?

Bob watched, rooted in place, as you let Bucky guide you to the bench. Watched you let him take off your boot. Wrap your ankle. You laughed at something he said again, that same sound Bob used to hear on accident—when you were scrolling your phone on the couch beside him, or teasing him over his “weird cult-leader” handwriting.

Bob’s hands had clenched. His chest felt hollow.

And still, he hadn’t moved.

“Every time I try to fix it, I mess it up more,” he says now, his voice ragged with frustration. “And every time I don’t fix it, I lose her a little more.”

Yelena tosses her granola wrapper in the bin. “So what, you’re just going to keep watching her from across the room like some tragic Regency novel?”

Bob glares weakly. “I just… I don’t know what she wants anymore.”

“Well,” Yelena stands, dusting off her pants. “Maybe she doesn’t either. You’ve given her nothing to work with.”

He swallows.

She’s right.

He remembers the way you used to look at him—eyes full of challenge, of trust. You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Now, when you glance his way, there’s hurt in your eyes. And confusion. And maybe—just maybe—a little hope you haven’t managed to kill off completely.

Bob wants to believe it isn’t too late.

But he also knows he’s running out of chances to find out.

⋆˙⟡

The med bay is quiet except for the gentle whir of the portable stim unit on your ankle. You should be focusing on your recovery, on resting, but your mind’s pacing in circles. Restless. It’s been days since the last mission. Days since you sprained your ankle and Bob almost helped you.

Almost.

The sound of that one step he took toward you is burned into your skull. You heard it. Saw the flicker of concern in his expression. The way he looked like he might finally say something. But he didn’t. Again.

Instead, Bucky helped you. Like he always does.

And maybe you’re just exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically—but tonight, as the pain pulses dully through your foot and frustration simmers in your chest, you decide you’ve had enough.

You’re done letting Bob hide behind silence.

You leave the med bay the moment your foot can bear weight and stalk the halls with too much purpose for someone supposed to be recovering. You know exactly where he’ll be. The observation deck. He always retreats there after missions, like he’s hoping the stars will answer something the rest of you can’t.

Sure enough, you spot him through the glass, silhouetted in the cool blue glow of the night sky beyond. Hood up. Shoulders hunched. Like the world’s sitting on his back.

He doesn’t hear you enter. Or maybe he does and chooses not to turn.

You stop a few feet behind him.

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

His shoulders stiffen.

No greeting. No pleasantries. You don’t have the patience for any of it.

He doesn’t turn.

You take another step closer. “Seriously, Bob. What the hell did I do to make you act like I’m some kind of ghost?”

Nothing.

You force a breath. Your voice cracks. “You used to be my best friend.”

That finally gets him. Slowly, he turns, the hood dropping back just enough to let you see the guilt carved into his features. He looks tired. Paler than usual. And yet somehow still impossible to read.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he says, too quiet to be convincing.

You scoff. “Bullshit. You can’t even look me in the eye anymore. I try to talk to you, you bolt. I reach for the popcorn and you practically teleport away. You leave the room when I sit down. You change training shifts to avoid me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to, or you didn’t want to be around me?”

He winces. His mouth opens like he wants to explain. But nothing comes out.

You hate how much it hurts.

“Do you hate me now?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He jolts. “What?”

“Just tell me,” you snap, covering your pain with anger. “If I did something wrong—if I messed this up somehow—just say it.”

“You didn’t,” he says, fast, desperate. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

“Then why?” You’re breathing harder now. “Why did you just… drop me? You let me think I was crazy for feeling the distance when you were the one building it!”

“I had to,” he mutters.

You step closer. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not. You either care or you don’t.”

“I do care,” he blurts, suddenly louder, voice cracking like thunder off the glass.

Silence falls between you. Heavy. Fragile.

You blink. “Then why do you treat me like I don’t exist?”

Bob runs both hands through his hair, pacing away from you, then back, like he’s coming apart.

“Because it’s easier than wanting something I can’t have,” he finally breathes.

You stare.

He exhales like he’s been holding that in for months. “You and Bucky… I see the way you look at him. I hear the way you talk to him. I thought maybe if I backed off, I could deal with it. But every time I see you with him, it’s like my ribs are caving in.”

You’re stunned.

“Bob—”

“And then Val calls you ‘lovebirds,’ and you don’t deny it. You blushed. I thought…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “I thought I missed my chance. That I’d already messed it up. And if I couldn’t be what you wanted, the least I could do was get out of your way.”

Your voice comes out gentler. “You thought I was with Bucky?”

“Aren’t you?”

You stare at him. “No. Of course not.”

He blinks. “But you’re always with him. Laughing. Whispering. You lean on him.”

“Because he listens. Because you wouldn’t.”

“I was trying to protect myself.”

“And I was trying to understand why the person I care about most started treating me like a stranger!”

That lands like a punch. Bob’s shoulders sag. He looks like he’s about to fold in on himself.

You step forward. Hesitate. Then place a hand on his chest—just over his heart.

“You idiot,” you whisper. “You really thought I wanted Bucky?”

Bob doesn’t answer. His eyes are wide, vulnerable. Your touch stills him completely.

“I wanted you.” You say it quietly. Gently. Like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

He exhales shakily. His hands twitch at his sides, then lift—hesitant, slow—as if he’s terrified touching you might break the moment.

But when he finally presses his palm over yours, the tension breaks.

Neither of you says a word for a long time.

Then, finally, he leans forward, forehead resting against yours, breath shallow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

His breath hitches. “I never stopped.”

⋆˙⟡

You weren’t planning on sitting next to him. Not really. You told yourself you’d play it cool. Casual. Normal. You were going to walk in, nod politely, and take your usual spot next to Bucky like the last three weeks.

But tonight… you hesitate at the door.

Bob’s already there. Hood down, for once. Jacket draped over the back of the couch. He’s wearing that old faded band tee you once teased him about—the one you said made him look like a roadie, not a superhero. And he’s looking around the room like he’s searching for something.

For someone.

Your pulse kicks up.

Yelena’s on the far couch, legs tucked under her, already spoon-deep into a pint of ice cream. John’s half asleep in the armchair with a beer balanced precariously on his thigh. Ava is floating just above the beanbag pile, watching the screen like she’s trying to decipher code. Bucky’s leaning against the back wall with crossed arms, waiting to see where you sit before he picks a seat.

And Bob… Bob catches your eye and doesn’t look away.

Not for a second.

It’s nothing like before.

There’s no flinching. No retreat. Just that soft, unsure gravity you’d missed so badly.

Your feet move before you think about it. You take the empty spot beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It feels terrifying.

And then Bob shifts, ever so slightly, to give you more space. Or maybe to meet you halfway. His thigh brushes yours. He doesn’t pull back.

You glance sideways. His fingers twitch against the blanket on his lap.

Yelena lets out an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh my God.”

You freeze.

John jerks upright. “What?”

Bucky just huffs a quiet chuckle and takes the nearest beanbag. “Took them long enough.”

You blink. “What are you—”

“Oh, please,” Yelena drawls. “This has been a six-act drama and we’re finally at the resolution. Do not deny me this.”

Bob lets out a groan and sinks lower into the couch.

Val, from somewhere in the hallway, calls out without even looking in: “If anyone makes out during the opening credits, I’m kicking you off the mission roster.”

You bury your face in your hands.

Bob coughs into a laugh beside you.

Bucky leans over and mutters, “So, when’s the wedding?”

You elbow him, face burning.

Bob’s hand brushes yours—light, hesitant—and then doesn’t move. Fingers barely touching. Like a promise he’s still too shy to make out loud.

The movie starts. Everyone settles.

You stay exactly where you are, shoulder to shoulder with the man you thought you lost. The man who is still here.

And even with the teasing, the knowing glances, and the smug looks from across the room—you’re smiling.

Finally.

⋆˙⟡

A/N : another blurb before i do a request and continue finishing psyche 3 (i just have no creative juice to squeeze anymore)

A/N 2 : i love bob so much i want to write him in every trope there is LMAOO

A/N 3 : bucky barnes one shot, anyone? non-smut because i physically cannot bring myself to write smut i get very uncomfortable while writing and they end up being SO BAD

[sunskisser]

LET GO — ROBERT REYNOLDS

✦ bob reynolds x reader, 1.5k

✦ cw: thunderbolts* spoilers, implied that they all live in the avengers tower, reader is an avenger/thunderbolt, bob has nightmares of past trauma, hurt/comfort

✦ summary: bob always avoided you, and you had no idea why — till the night you help him out of a frenzy.

Bob was a strange guy.

You knew little about him, only as much as Bucky had told you. You’d been told all about his strange powers as The Void, how his dark side had taken a hold of him that day in New York. You’d seen the footage. You knew how scary he could become.

Yet, you couldn’t believe it.

You couldn’t believe that someone like Bob, who sometimes didn’t know left from right, with his soft eyes and softer yet smiles, was capable of something like that.

Trying to get to know him was frustrating. You’d been pursuing him ever since you moved into the tower, and it was almost like trying to catch water between your hands. He somehow managed to slip away every time you tried to make conversation, pinkened cheeks and spools of excuses dangling out his mouth.

If he wasn’t busy doing whatever else needed his attention, then it felt as though he was being held at gunpoint to talk to you – curt replies and eyes darting all over, muscles twitching like he physically had to get out of there. He was evasive. Annoying. Exhausting.

You didn’t know why, and couldn’t figure it out. Couldn’t figure him out. It was starting to get on your nerves, then, because why were you chasing after someone who didn’t want to be known? It was time to give up. If Bob wasn’t going to make an effort to talk, neither were you.

“Every time!” you grumble, begrudgingly nodding in thanks as Bucky hands you a mug of coffee. You take a sip of the bitter liquid, letting it wash over your tongue. “Every single time I try to talk to him, he avoids me like the plague. I’m starting to think he hates me.”

Bucky sighs, reaching across the table to pat your hand consolingly. “Maybe you just need to give him some time.”

“I’ve given him enough.”

“Methinks,” Alexei pipes up from across the room, flopping across the couch like a starfish, “that this is love. Young love, you know? Can never get past the anxie-titty.”

“Anxiety,” Ava corrects. She grabs Bucky’s mug from his hand as she walks by, earning an annoyed grunt as she plops herself down on the other end of the couch. “But honestly, — slurp — I agree. I think Bob just has a little crush.”

You roll your eyes, frustration growing by the second. “Yeah, of course. Bob definitely has a crush on me.”

Bucky snorts. “Exactly!” Alexei nods, lighting up as the sarcasm flies right over his head. “You got it. This girl is smart, I tell you. Very smart, quick learner.”

“And you’re the exact opposite,” Ava deadpans.

She smirks as Alexei���s face scrunches up in confusion, Bucky coughing in an attempt to keep a straight face. You crack a smile.

You groan and push your face further into your pillow. The heat that night was sweltering, almost suffocating, and the air conditioning had gone off again — Walker and his inability to remember to pay the bills.

You felt everything acutely; rough blanket on your skin, sweat between your toes, hot breath on your upper lip. It was overwhelming.

“This,” you grumble, rolling over and shrugging your blanket off, “must’ve been why his wife left him. Asshole.” You rub your eyes and sit up, deciding that you might as well try the couch. More ventilation out there.

Your blanket trails behind you like a cape as you open the door. Faint pieces of moonlight scatter across the floor, lighting up the hallway. It was just enough for you to walk your way to the living room.

You pause at the sight of a silhouette on the couch, a quiet huff escaping you. It seemed like you weren’t the only one with this idea.

As you move closer, it’s strikingly obvious who the culprit was — messy curls, Spongebob blanket, arms wrapped around himself. Bob.

You bite your tongue. You’re about to feel annoyed, about to let that anger wash over you again. Avoiding you wasn’t enough, he had to steal your one chance at proper sleep too?

Then you hear it.

His labored breathing, incoherent mumbles. You frown, unconsciously softening as you inch closer.

“Please,” he whimpers. You swallow. His hands twitch around his torso, and you get the strange urge to hold them. His eyes are squeezed so tight you wonder if it hurts. “Please don’t… don’t yell at me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You watch helplessly as he repeats the apology again and again. His face is contorted in some kind of anguish, muscles tense with fear. You think you can hear the sound of your heart breaking.

You reach out, hesitating before you place your hand on his shoulder and give a little shake. “Bob?”

“No!” he cries out hoarsely as he flinches away. You retract immediately, startled. “No, don’t hurt me… don’t hurt me.” His hands fly up to shield his face, fingers trembling where they cover his eyes. “I didn’t do it, I swear. Please, don’t hurt me.”

A pang of sadness twists in your chest. You knew what it felt like, to be haunted by what you’ve done, every one of you did. Nightmares of people you’ve killed, people you couldn’t save. They kept you awake at night.

But to experience something being done to you, someone hurting you all over again, was another hell entirely.

You straighten up. You had to try harder.

Your hands find Bob’s shoulders again, this time attempting to pull him up into a sitting position. He shrieks weakly, he trashes against your hold, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

His nails dig into your skin. “Stop! Stop, you’re hurting me. Let go of me.” You shake your head, tugging his blanket off with one hand as you hold him up with the other.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bob. And I’m not letting go,” you murmur. “You’re okay, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”

“Let go,” he says again, weaker. His grip on your wrists slackens as he heaves. “Let go of me.”

“No. I’m not letting go.” You swallow. “I’m here, and I’m not letting go of you. You need to wake up. You’re safe here.”

All it takes is another hard jolt.

His eyes fly open, flaahing in panic before they lock on you. “I — what —“

You pull away. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You’re okay. You just had a nightmare.”

His breathing doesn’t slow, and you realise that it’s not you he’s afraid of, it’s himself. You soften. “Hey, Bob. Bob. Come on, look at me.”

His fear-filled eyes find yours, eyebrows furrowed like he’s trying to find a reason not to run away. You gently take his wrist and place his palm on your chest. “I need you to breathe, okay? Breathe with me.”

You take an exaggerated breath, exhaling through your lips. You see the mental struggle, the internal battle of deciding whether or not he can trust you.

He stares at you for a moment. Then, he starts to follow along.

Relieved, you continue. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Till the shakiness is gone, wheezes turning into breaths. Till he’s calmed down.

You squeeze his wrist for good measure. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he exhales quietly, dropping his hand from your chest. His body relaxes the slightest bit. “Yeah, sorry.”

You shake your head, lips curving upwards. “No need to apologise. I’m glad you’re okay.” You move to sit next to him, knees bumping against the other’s.

He swallows and looks down at his hands, cheeks turning their usual shade of pink. Thank god.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, though,” he says, voice coloured with sheepishness. He scratches his neck, refusing to look at you. “Must’ve been… weird.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, placing your hand on his knee. He lets out an embarrassed squeak. “Bob, seriously. It was just a nightmare, it happens.” You rub his knee reassuringly, tone fond. “Nothing shameful or weird about it, okay?”

It takes a second, but he nods. He dares to make eye contact with you, head tilting upwards like a shy puppy. “Um, yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, okay.”

Now you understand what Alexei and Ava were on about.

“Do you think you’re gonna be able to go back to sleep?” you ask kindly, fingers continuing their ministrations on his knee. “Or do you wanna talk for a bit?”

He doesn’t move his leg away. You watch as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows knitting together as he ponders almost adorably.

“Talk?” he says unsurely after a beat, turning to you. “I mean, if that’s okay. If not, then —“

“It’s okay,” you say, half amused, half comforting. “Completely okay.”

And that’s when you get to know Bob. He was finally making an effort to talk, and so were you.

“I told you!” you hear Alexei whisper scandalously the next morning, at the sight of your hand in Bob’s lap and his head on your shoulder. “I was right, he has a crush. And she is crushing too, little rascal.”

You pretend you didn’t hear, and hope no one notices your smile.

[scarletmika]

Peace and Quiet : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Former Avenger/New Avenger Witch!Reader

Summary: Sometimes the tower is too loud, and Bob can feel himself getting overwhelmed. He's always found comfort with you, in your room, where he can find peace and quiet whenever he needs it. And you'll never turn him away, finding the same comfort in him.

Warnings: fluff, idiots not realizing how in love they are, two generally kinda mentally ill individuals, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*

Word Count: 2,369 words

Requests are open!

Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

If there was one thing the Watchtower, which stood high above New York and housed The New Avengers, lacked the most, it was quiet. Given the newest inhabitants of the staple tower in New York, it wasn’t surprising that peace and quiet were hard to come by, or even a moment alone to think.

Between Alexei running through the common room, ranting and yelling about his latest idea for a marketing opportunity for the team, or stories of his glory days, and Ava and John arguing about the smallest things in the world while Yelena tried to get them to ‘desperately shut up’ while Bucky mumbled about his ‘idiotic team,’ there were very few places in the entire building where one could go to find quiet.

Sometimes, peace was all that Bob wanted. There was only one room in his entire new home where he could find it most days, and it was your room.

The team wasn’t entirely shocked by how close you and Bob became in the few short months that Valentina had moved them into the Watchtower, after proclaiming them as “The New Avengers” to the public. From the moment you met in the vault to the moment you held him and helped pull him from his own Void in the middle of the city, everyone could see how much you’d come to care for him in such a short amount of time. Truthfully, of everyone on the team, they knew if Bob was going to lean on any of them for support, it definitely should be you, given you were the only one of them that was ever truly touted by the public as a hero, as an Avenger.

At the moment, you weren’t sure what kind of commotion could’ve been happening upstairs in the common room of the tower. This morning, Ava had thrown a knife across the table at John, who deflected it with his own fork while still digging into his waffles, sending the knife flying toward Bob as you stopped it with a flick of your hand from across the table, magic holding it in place as you send both of your teammates an unimpressed look. In the middle of the day you’d passed by Alexei trailing after Bucky as he left the training room, trying to convince the super soldier that they could make so much money doing their own “Super Soldier Swimsuit Calendar,” which left Bucky mumbling why he had even agreed to stay part of this team as long as he had.

You’d retired to your room within the tower long before you could witness the inevitable dinner fight or argument, as entertaining as it was sometimes to watch your new friends fight. Skipping dinner was something that you’d been doing for months, ever since Alexei wanted to make it mandatory that you eat in the dining room as a “family.” There were too many memories that resided in that room, in this entire tower. It’s how you found yourself on the piano bench by the windows of your room, fingers dancing across the keys to a familiar tune that you’d heard for many years as you hummed the lyrics you knew all too well to yourself. The music helped you not think about the past.

“That sounds really pretty,”

The voice at the doorway of your room startled you, fingers hitting the wrong keys as the progression of the song was interrupted. You whipped around, heart racing for a moment until it quieted, seeing who was standing in your doorway across the room.

“Bob-”

“I’m sorry!” he was quick to apologize, shaking his head as he wrung his hands together, actions that brought that soft smile you reserved only for him to your face in seconds. “I didn’t mean to startle you, or just barge in like this, that wasn’t okay, I’m sorry. You just left the door open, and usually you come grab dinner after everyone has left the table, but I didn’t see you up there-”

“Bob!” you cut in with a laugh, one that ceased Bob’s rambling and brought a shy smile to his lips as you looked at him. “It’s okay, I just lost track of time, that’s all. Also, I’ve told you before you’re allowed to come in whenever you want, when the door is open, you don’t have to apologize. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

Bob seemed frozen in his spot for a moment, just simply looking across the room at you with a smile, before he ducked out of the room for a second before reappearing with a plate.

“It’s not much, but uh…I made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

He hadn’t admitted it out loud, though he’d thought about it daily, but your laugh was probably the best thing that Bob had ever heard.

“Shut the door and get your cute butt over here with that sandwich,”

Most of their interactions went like this, with a slight flirty edge to your words, something that Bob couldn’t quite decipher was legitimate flirting or just how you talked to him. John and Alexei tried giving him pep talks that you had feelings for him and that he should ‘man up’ and make a movie, all while Yelena tried to tell him to ignore their words and take it one step at a time.

Bob had gone with the ‘one step at a time’ approach, simply just inserting himself into your time over and over again every day. From the moment you’d first met in the vault and you’d flicked John across the room with a single wave of your magic because he’d rushed at Bob, he’d been drawn to your side. Now, living with you every day, he’d found comfort in your presence the most than in all of his new friends. When this sense of comfort turned into romantic feelings, he wasn’t sure, but Bob was terrified at the thought of crossing that invisible boundary in your interactions. He was a mess, and he knew it. What would a hero like you want with the mess of a man he was?

You’d moved over on the piano bench, leaving space for Bob right beside you. The smile hadn’t left your face, even laughing lightly as Bob still managed to sit as far from you on the bench as he could, terrified of invading your personal space.

With the plate placed on top of the piano, you quickly ripped it in half, handing the other half over to Bob. Slices in hand, you ‘clinked’ your half against his, the pair of you laughing quietly together over the little moment. Your eyes stayed on Bob for a moment, smile never leaving and softening even as he looked down at his hands, taking small bites of the sandwich as his cheeks flushed red.

“I uh, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play the piano before,”

Placing your half of the sandwich back on the plate, your fingers quickly moved back to the keys of the piano, playing that same familiar tune you had before. She glanced over to Bob, his eyes following your movements over the piano keys in wonder.

“I don’t do it often anymore, usually just when my thoughts are the loudest and I need a distraction,” you confided in him as you played. “Piano was something my mother taught me when I was little, she was good at it. Told me I had a knack for it, had me in lessons the earliest that she could put me in them.”

Bob found himself looking at you again, observing you as you played and stared out the window over New York City before you both. He could see it, the slight frown in the corner of your mouth as you spoke.

“You…you said your thoughts were loud?”

You glanced over to him as you played, seeing the hesitation in his question. You gave him the softest of smiles to try and comfort him as you spoke.

“You know how I used to be an Avenger? Part of the original team?” Bob gave you a small nod. “There’s…a lot of memories in every corner of this tower. It’s different now, Valentina has made sure to give it a complete makeover, but I can still feel the memories everywhere. Especially in the dining room. When I saw everyone in there earlier together for dinner, it all came flooding back to me. I just needed to come and find some-”

“Peace and quiet,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. You and Bob shared yet another smile, a similar red flush to both of your faces in that moment of understanding. “I look for that too, a lot. Our friends they’re uh, they’re loud.”

Another laugh fell out of you as Bob spoke, nodding your head in agreement with his statement.

“You’re not wrong in the slightest, they’re the loudest people I’ve ever lived with. I’m glad that you’re able to find some peace and quiet here, though,”

“Yeah, it’s usually just when I’m with you,” even Bob seemed surprised at his own comment, stumbling for a moment as he tried to understand where that came from within him. “That uh…sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come off as-”

“If that was your first attempt at flirting in awhile, I have to hand it to you Bob you aren’t half bad at it,” the giggle that fell from your lips fell in line with the music that you were still playing as Bob ran his hands down his face, shaking his head over the entire thing. “Come here.”

Bob hesitated for a moment, but that moment didn’t last long. He slid across the bench to your side, legs pressed together and shoulders just barely touching. You stopped playing for a moment, turning to him with a smile as you flicked your hands, magic dancing from your fingers as it flipped the sheet music in front of you back to the beginning of the book.

“Have I mentioned how cool your magic is?”

“Just about every time I use it in front of you, though I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,”

“Well…it’s really cool. Do you think you could uh, maybe show me how to play?”

“Give me your hand,”

You took hold of Bob’s hand, placing it on top of the keys and laying your own on top of his, spreading your fingers to cover his own. Both of you flushed, silently hoping the other couldn’t hear the intense beating of both of your hearts at the gesture.

“Just relax and let your fingers do what I tell them to,” you told him softly, experimentally pressing one of his fingers down onto one of the piano keys. “This is a song Steve used to play all the time, here and in the compound. It was hard not to get it stuck in your head after so long.”

“Does it bring up memories?”

“Yes, but good ones,”

Bob felt himself relax, something he hadn’t truly done in a long time. In the rush of it all, there had been very few moments to relax since he’d awakened in that vault just a few months ago. He felt truly at peace as you worked your magic, dancing his fingers across the keys in the same patterns as the sound of the piano was the only thing playing in the room. Your eyes lay on your hand and Bob’s together as you helped him play the music, but his eyes rested solely on the side of your face.

“Can you…can you sing the words?”

You didn’t answer him, instead doing just as he asked.

“Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me. There's so much I feel that I should say,” you sang in the softest voice you could muster, glancing up at Bob’s flushed face as she smiled at him. “But words can wait until some other day…Kiss me once, then kiss me twice then kiss me once again. It’s been a long, long time.”

Bob smiled, every memory and bad thought tucked away in his head fighting to get out simply background noise at this point, every one of his senses invaded by you instead, and he never wanted you to leave.

“Haven't felt like this, my dear since can't remember when. It’s been a long, long time,” you bumped your shoulder with Bob’s, smile growing andchest fluttering with an emotion you knew was far some simple fondness at this point as he laughed at you. “You'll never know how many dreams I dream about you…or just how empty they all seem without you…”

Your singing trailed off as you and Bob simply looked at one another. The piano keys beneath your two hands ceased playing as you took a leap of faith, sliding your hand into Bob’s as you fingers intertwined together. You could hear the sharp intake of breath from Bob at the initial contact, but it didn’t take long for his hand to mould to your own, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world and keeping the Void inside him at bay. 

With one hand still playing the piano, music drifting through the room, your head made it’s way to Bob’s shoulder, tucking itself into the space between his shoulder and neck as you stared out at the setting sun over the New York City skyline. It didn’t take Bob long to rest his head back against your own, every ounce of tenseness in his body leaving as he settled against you, overwhelmed by the feel of you against him, grounding him in the real world and keeping his thoughts at bay. Just two people who found one another, basking in the peace and quiet they’d found in each other.

They were none the wiser to Yelena right outside the bedroom, peaking through the doorway that Bob had forgotten to close in his haste to enter the room, smiling softly at the pair closer together than ever before, and shut the door to give them the privacy that they deserved together.

[owastie]

archives room robert/bob reynolds x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: you’re tasked with searching through the archives room to find some information on a new threat m.list \ wc: 1.5k

   "you- uh you mind starting here, divide and conquer?” you look over at bob, hands resting on your hips. 

  the archives room has always been a cluttered mess, avoided by all and enjoyed by none. boxes stack higher than you stand and knick knacks cover the flooring, leaving little room for comfortable movement. however, as rumors of a former adversary flutters throughout new york, you all knew it was time to start checking. and you drew the short straw, literally, along with bob. 

  bob purses his lips, hands clasped behind his back. sallowing hard, his adam’s apple bobs up and down, one foot rubbing behind his ankle. “sure, just, check every box on this side?” he rewords your sentence, clearly making sure every little thing he does is acceptable.

  “yeah, let me know if you see even a mention of this guy’s name,” walking off towards your side, you take a peek back at him, eyebrows furrowing.

  everyone on the team cared for bob, understanding his problems more than anyone else could. you feel that same pull towards him, an unmistakable magnetic pull that he drags out of you. however, you’re still not particularly close to him. even after nearly a year of living together, the room is still awkward when it’s just the two of you. tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  even now, you look back towards the problem at hand, hair standing on the back of your neck. at first you wondered if it was his powers that made you feel this way. you were afraid of feeling the same emotions you felt fighting him. now, though, you feel as though you have nothing to fear, besides an awkward conversation that could ruin months of progress.

  grabbing a box down, you flip through the different pages, finding nothing of relevance. tapping the top of the box, and then the bottom, it quickly floats to the ceiling. bouncing off of the concrete, it settles into a comfortable spot. “sometimes i forget how interesting your abilities are,” bob looks over at you, seemingly having watched you send it upwards.

  looking back at him, you give him a half smile. “thanks, i mean it’s just gravity, not nearly as interesting as some of the others,” your shoulders move before you can even think, shrugging absentmindedly at his compliment, eyes returning to your work. 

  bob nods, still pursing his lips, as though he wants to say something but is simply too in his own head to do so. looking back at your portion of the boxes, you get back to work, trying to play some melody in your head to drown out the silence. yet every noise bounces off the walls like an echo. the windowless room feeling stale as you grab each box, dust brushing off against your fingers.

  sending another box towards the ceiling, you pull out a new one, lifting off the lid and setting it to the side. inside is a long list of papers, some envelopes shoved in the box. biting the inside of your cheek, you begin to flip through each page. the process is long and boring, each one filled with bureaucratic nonsense. until your eyes scan the very thing you needed, information on norman osborn’s rising empire.

  “robert- uh bob! i think i found what we were looking for,” you look back towards him, grabbing out the multiple stacks of stapled documents, “this is some of the research that tony stark was building on him- this could totally help us.”

  stepping over a few of the strewn items and papers along the archives room flooring, you head for bob. he’s looking up from a position he took sitting on the floor, immediately dropping a glowing crystal of some kind from an old box. standing up, bob steps over one of the taller boxes. as his foot lowers, he doesn’t notice the small upside down sticky note. 

  pressing his foot down, it takes away the grippy feeling of his shoes, instantly causing him to fall forward. reaching out for him, your hand grabs a hold of his sleeve, dropping the papers you were holding. your powers activating as it slowly starts moving him upwards, you along with him. “oh fuck no!” your feet start swaying back and forth, the loss of flooring beneath your feet instantly messing with your mind.

  “y/n- thanks for the save, but could you bring us down now,” bob looks over at you, unsure if he should grab your hand or not, initiating touch that may make this situation even worse.

  “uh, i’m not sure. my abilities work well with inanimate objects,” looking down towards the floor, you reach your other hand to a painting on the wall, grasping against the frame, “but i don’t really understand how it works with living things…”

  you’ve tried multiple times to fully grasp every nook and cranny of your abilities. worked with the new avengers to try to understand every aspect of it. and yet you could never fully grasp the process of causing a person to float. much less one you’re not entirely close with. “okay, so could you use what you have to lower yourself to the ground? pull me with?” bob suggests, looking over at you, his hair swinging in front of his face.

  “no… because our forces will equal out and we will be stuck in one spot.. until i eventually pass out and we fall to the floor. which is not ideal with how tall stark built the ceilings,” you look back at him, pursuing your own lips apologetically, “i’m sorry. i haven’t quite gotten the hang of this yet. not everything at least.”

  bob lets out a deep sigh, laughing in an attempt to brighten the mood, “at least you’re not trying to kill me, so this isn’t too bad.”

  “right, it could be worse,” you laugh with him, trying to ignore the feeling of weightlessness that’s affecting you. you’ve never quite had a fear of heights, especially with your powers, but right now it feels like the scariest thing there is. “okay, how about i grab your sleeves and you grab mine? maybe it’s emotion based? get me to calm down and we lower.”

  bob looks over at you, unsure what to say. it wasn’t his first time in the air, but he really doesn’t want this to be his last. making eye contact with you, his eyebrows lower, softening from his usual wide eyed expression. “okay, let’s try it,” holding out his other arm, you wrap your hands around his covered wrists, him doing the same.

  staring over at him, you take in deep breaths. “what’s your favorite movie?”

  “what?”

  “your favorite movie? just to calm me down.”

  “oh- right. uh, i’ve always quite liked uh the original jurassic park. it was a good movie, i haven’t watched it in a long… long time,” bob tilts his head, looking away as he seemingly searches his mind for such information. nodding your head, you try to think of something to ask him, only to be asked a question that he poses, “what’s your favorite thing to have for breakfast? you usually seem to favor bagels.”

  he looks back towards you, face seemingly warming up as a slight blush crosses his cheeks. smiling, you wonder how he noticed such a thing, when the two of you are hardly friends. “yeah, my grandma used to make homemade ones when i was younger. none are ever quite as good, but slathering them with cream cheese definitely helps some. sorry we don’t talk as much, i’m just now noticing that we’re not as close as the others.”

  “it’s okay, i’m used to that by now.”

  “you shouldn’t have to be though. you really are nice, anyone would be lucky to be your friend bob,” you nod, hands tightening around his wrists, only for you to look down and see your mere feet from the floor.

  bob looks down with you, smiling. letting go of each other’s wrists, you situation your feet against the flooring, finally feeling the sweet floor again. “oh i have never been happier to feel this tile flooring again,” letting out a deep sigh, you look towards bob, who’s already looking at you.

  “thanks for what you said,” he nods, looking down towards the ground. 

  “i meant every word,” nodding, you wait patiently for him to look up, only for your attention to slip from the boxes above, all of them loosing your effect on them as they fall to the ground. 

  slamming around you, they fall into piles of mess, covering the papers you had previously found. dust barrels back into the air, the overhead light revealing every little particle of dust spreading through the open air. “shit,” you press your hands against your hips, looking around the room. peering back at bob, you can see he has a smile on his face, making the idea of searching again not too bad. 

[mariasont]

Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H

a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events

warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though

wc: 1.2k

You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.

He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.

Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.

You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favorite—does he even exist?

You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating. 

And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?

This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.

You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.

The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.

Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.

"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.

The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.

"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."

"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."

"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"

You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.

But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.

The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.

Let me know when you're close!

Is everything going okay?

Call me if you can.

An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?

You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.

You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.

You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.

Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.

You had won.

People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.

You had won.

Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.

You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.

But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.

You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.

"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."

The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.

part 2

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader - Chapter 7 | The Bunker

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader

Read it on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 6

2.1K words

You had several unopened texts from Yelena. Even more from Alexei. They were trying to convince you to come back, but you weren’t so sure. You had been in way over your head accepting a job like this. The money was amazing, sure, but the risks were too grand. You weren’t even insured for shit like this. The Enhanced Damages package is way more expensive, you’re a college student, do the math. 

And who were you to get invested, anyway? You hardly knew the team. Hardly knew Bob. Sure, you’d gotten to know him over the few weeks you’d spent with him. You’d come to like him. But it was clear that the side you thought you knew was only a small part of the full picture that created Robert Reynolds. 

Your phone buzzed once more. You hadn’t opened a single text from the team these last few days. You’d read a few of the notifications, though. Generally they seemed concerned for you on the surface, asking if you were okay. But you could read between the lines. They had needed you more than they thought. Which was insane, really. A college girl who had only been in their lives a few weeks and barely made a difference? What could you possibly provide them with that they, a team of enhanced and highly skilled people, didn’t already have? 

The knock on your door didn’t come as a surprise, not really. You’d expected one of them to show up one of these days. If you had to put money on it, you’d bet it was Alexei or Yelena. 

You should’ve taken that intuition to the casino, because when you opened the door, you were indeed greeted by the father-daughter duo. Alexei greeted you enthusiastically, while Yelena gave a small, sympathetic smile. You let them inside wordlessly. 

Your apartment wasn’t exactly made to host company, NYC and all, but you made do. You served them some coffee and sat with them in your living room. 

“There’s no easy way to put this, but Bob is not doing well,” Yelena started. You exhaled deeply. That was what you had been afraid to hear. 

“We had no choice but to lock him away. I guess Val is good for something. She had a bunker built that can hold him. But he can’t stay there forever,” she ran a hand through her hair. 

“A bunker?!” You gaped. Surely that was a bit excessive. 

“You don’t know… Which is why we came. We need your help. He needs something to keep him grounded. We can’t do that, not while we’re busy with… What we’re busy with.” 

You shook your head. “I’m not a therapist. I’m not made for this. I’m not enhanced. One wrong move and I’m dead, Yelena.” 

“Which is why it’s so important that he trusts you. He likes you. He got close, he hurt you, yet you didn’t use him. We can use that to our advantage,” Yelena explained. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Use it? Use it, how, exactly? What do you expect me to do?” Her wording was suspicious. Wasn’t that exactly what Bob had been afraid of? To be used? 

“I— I understand why that sounds bad. I meant that we can use it to keep him safe. From others, yes, but also from himself.” 

You urged her to continue explaining. She sighed deeply and snuck a quick glance at Alexei, who was uncharacteristically quiet. He gave her a small nod. 

“You remember the Blackout, a few months ago?” She asked. You nodded. Though New York seemed to be a cesspool for events like these, the Blackout was definitely a memorable one. 

“I think you might’ve already guessed, but that was Bob. That’s what happens when he ‘goes dark’,” she made quotation marks with her fingers. If you remembered correctly, the quotation marks were hardly necessary. The being that had taken over the city that day had been darkness itself. 

“When he does okay, when he’s feeling good, nothing is wrong. As long as he doesn’t use his powers, or at least until he’s learned control, everything is okay. But the second something goes awry or he snaps, when this side of him surfaces, it’s impossible to get him back.” She took a long sip of her coffee. 

“It has only happened once since then. We just… Waited it out. It took weeks. And then it took so much more time from him to recover from that. He’s stuck right now. Some sort of limbo where he’s not Void, but not Bob. Valentina called him the Sentry, so that’s what we call the limbo part. When he’s too far gone with the usage of powers and in his head that he’s just not right. But with Sentry comes the Void, sooner or later.” 

You took a few beats of silence to take it all in. It made sense. Your heart was hurt for him. You wanted to help, you really did. 

“But what can I do? You guys are the ones he trusts. You’re the ones who might have a fighting chance at beating him when he goes dark. I’m… I’m nobody.” 

“Very wrong. We don’t have fighting chance. Bob… He’s too strong. Like Hulk made sweet love and had baby with Thor,” Alexei intervened. 

“And that’s just physical strength,” Yelena added. 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about my involvement in all this, guys,” you laughed. 

“You don’t have any ulterior motives. You’re not part of this… This world we live in. You’re an external party. A relationship he has full control over. Because if he doesn’t like having you around or something goes wrong, he can just ask you to leave. He doesn’t have that privilege when it comes to us.�� 

“But that’s not entirely true, is it? You’re the ones that pay me. You’re the ones who ask me to watch over him and spend time with him.” 

You just couldn’t see how this could possibly work out favourably.

“He needs help. Professional help,” you crossed your arms. It was not up for discussion. 

“We know. We’re working on that. It’s not around every corner that you can find someone with enough relevant experience to deal with something like this,” Yelena sighed. 

“So what do you want from me, then?” 

“We want you to come to the bunker and just spend some time with him. We’ll observe from outside and if he seems to calm down we can keep trying that to get him back,” she explained. 

“And if that doesn’t work? There’s not really anything to indicate that it will,” it was a stupid plan. You could see they knew that, too. But they were out of options. 

“We swim river when we get there,” Alexei said matter-of-factly. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Yelena corrected, patting Alexei’s knee. 

“Same thing, Lena. We get to other side eventually.” 

You couldn’t believe they somehow convinced you. You packed a bag with some essentials and allowed them to drive you to this mysterious bunker. 

It was darker outside than you’d expected. You had been holed up in your apartment for days, distracting yourself with all the possible online coursework. You were pretty sure you were three semesters ahead by now. 

You didn’t know what you’d expected when they’d said ‘bunker’, but it certainly wasn’t an underground facility inside the Watchtower. 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to keep him in the city? I expected we’d be driving upstate,” you spoke as you got out of the car. 

“It’s easier to keep him close. Less time travelling means less chance of him breaking away.” 

Bucky was down in the bunker, watching over several cameras. Bunker wasn’t the right word to describe what Bob was locked inside. It was a glorified studio apartment, just reinforced to hell so he couldn’t leave. 

You still weren’t sure how locking him up like this could possibly benefit them. It couldn’t be good for his already horrendous mental state.

“Good to see you back,” Bucky greeted you. You gave him a tight smile. You doubted whether your involvement in this was ‘good’. 

“So, what’s the plan?” You asked. Walker came into the surveillance room. He didn’t look at you. 

“We’re gonna send you in there. Bob doesn’t know there’s cameras and microphones inside. Act like you don’t know, either. Just act like you usually do when you’re alone with him.” Bucky spoke.

They discussed for a minute if they should let you take your bag inside, but in the end decided that it didn’t matter. You had to look as normal as possible and if he wanted to kill you, he didn’t need your toothbrush to do so. 

You took a few deep breaths before entering the first door. It slid open faster than you’d expected. You stepped through and it slammed shut, locking you inside the small room. A few more seconds passed and the second door opened, letting you into the studio. 

You didn’t see him, at first. You tried to act as casual as possible, putting your bag by the door and kicking off your shoes. 

You walked further into the room and spotted him sitting on the couch, reading a book. The only thing that gave away that it was Sentry before you, not Bob, was his posture. Bob usually hunched in on himself, making himself as small as possible. Sentry sat up straight, unafraid to be perceived. 

You knew he’d heard you come in. You didn’t dare speak first, afraid of what he might do. Luckily, you didn’t have to. He finished his page, dog-eared it and put the book on the coffee table in front of him. 

“I knew you’d come, sooner or later,” he spoke. He finally looked at you, then. Your brain couldn’t comprehend how you were seeing Bob, but how it also really wasn’t him. The man sitting in front of you as you stood hovering by the couch was a stranger. 

“Please, sit,” he gestured to the empty spot next to him. You obliged, sitting as far as the small couch would allow. You didn’t take your eyes off him. 

“Why did you leave me here?” He asked. You didn’t know how to answer that. 

“You hurt me, Bob,” you whispered. The wound on your cheek was almost gone. 

“It’s only a scratch… If I had actually intended to hurt you don’t you think it would’ve been much worse?” He leaned back into the couch, relaxing his posture. He still sat with more grandiose than the Bob you knew ever would.

“You scared me,” you admitted. 

“You said you cared about me,” he started. You hadn’t expected him to bring that up. 

“I did– I do. I do care about you. But you said it yourself, caring comes with a cost. You scared me, not only for me but for you,” 

“Then why did you let them do that to me? Do this to me?” He gestured to the room around you. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” you started, but he interrupted. 

“You always have a choice. You’re here, now, aren’t you?” 

You were at a loss for words. What did he want you to say? What could you possibly have done differently? You stood up off the couch, ready to tell the team that this was pointless and to let you out. 

Bob– no, Sentry, was so fast. You didn’t even see him get up, yet there he was, blocking your exit. He bent forward and whispered so quietly, you didn’t even know how you could have heard him. The microphones, you realized. There was no way they could pick that up. 

“I know they’re watching,” he’d whispered. There was no use replying. 

“You say you care and that you only want what’s best for me, but you don’t even trust me,” he spoke loud enough for the microphones to pick up. 

“I trust you. I just don’t know what you want from me right now!” You were getting frustrated. 

Bob laughed, but the sound was hollow. He bent back over you. His height wasn’t something you’d taken notice of before, but it was apparent now how much he towered over you. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, like he’d done before. 

“If you trusted me, you wouldn’t count on them to come save you. You’d know you don’t need saving.” His tone sent shivers down your spine. He was implying he wasn’t going to hurt you, so why did it sound like a threat? 

He didn’t back away, but glanced behind your back, straight into one of the ‘hidden’ cameras. He turned you so your profile was facing the camera and did the last thing you’d expected.

He kissed you.

CHAPTER 8

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki @chimchoom @spidermiraculous-blog @s00ty-feet @28cnn @tinythebunni @softpia @roeroeroeyourboet @secretkittydreamland @cultish-corner @greenbean-4ever @t-rexs-world @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @ifilwtmfc @renren-006 @10ava01 @kawaii1369 @hawkinsavclub1983 @paleepeaches @lnmp89 @frozenhuntress67 @my-name-is-baby @a-moranguei @daisyyy47 @petersluvbug @articel1967 @purplefluffycows @midnightecko @lizzylynch1 @keira-kaz2y5 @lightinbug @thefriendlyferretwriter @xblueriddlex @funkyfable @papapappapapapa @darling-eos @neenieweenie @poppingaround

[aubvrns]

holy shit, jackpot

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Synopsis - Woken by a late night call, you find out why Wanda wasn’t home yet during this hour.

Tags - Fluff, Grumpy x Sunshine (But Sunshine’s just Sunshine because she’s drunk), Partying, Drunk in Love, The Avengers discover alcohol, Soft Wives on Soft Sheets

Note - Bob as a club owner was not on my 2025 bingo card. Might make Thunderbolts* headcanons soon!

Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night, waking you from your deep sleep. The rain poured tremendously outside, its deliberate sound against the windows made you groan, putting a soft pillow on your face.

Wanda was supposed to be back at this hour, but when you extended your hand to her side of the bed, it remains cold. The room was too quiet without Wanda, the thought alone made you think about her whereabouts.

The buzzing sound from you cellphone never left, cutting through the still air of silence. With a sleepy sigh, you picked up: it read;

spider in heelz

is calling...

You blink, answering instantly. The last time Natasha called this late, you’d let it ring. But something tells you that this time was different, especially with Wanda still not home.

“Nat?” You murmur, your voice thick with sleep and the groggy sound of exhaustion.

You hear partying and the faint sound of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry in the background, and glass breaking while someone asks for more beer. You could feel the joyous celebration from the phone, and a chuckling redhead laughing before eventually looking at your concerned and worried face on the screen.

“Y/N. Hey. Listen. I love you. You're amazing. Are you doing— doesn’t matter. We need you.”

You squint your eyes at her drunkly said words, practically feeling the breeze of vodka from her lips. You sit up straighter. “Are you okay? What happened?”

A raspy cough leaves Natasha's throat as she chuckles at someone beside her, assuming it’s Yelena based on her green pocket-filled jacket she was wearing that caught your eye.

“Wanda’s drunk.” Natasha announced like she was declaring your future. “Like super, mega drunk. No one’s sober enough to drive her home, so I called you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

An amused chuckle escapes your lips, already putting on your sweatpants, out of bed. On the other side of the screen, Yelena sneakily takes Natasha’s phone from her hand with Kate by her side, singing along to some remix being played. You say hello to the two, half-asleep, already fighting with your tangled shoelaces.

“Lena, where are you guys?”

“We're at The Void. You should come!” Kate giggles, putting the phone so close to her mouth it made you jump. Yelena mutters something about how scared she is if ever Ava phases and secretly takes a sip in all their drinks.

“Okay, just stay alive. I’ll be there in ten.

—

New York City is a city that never sleeps. The Void, however, filled the nights with neon lights and music you could hear from a mile away. Ever since its owner, Robert Reynolds, established it last month, it became one of the famous spots in the city known as ‘The club where Thor Odison made his personal rage room’.

You step in front of the large building, earning a sympathetic look from the bouncer when he realizes who you are, smiling at you before opening the gates of chaos. When you walk inside, a spotlight finds you as soon as you enter.

“Y/N!” Someone screamed from a distance as the music blared in your ears.

“Oh god.” You muttered under your breath.

You reminded yourself you could always leave them to fend for yourself, but you remember how easy Wanda gets drunk. You let out a heavy breath, scanning the room. Your steps were firm as you approach Natasha. She was beside Bucky, talking deeply as he massaged her hand to fidget amidst the chaos, nodding as she talked.

Yelena, Kate, and Ava were beside them playing cards. They laugh loudly when Kate starts calling her mother because she lost.

“And the lights just went out! Just as the best part of the movie comes— Y/N!”

Natasha jumps at you and hugs you tightly. You let out a gasp, holding her still as she wobbles. “Wanda’s sooo drunk. She started talking to the plant next to Steve and calling it the better Captain America.”

You wince as Natasha tugs you through the club with Bucky following behind, his metal arm casually slung around your shoulder.

Your eyes spot Steve and John having an arm wrestle. People were around them, placing bets about who they think’ll win.

Sam, who looks like five minutes from passing out, sits comfortably against the wall with Pietro, who has a tilted party hat on his head like a crown.

These are the mighty Avengers?

Then you see her— your eyes spot your wife, slouched and out of this planet.

Wanda, who was slumped over a table staring at her reflection in a half-empty glass with cranberry vodka held steadily by Carol, singing Fireworks with her whole chest.

It wasn’t the first time Wanda was drunk like this. Since then, she wrote a long essay dedicated to herself about how she won’t ever, in the name of peace, drink again.

“Sweetheart?” You approach her after assisting Natasha to the nearest couch, but she stands up again and runs to sit down with Sam and Pietro.

Wanda looked up, eyes glassy. She was intoxicated, the way her face flickered with confusion.

“Uh, do I know you?” She mumbled, taking the glass from Carol and drinking the vodka inside, nose scrunching at the bitter taste.

“Seriously?” You sit beside her, carefully taking the glass away from her. She examines your face for a couple of seconds before touching your cheek.

“You’re pretty, like a finished painting with all the right colors.”

“Thank you, we’re married.” You say, deadpanned, putting the glass on the nearest table.

“We are?”

“As far as I know.”

Wanda blinks at you again, letting it sink in and whispered, “Holy shit, jackpot.” and tries to kiss you but you tap her lips instead.

You smile, hooking your arm under Wanda’s and pulling her up as she whines. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Wanda clung to you instantly, her scent wrapping around your senses as she hides her flushed face against your arm. “You smell like rain and cozy sheets, wifey.”

“Because it’s pouring rain outside. I was sleeping very peacefully before you turned into a frat boy.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re mean.”

You sigh so deeply it could extinguish a candle from across the room. You turn to find the three still sitting down against the wall like college students who tried weed for the first time.

“I’m calling cabs to pick you guys up, okay?” You say loudly to Natasha, who was now playing cards with Yelena and Ava, with grumpy Kate watching them.

“Thank you, our angel sent from heaven!”

—

You got Wanda home in one piece.

On the drive home, she kept opening the window, sticking her head out and saying that it was ‘her way of paying respects to mother nature’.

Wanda immediately kicked off her heavy heels the moment she entered your house. Then flopped down to the soft, velvety couch face-down

“Darling,” You call softly.

“I live here now.”

“You’re sleeping in bed.”

“Says who?”

Your eyes roll, removing your own shoes and placing her purse on the counter. Then, you drag her upstairs, wrangled her in the bathroom and handing her a toothbrush.

“Have I been kidnapped? Are you really my wife?” She says slurrily, the toothbrush still in her mouth as your hands stretch a hair tie, your fingers meeting her red locks and tying it into a cozy ponytail.

“Tomorrow I won’t be.”

Wanda pouts as she rinsed and spat. Then she hugs you like a koala sleeping on a tree, about to fall off. You swear she looks like she's about to cry. “Don't say that, krasivyy.”

You pause at the way her voice trembles and how her arms wrap around your waist like you’re going to run away from her grasp.

God, she’s so drunk.

It took about ten minutes before you got her ready for bed. The teasing grin on her face when you removed her shirt is still there as she clung to you against the cold sheets, poking your cheeks.

You called cabs for the others, putting your phone down to finally get the well- deserved sleep you’ve needed since you stepped inside that club packed with people dancing their problems away.

“You’re mad at me.” Wanda traces circles on your hip, her delicate hands intentionally brushing the swell of your butt when you hug her back.

“I’m not mad. Just tired.” Wanda kisses your shoulder, pressing more kisses until it reaches your face, softly— and slowly— lingering on your lips.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow. Naked.”

You laugh despite yourself, being pulled by Wanda closer as the redhead presses more kisses and nuzzles against your collarbones.

“Next time you decide to get drunk and forget me, at least text me first.“

In the dark, with your limbs tangled underneath the cotton sheets, heartbeats soft in your ear, Wanda whispers one thing before sleep took her.

“If I don’t make it to the bathroom in time, just remember, I love you.”

A bucket sits nearby next to her side of the bed on the ground, just in case she wakes up from her dreams of drinking more vodka. And you, always composed, always patient, just held her tighter in hopes that she won’t pull away from the sheets that smell like rain.

“Go to sleep, idiot.”

[darnell-la]

MADE THE FIRST MOVE

pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x reader

summary: y/n knew her job as a hero would be difficult, and most people don’t look after Bob like she does. somehow, she enjoyed it, and couldn’t help but fall for the guy. sadly, his depression kept her back from showing any feeling. that was until he surprised her with the first move.

warnings: smut, depression mentioned, mutants, etc

———

Bob has always been an insurance guy. Ever since y/n got to know him, she’s tried to build his confidence. Even after he almost wiped out everyone in New York a few mo the ago.

The Avengerz live in the old Tony Stark tower, helping each other out in life, even after saying multiple times how they couldn’t stand each other.

Y/n and Bob were the only ones who loved being around each other. After a while, they’ve became close, so close Bob could barely function around y/n. It’s almost like his heart would stop any time she’d come around.

“I’m sorry about like this — Usually I’m fine, but he’s just being difficult right now,” Bob said, speaking above the Void who had started getting to close to taking Bob over again.

For the past month, Bob grew a huge heart for y/n, and Void began taking the chance to make Bog over think every possible detail about y/n and him being anything but friends.

“It’s fine, Bob — Really,” y/n said as she slipped off her house shoes and got under the covers. Y/n had been staying with Bob for the night to make sure he felt needed and wanted. Not in any sexual way, but as a friend.

She would be lying if she said she had no feelings for Bob. She just couldn’t bring herself explain it to him or anyone. She felt like it was wrong, especially with that Bob had going on with himself.

“Why do you do this? I know you see something in me, but y/n- I’m a grown man. And, adult, and I can’t even control my emotions. I suck so bad at it that if I feel too down, I could get rid off the whole city in seconds,”

Bob wouldn’t stop speaking down about himself, as y/n switched the TV off to have something going on in the background as they rested for the night.

“Bob, look — We’ve all got our problems, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help. Why would I watch you and ignore you when u can help? You’re not bothering in any kind of way. Trust me,” y/n said as she turned to look at Bob.

Y/n’s stomached filled with butterflies at the way Bob was looking at her. “I appreciate you, y/n, you know that, right?” Bob asked as he scanned her face, falling in love with her for probably the thousandth time today.

“And, why is that?” Y/n asked, knowing why, but wanting him to speak about her in a way that may make her fall for him harder. “I mean- Just look at you. A gorgeous girl wanting to take care of me — That sounds like a dream,”

“I think you’re over exaggerating just a little bit,” y/n said as she went to tuck under her covers but Bob stopped her by moving closer to put his hand in her cheek. “Not even a little,” Bob said, feeling some courage to show her how much he appreciates her.

“I don’t know what to say,” y/n spoke low, now feeling shy. “You never have to say anything to make me happy,” Bob said as his eyes sprightly glowed yellow. “You’re perfect no matter what you do or say,” y/n was at a loss for words at the moment.

Bob has never been then type of man to have confidence and show it. This was very new for him and her, and she didn’t know how to react. She was happy, yet too shocked to say anything.

“I think I’m actually happy,” was the last thing Bob said before he leaned into y/n, connecting his lips onto hers. Before either of them could settle in, Bob deepened the kiss as he moved on top of her.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, and I’ll stop — I promise,” Bob pulled back to make sure he wasn’t ruining anything by his quick decisions. “I would never tell you to stop. Ever,”

That’s all it took for y/n and Bob to be sweating, moaning, and shaking underneath the covers. They both weren’t to experienced, or had a great person to do this with. Now, they finally do.

“I swear, I love you, y/n — I really do. You’ve changed my perspective on life — On living,” Bob said as he softly, but same time roughly thrusted down into y/n. “I-I’m glad I could h-help,” y/n stuttered as her back arched.

“I want you to — I need you,

[sticktothestars]

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 , " 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 . " ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

a/n: *walks in, twiddling my thumbs* so i watched thunderbolts. we're just gonna say that i totally didn't fall in love with bob. AVENGERS FOUND FAMILY FANFICS ARE SO BACK GUYS. FHDSFFJ I'LL MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT WHAT I THOUGHT ABOUT THE MOVIE, BUT YEAAH. I LOWKEY AM SUPER EXCITED & I CAN'T WAIT FOR YALL TO READ THIS 'CUZ I'VE BEEN HAVING THIS IDEA STUCK IN MY HEAD & IT WON'T GO AWAY. ANYWAY, IMMA STOP YAPPING NOW. ENJOOOYY!!1 (ALSO. you have the powers/fighting style of deadpool!)

paring: robert/bob reynolds x male!reader

word count: 1k+

warnings: slight spoilers for thunderbolts* if you haven't seen it. takes place post movie. slight cursing. contains a shit ton of angst & hard topics like anxiety attacks, child abuse, gore, & character death are mentioned throughout this oneshot. yeah i lowkey kind of spiraled while writing this lmfaooo.

════════════════════════════════════════════

──★

IF you told the [Y/N] from 3 months ago that you'd be working with the new avengers, you would've laughed HARD in your own face. Seriously. It would've lasted for like 7 minutes before you'd probably go tell you to fuck off or something. But now that you was here - saving people instead of being the one to end people for money - it felt trippy thing to even consider. Especially with the things you've done in your past. Despite your initial hesitation on even teaming up with this unstable group of people, you couldn't help but feel a LOT more happier than how you was before.

Maybe it was just the fact that saving people felt good or that you finally had a purpose in life - but no. It was something completely different. You was finally around people who understood what it felt like to not feel like they didn't deserve anything good or be stuck in an endless loop that just hurted you even more. It felt like a HUGE breathe of fresh air. Or maybe it was because you were around him like 99.99% of the time now after everything.

You met Bob in... troubling circumstances, to say the least. Bucky - a good friend of yours - contacted you while you were in New York in retirement from your mercenary past. You were honestly struggling a little. Working as an unsuspecting barista for some cozy coffee shop was nice & all, but it felt.. meaningless. So with one last second thought, you put your suit on & rode your motorcycle to a new mission. Which ended well overall, but with a lot of memories you wanted to lock away unfortunately.

But since then, the two of you have grown closer - especially since you were living together amongst the others in the Avenger's base. Bob obviously couldn't go on the missions due to not being able to control his powers all that well. You try to help him out the best you can when you're there.

...But sometimes that helping could go sideways.

──★

[Y/N]'s flicked open as he noticed the surroundings around him. Where was he? Just a moment ago he was sparring with Bob in the training room & then..

" Oh fuck.. " you muttered with a sigh as you realized what's happening. Your gaze fixes on a teen version of you - freshly scarred, WAY more defensive - yet afraid. Like there was something out for him. You knew what this was. You knew it all too well.

Back before you became a mercenary, you were a cage fighter in Orlando - trafficked at 7 & escaped at 16. 9 years of horror. Yeah that fucked you up pretty bad. Of course it would. But you had friends. It what kept you sane.

But they took that away too along with your dignity.

One night - when you were 16 - a new match was starting. They didn't tell you who the opponent would be. They never did. To them, it was just another body to throw away for entertainment. Having survived for so long & having so much blood on your hands, you'd think that you'd get used to it by now. But it only just got worse from there.

You stood there, watching yourself as your younger self enter the cage - a look of uneasiness on your younger self's face, tuning out the crowd of people as they cheered for blood. But you? You just wanted to know who else? Who else's blood would you have on your hands? As your opponent stumbles out into the cage with a shove from one of the guards just outside the cage, you saw your heart drop. Just by the horror on your own face.

Your opponent was your best friend, Liam. The Liam who stuck by your side through the last 9 years you've been here. The Liam who managed to make you laugh when things got that dark. The Liam who was your anchor. The Liam who you absolute adored like an older brother. You couldn't do it. You refused to. You couldn't do it if you tried.

" ... No.. No I'm not hurting him. You can't make me kill him. " You refused, backing away & banging on the cage's exit. Liam just watched you. He watched you try to figure out something. Anything to stop this match from happening. Liam knew this would happen soon. He was prepared for this. Hell, maybe he even prepared this moment from the start. You know that now. You wish you knew it sooner.

" [Y/N]. " Liam says gently, his voice calm - causing the younger you's attention to snap towards him, eyes tearing up as you tried to say something. Anything. But only a mournful silence filled between the two of you as the crowd cheered for the two of you to fight. You shook your head, keeping your head down.

" [Y/N], you have to. " Liam says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder as he approached. You just shook your head. " No- No- I-i-i can't- " You stammered out, clenching your fists so tight you felt as though you were bleeding slightly through your bandages.

" They'll kill you if you don't, kid. " Liam states. " I don't fucking care. " You say back, holding yourself close as you look back up at the 20 year old you've grown to be so attached to.

Liam sighs. " Well start caring. You're surviving. Even if it means killing me too. " The brunette says sternly.

" No! I'm not losing you! And I'm not listening to them anymore just to survive! " You call out so everyone can hear. The crowd boos, insults rolling out into the arena like a hurricane. The ringleader scoffs, motioning the guards to ready & aim at you.

Liam clocks this & horror enters his face, shielding you as bullets & sparks fly - the crowd falling silent. The bullets stop. Everything stops as a body slumps onto the ground. But it wasn't yours. It was Liam's. You stare at the hole covered body for what feels like a lifetime. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think straight.

Only when a guard grabs you is when you react is when you scream, absolute anguish & horror in your voice as it breaks as you're dragged out of the arena - new plans settled for you that changed your dna & life forever. The present you doesn't look away from Liam's corpse. You felt yourself spiraling within your regrets over the What If's.

What if you had let Liam kill you that day? You didn't deserve to live. Especially with the blood on your hands. The things you did without mercy. But Liam? He was kind. He was good. He deserved way better. He was so good & no one else ever got to see that goodness in him.

You scratched at the collar of your shirt, trying to force yourself to breathe but you couldn't. Everything felt so meaningless. You were meaningless. You were the problem because you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

Fuck. Everything felt so heavy. You collapsed to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut but Liam's lifeless body kept coming in again & again like a broken melody.

๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

" 'M sorry- M' so sorry- I-i should've known this would happen- I'm so fucking sorry- " A panicked & oh so familiar voice called out, snapping you out of your vision to feel Bob holding you in his arms tight as you sobbed. You hold onto his warmth, clenching his shirt. The two of you stay there for a while. Which seemed like forever. But neither one of you complained.

You sniffle slightly, letting your head nuzzle into the crook of the other's neck. And Bob just held you tighter. He couldn't let you go through this again. He couldn't bear seeing you hurt because of him.

You were probably one of the coolest people on the team, but seeing you fall apart like this felt gut wrenching. He mutters out more apologies, his chin resting on your head.

He's made everything worse again.

And to you of all people.

The man he absolutely adores.

──★

lowkey locked tf in on this one idk. hope yall enjoyed tho lowkey !! lemme know if yall want a part two or smthin cuz i'm down. SEND ME MORE REQUESTS PUHLEASEE.

anyways, that's it for now !! BUH BYEEE ^^

── DAMIEN ★

[roosterforme]

Brighter Than a Supernova | Bob Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister

Summary: Bob planned to simply stop by Phoenix's Hanukkah party for a few minutes before heading back home. He'd hang out with the guys for a bit, even though he never quite felt like he fit in with them, and he'd meet the little sister Phoenix often referred to as annoying. But he had no idea how bright and magical one night could be compared to every other night that had come before.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, feeling insecure, loss of virginity, smut, drinking

Length: 9000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister (OC)

This was written for the Winter RomCom Challenge hosted by @bellaireland1981! Check my masterlist for more. Beautiful banner made by @ryebecca

"Bob, you're coming over tomorrow night, right?"

When he turned to look at his friend, Bob couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that washed over him. "I think so."

Natasha sighed and reached for his hand and gave him a little squeeze. He hadn't been at Top Gun as long as everyone else, and he felt like he didn't really fit in with them. Even now, the other guys were all hooting and playing keep away with Reuben's phone while Bob stood off to the side on the tarmac. 

"There's nothing to be nervous about. It's just a Hanukkah party," she whispered with a smile. She always seemed to be able to tell when he got lost in his own thoughts, and he would be forever grateful that she was the pilot he got to fly with. 

He shook his head and looked over at their Super Hornet. "I've never been to one before," he muttered. "And I'll probably just end up sitting quietly all night."

Now Natasha was squeezing both of his hands. "But we already drew names for our gift exchange. And you won't be the only one newer to the group. My obnoxious little sister, Nova, is coming in from New York, remember? She's graduating from college in the spring? She hasn't met any of the guys yet."

"But-"

"Bob, I really want you to come," she said firmly, looking up at him with her dark brown eyes. He trusted her in the air, he might as well trust her on the ground, too. 

"Okay. I'll be there."

But when Bob parked his truck in front of Phoenix's tiny house on Saturday evening, his hands were shaking slightly as he held the wrapped gift. He absolutely hated that he got this way around the guys. They hadn't done anything to make him feel this way, really. He just generally didn't fit in anywhere, something he was very aware of at age twenty eight. But he would do this for Natasha. 

He climbed out of his truck with the gift and a bottle of wine and walked up to the front door. Should he knock? Or just walk inside? It sounded noisy even out here, so after he tapped on the door a few times and nobody opened it, he just let himself in.

"Bob's here!" Jake called out from the couch, waving him over to where he was drinking a beer while Javy tried to spin two dreidels at the same time.  

"Bob!" Natasha practically shouted as she ran his way. He had to juggle the bottle of wine so he didn't drop it. "Can you help me make latkes? Nova and I have been peeling potatoes for what feels like hours, and now we're heating up the oil."

"I don't know how to make latkes," he told her, but his eyes caught on the woman standing in the kitchen laughing at Bradley. He could only see her profile, but she had long, dark brown hair just like Natasha. Only she was a little taller and a bit curvier, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, he wanted to run and hide. 

"It's easy, Bob. It's just a potato pancake. Nothing scary," Natasha whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "Come meet Nova, and you can help us cook."

He swallowed hard, realizing that the brunette goddess holding a potato peeler in one while she smiled directly at him was Natasha's little sister. The one she always referred to as obnoxious and annoying. This was... decidedly not what he had imagined. 

Bob didn't know where to look. Every part of her was so pretty. She was wearing black leggings and a cropped long sleeve shirt that was purple and said NYU on the front. He could see some of the soft looking skin just above her leggings, and his eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. She was barefoot with neon orange painted toenails that for some reason made Bob a little short of breath.

"Bob, this is my sister Nova," Nat told him, rubbing his back gently as his gaze wandered back up along her curves. His eyes landed on her face as Natasha said, "Nova, this is Bob. Please don't annoy him."

"Hi," she said with a little smirk on her face. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached her hand out to him. "I've heard a lot about you, Bob."

He was terrified that he would stutter or trip over his words, but he just said something stupid instead. "You don't look annoying."

She laughed as she shook his hand. "Oh, I can assure you, I am." Her eyes were the same color as her sister's, but they were looking at him playfully as she nibbled on her lip. It was easy to tell Nova and Natasha were sisters, but there were some differences, too. Bob had the fleeting thought that he wouldn't mind just looking at her all night until he identified them all. 

"Feel free to ignore her," Nat told him as she went to stand in front of the stove. "I usually do."

"I don't see how that would be possible," Bob murmured, and Nova laughed again before he realized what he'd said. He could feel his cheeks flush as he tried to look at anything besides her, but as soon as he did, Bradley dove for her attention. 

"So tell me all about New York CIty," he said as if he'd never heard of it before. This was fine though. Better even. Nova and Bradley could just flirt all night, and Bob could help cook and then probably leave soon. That way everyone would win. 

After a few minutes, he desperately wanted to ask Natasha if they could cook any faster so he could open his impersonal gift from one of the guys and get going. But he found that making latkes was actually pretty enjoyable. 

"That's too much egg," she told him, laughing at his messy hands as his glasses slid down his nose. "You need more flour." But her hands were a mess, too, and Bob was trying to adjust his glasses on his shoulder. 

When he turned to the side, he saw Bradley, Mickey and Jake all talking to Nova, but she was actually looking right at him as he very awkwardly shrugged his shoulder against his glasses. "I got you, Bob," she said, closing the distance to him and helping him out. She adjusted his frames on his face, and then she ran her fingers along his hair and behind his ears. "Better?"

He watched her pull her hands away and wished she wouldn't. "Yes," he whispered. "Thank you." Then he just stared at her as she made no move to back away. 

"You're welcome. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?"

He swallowed hard as he washed his hands and shook his head. "This is my... first time."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Perfect! You can help me light the candles, and I can teach you the prayers."

"Might as well light the menorah now," Natasha told her as she flipped some of the squishy looking potato blobs over in the hot oil. The kitchen smelled like fried food, and there was a huge box of donuts that the other guys already got into. Javy brought the dreidels into the kitchen, and he was currently spinning five at one time. This holiday actually didn't seem so bad. Especially when Nova reached for his hand. 

"Gather around," she announced with the kind of confidence Bob would never have, and all the guys followed her to the other side of the island. But she kept Bob right there with her and smiled up at him. "Here you go," she said, handing him the lighter. Then she stuck some candles in the menorah. 

"Don't you light them from left to right?" Bradley asked as he sipped a beer and ate a jelly donut while glaring at Bob.

"Yes!" she replied as she put the last candle in for the eighth night. 

"You want me to light them for you, Bob?" Bradley asked, and Bob was just about to hand the lighter over when Nova reached for his hand.

"I'm going to say a really pretty prayer in Hebrew about how Hanukkah is a time to celebrate miracles," she told him, seemingly ignoring the rest of the guys as Jake started whining that he was hungry. But Bob was transfixed. He was suddenly dying to hear this prayer. He could see the light smattering of freckles on Nova's cheeks as he stood this close to her. He never noticed before if Nat had freckles.

It would be a Hanukkah miracle if Bob could get through the evening. When she told him to light the center candle and then pick it up, he did. And then her hand joined his as they lit the candles together, but Bob wasn't looking at the menorah. He was looking at her face and the way her lips moved as she almost sang the prayer. Then he kept his hand on hers as long as he could, the warm candlelight making her face glow. 

When she dropped her hand to her side, Bob could feel her fingers kind of tangle with his, and he had no idea what to do about it. He was suddenly painfully aware that he'd never had a girlfriend before, and he almost wished she was paying this much attention to someone else. 

"Latkes are done!" Natasha announced, and Bob took a step away from Nova. He cleared his throat and then turned to leave the kitchen as everyone else made a dash for the food. When he retreated for the relative quiet of the powder room, he could feel dark eyes on his back.

Bob realized he'd been in the bathroom for long enough that someone might think he was sick, but he couldn't stop splashing cool water on his face. He had been prepared for something else tonight, but not this. Maybe Nova was just an annoying little sister to Phoenix, but to him, she was exquisite. He needed to leave now before he could embarrass himself more. 

After he dried his hands, he quietly opened the door, but then he paused. He could hear voices. Two female voices, and he could easily tell them apart as he stood there eavesdropping.

"Natasha, you lied to me," Nova whispered loudly. "You said Bob was kind of nerdy!"

Oh no. She must have thought Bob was extremely nerdy. Perhaps he could make a run for the front door, and maybe nobody would notice he'd gone.

"I mean, he is," Natasha replied softly. 

"No, he's not!" Nova hissed. "He's hot! You know I have a thing for glasses and biceps, you rotten liar!"

Now Bob was frozen in place. He was pretty sure they were talking about him, but there was a chance he misheard.

"Nova," Natasha snapped a little louder this time. "Bob is one of my best friends, and he's very kind. Do not toy with him."

There was a pause, but then Bob heard her soft response. "I wouldn't. You can tell how sweet he is from a mile away."

He looked in the mirror one more time before leaving the powder room. It wasn't that he was bad looking, it was just that he was awkward. Compared to the other guys, he was a joke. Maybe Nova somehow hadn't noticed that yet. He forced himself out to the small hallway where the two sisters were standing close together near the kitchen, and the way Nova looked at him just didn't make sense. 

"Grab some latkes," she said as he walked past. "I'll save you a spot on the couch for the gift exchange?"

Bob swallowed hard. "Sure. Thank you."

When he ducked into the kitchen, he heard her whisper to Nat, "He has nice manners, too."

Nat groaned. "I can't believe you have a crush on my WSO."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have kept this information from me."

Bob was anxiously piling a plate with more latkes than he could probably finish when Nova flounced into the room, picked up her half empty glass of wine along with an unused one and winked at him. "I'll be in the living room, and I have a glass for you," she said.

He looked down at the potato concoctions on his plate, and they looked good. He tried a bite, and it was delicious, but he'd lost his appetite. Nova Trace had a crush on him, and now he had to go sit with her and drink some wine without looking like a moron. 

After a few more bites, he pushed his plate aside and headed to the living room where she was sitting right next to Bradley. He had his arm draped across the back of the couch a little possessively, and Bob froze, blinking at the scene before him. He had the undeniable urge to remove Bradley's arm and wrap her up with own. 

"Bob," she called, scooting away from Bradley and patting the cushion. Once he squeezed in between her and Bradley, he realized he was touching her no matter what he did. And then she took his arm and draped it around her shoulders, leaning back against his chest a little bit. "It's a tight fit," she said, handing him a glass of wine. 

"Seriously?" Bradley grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Bob wasn't sure what to say as he had an armful of the cute girl who was in demand. This was all new to him. So he just drank all of his wine and pretended to watch everyone open their gifts. 

When he set his empty glass down on the table, Nat handed him a small box wrapped in silver paper. He didn't recognize the pretty handwriting that said To: Bob.

"Oh," Nova whispered, reaching for it. "You don't have to open it."

"It's from you?" Bob asked, and she looked up at him over her shoulder, face just inches from his.

"Yeah, but it just seems kind of dumb now," she muttered, playing with the hem of her top. "Nat made it seem like you were super nerdy or something," she laughed. "And clearly that's not the case. You're hot."

Bob chuckled; this whole entire night was completely absurd. "I've never been called hot before."

Nova rolled her eyes. "You know what? Just go ahead and open your present," she said, shoving the small box closer to his chest while she blushed. 

Bob started to carefully tear into the paper when Bradley leaned across Bob and asked, "I'm sorry, Nova, but did you just call Bob hot?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. 

Bradley stood and grunted while he put on the hat that Javy just gave him that said 100% Certified Fuckboy. "She picked Bob. Nice work man," he said, patting Bob's shoulder. "Who needs a beer?"

"I do," Nat told him as she eyed Bob and Nova together on the couch with curiosity. Bob wasn't sure what he should even say to her. It wasn't like he was going to date her sister or something. She lived in New York.

"Open it," Nova whispered. "Just open it so I can get my embarrassment over with."

Bob couldn't believe she seemed more embarrassed about the gift than she did about announcing to the room at large that she found him attractive. When he took the lid off the box and looked inside, it was filled with a set of sky blue dice. 

"I'm sorry," she said with a laugh. "Nat said you play Dungeons and Dragons, and I found the dice and thought they were pretty, and now I'm noticing that they're kind of the same shade as your eyes." She took the box from him, put the lid on and set it aside.

"Wait," he said, reaching across her to pick it up again. "I do play. And light blue is my favorite color. How did you know?"

"I didn't," she said, cheeks pink. "It's my favorite color, too."

He could see her freckles again as she grinned so close to him. Bob suddenly realized that the living room was getting loud as he held the box between his body and hers. "Thank you. I really like them. I was a little afraid to see what the guys were going to buy for me, so I'm glad it was from you."

"Nat dropped down on the couch on the other side of Bob as she spun the keychain around her finger that Bob got for her. "Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek as the airplane charm hit her palm. The guys were spinning as many dreidels on the coffee table as they could while fighting over the mound of chocolate candy coins. "You know, if it's a little too loud, you could always step outside for a minute," she told him, patting his thigh before joining the guys. 

"Let's take a break," Nova said as she stood and pulled him to his feet. Bob felt like Nat had just given him some sort of permission. But for what? "I could use a break as well. It's hot in here." 

She opened the front door and slipped out into the darkness on the small porch, and Bob joined her, closing the door and stifling the sounds inside. "Aren't your feet going to get cold?" he asked softly, looking down at her neon toenails.

"Good call," she replied before wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tops of his shoes. Bob's hands went to the soft curve of her waist immediately, startled by the sudden turn of events that had Nova's body pressed to his. "Is this okay?" she asked casually, looking up at him as she let her fingers trail down his neck.

His body was throbbing in delight as his brain cried out in terror. "Y-Yes. It's... very okay. You're very pretty." His eyes went wide as she laughed, and it sounded too intimate this close. He could feel her bare skin against his fingertips, and it was so soft. Softer than anything. He couldn't help the way he let his palms spread out on her back, as he blurted out, "I like you."

He noticed her soft smile first, and then her eyes closed. Bob was admiring how her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she said, "I like you, too." And then she kissed him. She just kissed him. It was suddenly time for kissing. And then it was over before Bob really got to enjoy it. Nova was looking up at him like she was trying to gauge his reaction, but he just stood there trying to figure out what to do next. 

Her fingers stilled on his neck before she released him and tried to step away, her face falling into a much shyer look. But he kept his hands on her back. Her lips were softly parted, and Bob wanted them on his again. Even though he wasn't quite sure if he was doing any of it right, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers a little too hard at first. 

She moaned softly as she brought her hands back up around his neck, and Bob eased himself back a little bit, making the kiss softer. This felt good. She had smooth skin and eager lips, and now her fingers were in his hair as her cheek bumped his glasses. He felt like he was getting the hang of things when she parted her lips and tasted his tongue. 

Bob's hands slid down to grab at her hips through her leggings, and Nova laughed softly as she tasted him again. The soft vibrations against his lips had him more aware of his body than he ever had been before, but not in a bad way. He seemed to be making her feel excited as she wiggled her curvy hips back and forth slightly in his hands. 

Nova broke the kiss and raked her fingers along his forehead and back through his tidy hair. "You smell good," she told him, leaning in close again and running her nose along his neck. "Like... something outdoorsy mixed with a fried potato."

He couldn't help but laugh as she kissed the spot next to his Adam's apple. "That sounds like it would smell bad."

"It doesn't," she reassured him with a giggle. "It just makes me want to taste you." Bob had to press his lips together and count to ten in his head as Nova ran her tongue in a slow and steady stripe up his neck to his ear. When her lips met his earlobe, his hands on her hips were pulling her body closer to his as she said, "I could eat you up."

She was still standing on the tops of his feet, but now Bob had her back pressed against the doorframe. They were making out, and it was all coming pretty naturally for him. She kissed his neck and told him something sweet, so he decided to go ahead and try the same thing. "I think I love kissing you," he said, his voice raspier than normal as she tipped her head back.

Nova was moaning his name as he kissed the front of her neck, and she pressed her thigh against him. And oh no... Bob had an erection. She didn't seem bothered, but he pulled himself a few inches away from her and looked down at her pretty face. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. 

"Should we?" he asked softly, sliding his hands back up to her waist as she shrugged. 

"Probably. But I'm sure they all know exactly what we're doing out here."

His eyes went wide. "They do?"

She smiled and ran her fingers along his cheek. "Yeah, I'd venture to guess they know we were making out, Bob."

How was he supposed to go back inside now? He thought about just leaving; his truck was parked right there on the street. But he didn't want to go without his new dice. Or Nova.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah... maybe we should go back in."

"Okay." But first she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pressed one more soft kiss to his lips. "Just let me know if you want to take another break, because I'd be more than happy to tag along."

Then she opened the door, and the bright light and loud laughter coming from inside were enough to have him reaching for Nova's hand as she stepped down from his feet and onto the living room floor. She looked back at him with a coy smile as she laced her fingers with his. It was so obvious that they had been kissing. Bob knew he was blushing, and her lips looked a little puffy from the way he'd been enjoying them. When Jake fist bumped him as they walked past, Javy winked, and Bradley was on the couch with Nat pouting. 

But Nat smiled and shook her head as Nova led Bob into the kitchen. "Want some more wine?" she asked, pulling a bottle from the refrigerator. There was something about the way she looked in the semi darkness as the candles from the menorah burned low. Her face was cast in warm light as well as shadows, and Bob found that leaning down to kiss her again was the most natural thing in the world. 

The cold bottle was pressed to his arm, and she kissed him back. When Bob opened his eyes again, his glasses were crooked and two of the candles had burned out. The kitchen was even darker now as she pecked his cheek and then strolled out into the living room. He took a few seconds to consider that now he'd initiated more kisses than she had. The desire to follow her and kiss her again was so strong, he almost tripped when he thought about her going back to New York. Had he ever felt this way about a girl after a few hours? No. Absolutely not.

He knew he should have found another place to sit in Nat's tiny, loud living room, but when he saw the spot on the couch next to Nova was empty, he couldn't force his steps in any other direction. She tracked him with her eyes, clearly feeling no shame about what was happening here. 

"How much have the rest of you had to drink?" she asked the guys. Jake was laying on the floor laughing while Javy tried to spin a dreidel on his nose. Bradley's cheeks were bright red, and he was half asleep at the other end of the couch. Mickey actually was asleep in the armchair. The only one who looked okay was Reuben. 

"A lot," Javy said. "We turned dreidels into a drinking game, and clearly Nat is better than the rest of us." Nat winked at Nova who winked back. "And Mickey can't hold his liquor for shit."

Nova laughed at him in the armchair. "Is that a WSO thing, Bob? Or can you handle another glass of wine?" she teased. 

"I can handle what you give me," he replied before he could consider how that might sound. She gasped softly and kind of nodded as she poured some more into his glass from earlier. 

"I guess we'll find out."

She tapped her glass to his, and they joined in the game with the others. Bob had never played before, but he was a quick study. It certainly didn't hurt that Nova kept touching his hands as she taught him what to do. And two glasses of wine later, Bob felt lighter and more carefree. His right hand was resting on her lower back, and she leaned in to his side as the game progressed. And the best part was, Nat seemed more than okay with this.

In fact, as midnight was fast approaching, Nat stood and stretched. "I'm beat. I don't care who stays over, but Nova is in the extra bedroom, so the rest of you can fight over the couches."

Bradley and Mickey both snored in response while Reuben started to gather Jake and Javy off the floor. "I'll drop the two of you off," he said. "It was nice to meet you, Nova. Thanks, Nat."

"Thanks, Nat," Javy and Jake echoed as Nat waved. Nova blew them each a kiss. 

Once they were gone, Nat started to gather up the empty wine bottles to take them into the kitchen, and Bob figured he should get ready to go as well. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked his friend, but she just waved him off. "No, I insist," he added.

He picked up some more of the trash the guys left, and as soon as he and Nova both stood, Bradley stretched out on the couch. "Just leave the rest of the mess. It's honestly fine. We can clean it up tomorrow," Nat said as she looked at her sister. 

Nova nodded. "Yeah, I'll help you clean everything when we wake up." 

They carried the trash they had already gathered in their arms to the kitchen, and then Nat hugged her sister before kissing Bob's cheek. "I'm assuming I'll see you again quite soon," she told him with an amused expression before she headed for the stairs. 

Bob wasn't sure exactly what that was supposed to mean, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. Right now he had to figure out a way to say goodbye to the woman in front of him. He wondered if there was some way he could tell her that the few hours he spent with her somehow meant something to him. If she lived in San Diego, he thought he would very much like to take her to dinner. Maybe he could figure out a way to say so without completely ruining the moments they'd shared tonight.

"Nova, I-"

It was time for more kissing. She didn't hesitate at all, almost like she felt as comfortable with this as he did. Her hand found the bottom of Bob's tee shirt and eased the fabric up so her palm could rest flat on his abs. She nibbled gently on his lip before she let him taste her tongue. She was sweet like wine. Then his hands were back on her hips again as she eased his shirt up a little further. 

"You had a lot to drink," she whispered with a wink, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "Maybe you should come upstairs with me?" Bob wasn't drunk in the least, and he thought he knew what she meant. When his posture stiffened, she looked up at him. "It's just a twin bed, but we can both fit. If you want."

"You mean to... sleep?" he asked, embarrassed that he had to confirm instead of just knowing how to do things. 

Her hand glided down to the top of his jeans, and she laughed softly. "We don't have to mess around," she said as she kissed his lips softly. "But I don't think I can keep my lips away from yours."

When Bob nodded in agreement, heart pounding rapidly, she took him by the hand. Mickey and Bradley were both sound asleep in the living room where Bob made sure to grab his box of dice. Then he let Nova lead him upstairs. 

She looked back to smile at him a few times and tugged on his hand when he started to fall behind. Once they were in the extra bedroom with the soft lamplight and the door closed, Nova seemed a little more hesitant.

"Well, there's the twin bed," she said, gesturing toward it before putting her hands on her hips. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and laughed as she looked at the floor. "And I mean, obviously this was all a ploy to get to spend more time with you. But also, I don't think you should drive home after drinking so much wine." She paused before adding, "But mostly I just kind of thought maybe you and I could keep talking and making out."

Bob smiled when she looked up at him. "Yeah, I would like that."

She bit her lip, and Bob swore he had never in his life seen a woman who was so eager to be around him. He toed off his shoes before reaching for her hand again. And then he decided he was going to go for it. He was going to say what was on his mind as they both sat down on the edge of the bed together. 

"Hey, Nova? I..." he paused as he looked at her pretty face, and he had to clear his throat before he kept going. "You're really... I like you a lot, and I just wanted you to know that if you lived in San Diego, I would ask you on a date."

She scooted a little closer and let her hand come to rest on his thigh. "Where would you take me?" she asked, pressing her lips to his jaw as he stuttered.

"I would... I'd take you to um, a restaurant that I like called Starlite. It's in the city. It's really pretty inside at night, and they have fairy lights and champagne. And I think you'd look beautiful sitting at one of the tables with me."

"Oh my god," she moaned against his jaw, and Bob had absolutely no control over how his body was reacting to her. "Tell me more."

He tried to keep talking as she moved her hand further up his thigh, but he wasn't sure he was making sense. "I'd get you whatever you wanted, of course. But the steak is really good, so I'd ask if you wanted that. And. And I'd be hoping the waiter was really slow, because you'd look so pretty with the soft lights all around you. I'd want to keep you there with me as long as I could."

"I want to go," Nova whispered, kissing his ear. "I can practically picture it."

Bob closed his eyes, willing his cock to stop having a mind of its own as her fingers went as high as the bottoms of his boxer briefs. If she kept this up, Bob would have to excuse himself, and he really didn't want to leave her right now. Then she straddled his thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck, and Bob's arms were full of her. 

"I wish we could," he whispered, unsure what to do with his hands. "I'd take you there tomorrow, but Nat told me you're flying back east in the evening." He finally let his hands settle on her waist as she nodded sadly. 

"I am," she said as her lips brushed his. "But just humor me. Would you kiss me at Starlite?"

"I'd have to," he replied immediately. "It would be mandatory. All the light and shadows on your face... you'd be ethereal. And if you were looking at me, I wouldn't be able to help myself."

"Bob," she moaned against his lips, nibbling on him softly as her fingers went to his hair. "And where would you take me for our second date?"

He laughed as she licked his tongue. "You'd go out with me a second time?"

"You're joking right?" Nova asked, pulling back a few inches as she played with his hair. "This is all hypothetical, and it's still the best date I've ever been on."

"Okay," Bob replied, and he couldn't help but smile as she nodded for him to go on. "For our second date, I'd take you to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater."

"What would we watch?" she asked, smiling as Bob let his hands drift up a little bit under her shirt. 

He shrugged. "Probably a foreign film. You'd think it was cool, but I'd just be watching the way the colorful lights flickered across your face."

She squeaked softly. "Can we pretend we're at the theater now?"

"Sure," he whispered with a smile. "We're at the theater. You look beautiful, reading all the subtitles. But I lost track of the plot of the film already."

"Why's that?" she asked with a grin.

"Can't pay attention to anything except you."

She pushed on his chest until he was laying on his back, her long hair brushing the side of his face as she leaned down to kiss him. She was rubbing herself against his hard length through his jeans and making little sounds that he'd never heard before. His hands were stroking higher, and he could feel her bra with his fingertips. He didn't want any of this to stop.

"Now you seem like a respectable guy, Bob," she murmured. "Would you take me home with you after our second date or make me wait until our third?"

Oh no. Bob loosened his grip on her as he went silent. Nova was still kissing her way across his cheek to his ear when her movements slowed. She eyed him curiously before nudging the rim of his glasses with her nose. 

"Bob?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I've never... taken a girl home before."

She looked down at him with a soft smile on her lips. "What?" she asked as she pushed her fingers back through his hair. 

Bob was terrified that she would stop touching him as soon as he said the words. She was so lovely, gravitating right to him all night just the same way he subconsciously felt like he wanted to be near her. He already recognized that he could fall for his friend's little sister. Maybe he already had. 

He took a deep breath as he adjusted his glasses. She was waiting for him to respond, and there was no point in lying about it now. "I'm a virgin."

Nova's brow creased, and her lips parted wordlessly. She examined his face, probably trying to see if he was lying, because there's no way someone his age shouldn't have lost his virginity by now. And it was a million times worse for a guy than for a girl. He knew that. It was all so very embarrassing. 

She didn't laugh, rather she kissed the corner of his lips and simply asked, "How?"

Bob shrugged. "I'm awkward."

"No. You're hot," she replied, shaking her head. "That's not it."

He tried to turn his head and look away, but she followed his gaze until he returned her soft smile. "I'm not really sure," he whispered. "I got close a few times, but it just didn't seem right. That sounds dumb."

"No, it doesn't," she replied, surprising Bob as she kissed him again. "Are you picky?" she asked between each soft press of her lips to his.

"Yeah. Kind of," he told her honestly. "Always have been. Picky about who I spend time with.

She brushed her fingers back through his hair again, and Bob melted at her touch. "That makes sense. A guy like you should be picky."

Somehow Nova was making him feel a lot more normal about this as she wasn't shying away from him. "Picky," he confirmed. "And the timing was never right."

"That's important," she said with a smile. "You have to do what feels good to you."

Bob swallowed hard. He was picky, but he really liked Nova. And for some reason, tonight out of all nights kind of felt right. He could easily blame Nat's Hanukkah party and the soft glow of the menorah candles on Nova's face for getting him to this point. She was on top of him, still kissing him, and he didn't want this to end. 

"This feels good to me," he blurted out, reaching up to push his fingers through her dark hair. "Tonight feels right."

She nodded, smiling as she crawled off of him, leaving Bob a little cold as he missed the feeling of her immediately. He sat up on the bed as she crawled up to the pillows and whispered, "Come here." She coaxed him along until she was laying on the pillows and he was on top of her, bracing himself with his arms so he didn't hurt her. 

"Okay, so, we already went to Starlite for dinner and then to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. I'll give you until our third date to make your move," she whispered, grinning up at him as she ran he hands up his biceps. "Where are you taking me?"

He took a deep breath; now was not the time for this wave of confidence to falter. "Cliffs beach. I'm packing a picnic, and we can sit in the bed of my truck and watch the sunset while we eat."

Nova moaned again and hooked her leg around Bob's thigh, pulling him impossibly closer. "Dinner was perfect. But now that the sun went down, I'm a little chilly."

"Well, I could keep you warm." He kissed her. "I'd hold you as I tried to work up the nerve to ask you if you wanted to come back to my place."

"I'm wrapped up in your arms, patiently waiting for you to ask," she replied with a smirk.

He nodded, and he knew he was blushing. This whole thing was kind of silly, but it just made sense. "I really like you. I could probably fall for you. If I let myself," he whispered, and she whimpered softly. "Do you want to come back to my place, Nova?"

"Absolutely."

Her hands were all over his face and in his hair, and eventually she took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. She kissed him slowly as she rolled her hips up against his, and Bob blushed as he got hard again. When she carefully pulled his shirt off, she set it next to the pillow, and then she explored his body with her hands. But as soon as she pulled her own NYU shirt off and was laying beneath him, she arched her back. 

Bob reached beneath her, and he fumbled for a few seconds before he unhooked her bra. As he pulled the black lace away from her body and looked down at her breasts and her confident face, he marked this as the furthest he'd ever gone with a woman. She seemed to sense he needed a moment as she ran her fingers through his hair as he stuttered, "You're gorgeous."

Nova looked up at him with her playful dark eyes, but right now they seemed a little more serious. "I could probably fall for you, too."

Then his lips were on hers, and his hands went to her breasts gently stroking each soft handful. He could fall for this, he was sure of it. He wanted to take her on all of those dates, and he would have if he could have. He was charmed by her, and she seemed equally interested in him. 

"Bob," she moaned, breaking the kiss and tipping her head back as he pushed himself against her core. He brought his lips down to taste her breasts, and soon she was rolling her hips a little faster. "That feels good," she whispered as she looked up at him. "I like that."

Nova responded just like that to everything he did. When he kissed the side of her neck, she blushed a pretty shade of pink. She shivered for him when he ran his fingers down her side. When he paused with his hand just above the top of her leggings, she whispered, "Bob, you're making me kind of crazy."

She guided his hand down a few more inches with her own, but she didn't get annoyed when he took his time pulling her leggings and underwear off. His heart was pounding as he looked at her, completely naked. Maybe she could sense his hesitation, because she sat up, too, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'll tell you if I don't like something, okay? And you do the same?"

He nodded. "I like everything so far. I just don't want to mess this up."

"You won't," she promised, taking his face in both of her hands and kissing him softly at first. Then her lips became more demanding, and Bob wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her on top of him. She giggled against his lips before swiping his tongue with her own. 

Her fingers roamed his bare torso and found the light trail of hair below his belly button. "I'm going to take your jeans off," she whispered, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping them. Her hair was already kind of a mess, and he knew his must have been as well. But then all thoughts left his mind as she started to pull his pants down. Bob wasn't dumb; he knew he was at least average size from the amount of time he'd spent in naval locker rooms. But he was surprised by her soft gasp when she pulled his underwear down far enough that his erection sprang free. Then his jeans, socks and underwear were in a pile at the bottom of the small bed, and he was naked, too.

He grunted as she wrapped her hand around him. This was the best thing he ever felt. Until she kissed him there. "Oh god, Nova. Wait," he moaned, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Don't we need a condom?"

She responded by licking his length before crawling up his body to kiss his lips. "I can go ask my sister if she has any if you want to use one." 

"No!" he gasped, nearly headbutting her as he sat up. "No, don't do that." Bob wasn't sure that Natasha would respond kindly to that question coming from her sister. "Please don't."

But Nova was all smiles as she straddled his waist. "Okay," she whispered as he braced himself with his hand behind him on the bed. "I won't alert Natasha to the fact that we're about to have sex."

Bob sighed in relief and reached out to push her hair behind her ear. "Actually, if you could not mention her again right now, that would be great." 

Now she was laughing softly as she scooted up until Bob could feel her wet pussy rubbing his cock. "Promise," she confirmed as he looked up at her face. When he glanced down between them, all he could see was her perfect body and his cock jumping against her in excitement. "I'm on birth control anyway," she whispered, kissing along his jaw. "And I know you're a little nervous, but so am I."

"Why?" he asked, surprised by her words. 

Nova hummed as she kissed her way back to his lips. "I want this to feel good for you." She wrapped her arms around his neck as she slowly rolled her hips against him and made the softest sounds. His heart rate picked up as she added, "I want you to think about our hypothetical dates after I'm gone."

He was sure he would be thinking about Nova for a very long time. She was all gentle fingers in his hair and confident smiles. She was beautiful, and Bob could easily get addicted to this. 

She guided him to lay back on the pillows as she asked, "You ready?" 

"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse as he looked up at her and pushed her hair over one shoulder. When he let his hands trail over the soft skin of her shoulders, breasts and sides, she shivered as she kissed him. Bob could feel her hand around his length, and then his head tipped away from her as he moaned. "Does that feel good?"

Good. That didn't seem like the right word for it, but now his brain felt a little hazy. Nova's lips ghosted over his as he moaned again. She felt tight and inviting, and when she rolled her hips with him inside her like this, Bob gripped her hip a little tighter. His other hand ended up tangled in her hair as he traced her freckled cheek with his thumb. "Nova," he gasped against her lips before devouring her. 

Her soft noises got a little louder, and each roll of her hips had Bob praying that this would never end. Every passing second was better than the last. Every time she whispered his name and tasted his tongue was too exciting. When she ended up on her back, looking up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, he kissed her neck and pushed himself deep inside her.

"Oh," she moaned, and he had to slowly shake his head to keep his focus. Her leg was hooked up around his hip, and he was suddenly very aware that he didn't know how to make her orgasm. 

"Nova?" he gasped as she reached for his hand. But he should have known she'd be willing to help him with this as she showed him where and how to rub her. 

"Fuck," she whined, taking a few gasping breaths. "That feels so good." He kept moving his hips, too, and a few seconds later, as she was nibbling on his lip and whining, he felt her squeezing around him. "Bob. Bob. Bob!"

Her back was arched off the bed, and her breasts bounced with every wild breath she took, and then he had no idea it would all happen so fast for him. He tucked his face against her neck and shoulder as he bucked into her without finesse. He couldn't control it. He came so hard, his vision looked like a kaleidoscope of colors when he opened his eyes. But she was right there, and she was perfect.

He half collapsed against her chest as she played with his hair, and it felt like it might have been a long time before he moved. Bob wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, and even though he thought he should feel timid, he didn't. He felt so relaxed and almost loved as she touched him like this. When he tipped his face up to look at her, she was smiling. 

He was picky, and the timing never felt right before now. But Nova was lovely, and tonight was the right night. "My Hanukkah wish is to go on all of those dates with you," he whispered, and she closed her eyes as she blushed. "And see how pretty you'd look with the sun setting and all the fairy lights."

She leaned up slightly to kiss his lips. "I wish we could."

As she laced her fingers with his, Bob whispered, "Maybe we can trade phone numbers? And talk until you get tired of me."

She nodded and asked, "And what if I don't ever get tired of you?"

Bob studied her face as she ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder. "Then we'll go on the dates for real."

Eventually they fell asleep around four in the morning after talking and having sex again. When Bob woke up at nine, it was to Nova's lips on his neck and her voice in his ear. "Morning, Bob." 

He just held her a little tighter. When they went downstairs, nobody was surprised they'd spent the night together, not even Nat. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and he ended up staying all day, even after Bradley and Mickey both left. He just wanted to be around Nova for as long as possible, but eventually he had to leave so her sister could take her to the airport. So she could go back to New York.

"I'll miss you," she promised when she walked him out to his truck. She took his phone and saved her number for him. 

"Should I text you now? So you have mine, too?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "Fair warning, once you text me, I'll write back and probably never stop."

Bob laughed softly and quickly typed up a text to her while she kissed his neck. 

I miss you already, and I didn't even leave yet.

Then he kissed her back until her sister started yelling out the front door about going to the airport. "Bye, Bob," Nova whispered before kissing his cheek and bounding back in the house. As he drove away, his phone lit up in the cup holder with a series of texts from her, and he hoped she was telling the truth when she said she wouldn't stop.

----------------------------

Five months later...

"Are you really this nervous to see her again?" Natasha asked him as they walked through JFK airport together. "You've talked to her everyday for months. Hell, you flew out to see her for a weekend in March."

Bob blushed as he thought about those three days when he'd been here during a late winter snowstorm that kept him and Nova inside her apartment for most of the weekend. She'd hardly let him out of her bed. And while they weren't dating, not exactly, Bob knew he wanted to be.

"Yeah, I'm a little nervous. She has no idea I'm here for her graduation. Do you know how hard it was to lie to her?"

Nat laughed as they walked outside in the May sunlight to get a cab to Nova's apartment. Bob was slightly afraid she'd be upset when they got there. Or maybe there would be evidence of another guy. It might break his heart, but he'd have to accept it. But he just couldn't get past that night they spent together during Hanukkah, and he'd been falling in love with her since then. Even over the phone.

"I'm sure she'll be happier to see you than me," Nat told him. It seemed like no time passed at all before they were pulling up to the building he'd only seen once when it was surrounded by a layer of snow. 

He got out of the cab and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk as Natasha got her phone out. She looked up at him with a smile as she called her sister. "I'm here," she said before looking at the blank screen. "She screamed and then hung up."

Bob laughed nervously with his backpack on and Nat's hand rubbing his arm in a soothing circle. "If she's not excited to see me, I'll just get a hotel room or try to exchange my ticket for something earlier," he mumbled. 

But the next thing he knew, Nova was throwing open the door to her building. She barely looked at her sister before she gasped, "Bob!" and launched herself down the stairs and into his arms. 

"Hi," he whispered as she clung to the front of him and shamelessly kissed his lips and neck right in front of her sister. "I missed you."

She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around him as she let her cheek rest on his chest. "You brought me Bob? Is he my graduation present?" she asked Natasha as Bob ran his fingers through her hair and chuckled.

"Something like that," she replied, reaching for the key that was still in Nova's hand. "I'll meet the two of you inside." 

As Nat let herself in the building, Nova looked up at him. "You lied to me. You said you had to work this weekend."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll never do it again." She was melting into his touch as he cleared his throat and added, "I know you're still going on interviews and trying to decide on a job, but I took next week off just in case I could persuade you to come back to San Diego for a bit."

She smiled. "Now why would I want to do that?"

Bob shrugged. "I just really think we should go on those three dates before I ask you to be my girlfriend."

"Starlite. Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. Cliffs beach," she said softly.

"In that order," he confirmed. "But I'd be taking you home with me after each one."

"Then yes."

---------------------------

Happy Holidays! I'll be thinking about Bob and Nova through the New Year. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @ryebecca

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[drabbles-mc]

Invisible Silver Linings (7/7)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x F!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, language, angst, mentions of scars, mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideations

Summary: You signed on to become part of a study when you realized that you didn't have anything left to lose. What harm could it really do? How much worse could it really get? ... You didn't expect to get answers to those questions. You also didn't expect to meet Bob. You'd end up thankful for at least one of those things.

Chapter Index

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: here we are! the last chapter! this is the last part of this particular story but i might write more for Bob and this reader down the road if y'all would be interested. i feel like there's more they could get into. lemme know what you think! and thank you to everyone who followed along on this journey with me! I'm looking forward to writing more of Bob in the future for sure xo

He came to on the hard, unforgiving pavement of New York City streets. He was surrounded by the groans and grumbles of the entire team around him as they also got themselves okay and upright. But beyond the immediacy of that, the city was alive with the sounds of sirens and chaos, and not the type people typically attributed to New York City.

He was waiting for someone to answer his question about what had happened when he heard another voice let out a groan of pain and confusion. His brows knit together as he turned around to try and find the source. Looking down, he was sure that he had slammed his head too hard on the ground and was hallucinating when he saw you. You were a little banged up from whatever you'd been through since he last saw you, but you were there. In front of him.

It'd felt like ages since you heard someone real say your name, someone who wasn't frantically screaming it out in the confines of your memories. It took a moment for it to register, at first just thinking that after so much monotony you'd been thrown into a new room once more. Even before it'd all come into focus, you were just glad, to hear something other than the bathtub faucet. The pain in your body was secondary to the relief. It was only when you heard your name again that you realized who exactly it was that was speaking to you.

Looking up, it felt like all of your bones instantly melted into jelly as you took in the sight of a disheveled, confused Bob staring down at you. He went to hold his hands out to help you up, but then pulled them away, knowing what had happened the last time his hands touched yours.

Every word you wanted to say got caught in your throat as you stared up at him. You watched him go back and forth between looking at you and looking at his hands. The frown on his face let you know that he was thinking about that day in the lab. But his hands were no longer the same color as all the shadows had been. His knuckles were scraped and bruised, but he was himself again in the ways that mattered to you.

Perhaps you should've shared some of his concern, especially after the torture you'd been enduring in the interim, but you didn't. Pressing your palms into the ground, you forced yourself up onto your feet. Bob was trying to stammer his way through some kind of sentence when you threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

He recoiled for a moment at the feeling of your arms around his neck, still afraid to return your embrace just in case he lost you again. But when he felt the way your sobs were racking your chest as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, he couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around you. He kept his hands closed into tight fists, like all the harm he had done came from his fingertips alone. You didn’t seem to notice, or if you did, he figured you didn’t care. The longer you held him, the harder it became for him to keep that final degree of separation from you. He unfurled his hands, allowing them to splay across your back.

The warmth of his palms through your shirt felt familiar. Focusing on that sensation alone, you could feel the way that he pressed his fingertips into you harder, going from afraid to touch you at all, to afraid that you were going to slip away. It didn't hit you until his fingers curled into your top that you realized the reason his touch felt so familiar was because it was the last thing that you felt before waking up on the pavement.

All he could think about was how it was his hands, his touch that had sent you away. But as you felt the tremble in his fingers you knew that it'd been what brought you back, too.

The two of you stood there like that for an amount of time neither of you would've been able to take a guess at before you finally let him go. Stepping back, your hands lingered on his shoulders for a moment before you finally brought them back to your sides. You brushed the tears off your face, unable to stop staring at him.

“You wouldn’t believe how good it is to see you,” you said, a little breathless from it all. “I thought for sure I was just gonna be—”

“I'm sorry,” he blurt out, cutting you off.

“What?”

“I'm sorry for what I did. To you. I'm sorry for wherever I sent you.” His voice weakened the longer he thought about it. “I didn’t mean to. I tried to say—”

It was your turn to interrupt. “I know.” You stepped in closer, not taking it personally that he reflexively took a tiny step back. “None of this makes any sense. At least,” you let out a tired laugh, “at least not to me.”

“Doesn't make much sense to us either,” Yelena spoke up, inserting herself into the scene that had been playing out in front of her. She waited until both you and Bob were looking at her to say, “Who are you?”

It hit you that you probably cut a bit of a strange image. Exhausted, filthy, and still in those stupid scrub-like pajamas they'd given you at the lab back when all of this started. Plus she'd never seen you before. What a first impression. You gave her your name, making a vague gesture over your shoulder like the building you were talking about was right there, not a pile of rubble miles and miles away. “We met in the lab. Test subjects and cell neighbors.”

Her face hardened at your words. “They tested on you too? Does that mean you can also—”

“No,” you said, shaking your head earnestly. “Whatever they did to me, didn't do much. Bad batch or whatever, maybe. Didn't, um, didn't really make it to phase two.” You paused, not sure if you should say what she was planning on saying next.

Luckily, Bob said it for you. “I got to them before they could.” It wasn't a statement of pride or accomplishment. He couldn’t look at you or Yelena as he said it.

She frowned but nodded, convinced enough for now. There were much larger problems to deal with at the moment. That fact was evidenced by the way that she and the rest of her team took off after a woman that you didn’t quite recognize, peppering her with questions and accusatory statements.

It left you and Bob behind in a small pile of rubble. Prying his gaze up from the ground, he looked at you with nothing in his eyes but worry and tears. “I'm sorry.”

You shook your head, feeling the familiar burn of your own tears forming. “I'm okay. I'm okay now. We're, you know, we're here.”

He pulled away, stuffing his hands into his pockets when you reached for them again. He gave a small shake of his head. “I don't…I can't control it, I don't think. Not all the way.”

You shrugged, reaching for his wrist anyway. “What've I got to lose?”

He hesitated. “You, you just got sunlight back. And clocks.”

You smiled. “That is true.” You pulled his hand out of his pocket. “But something tells me we'll be alright.”

It took him another second to finally unfurl his hand, to allow it to touch your skin. He was holding his breath as you went to slide your hand into his. And, for all the confidence you were doing your best to exude in an attempt to comfort him, you had to admit that your breath was caught in your throat as well.

Your fingertips glided over his palm, and the only thing that happened as a warmth spreading out over your entire body, starting from the center of your chest. Slipping your fingers between his, you grasped his hand. It was only when he did the same in turn and neither of you disappeared, no one got shuttered off to the dark recesses of their memories that Bob actually let himself breathe. His shoulders sagged from the relief of it all. And in that moment he looked just like the guy who had walked in and sat down on the floor next to you, who knows how many days ago at this point.

“Now what?” you asked, staring at his face while he stared at your joined hands.

“Um, I'm not—”

“Hey!” Yelena called out from farther down the block. “Reunite later. Finish the fight now, okay?” She looked at you. “I'm sure you're, yeah, but we have important things to finish.”

Bob's eyes went wide, all the other pressing matters coming to the forefront of his mind again. Clearly a lot had happened in your absence. “Right!” He looked at you. “Right. I gotta—”

You let go of his hand and gestured for him to go off with the rest of them. “Go. We’ll reunite later.”

He had a lopsided grin on his face as he nodded. “Okay. Later.”

He started to walk away when it hit you that just because you were back, later was not guaranteed. You might've been back in the real world with real people, but how much was that really worth in terms of reassurance? Even before all of this, you had come face to face with just how fleeting things could be, just how quickly it could all get ripped away. You'd accumulated enough regrets over the years, you weren't going to keep adding to the tally if you could help it. Not when you'd been reliving your worst regrets on repeat for so long.

Going after him, you caught his hand again. “Hey, wait a second.”

You pulled, causing him to turn back around so that he was facing you. For once his eyes widened with confusion that didn’t have the underlying layer of fear. Before he could ask what you needed, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. His eyes widened farther for a moment, not having expected a kiss in the wake of everything that had happened and all that he had put you through, but it didn’t stop him from kissing you back.

Bob kissed the same way that he spoke: soft, nervous, not quite sure what to do with his hands. You were almost certain that you could feel his heart racing in his chest as his lips moved against yours. It was everything. If you'd been worried up until that point that you were still stuck in some sort of fever dream, those worries were gone now. The feeling of him kissing you, of your palm against his cheek, they were the realest things that you had felt in ages. Your fingertips and palm warmed against his skin.

The concept of time had been foreign to you for so long now. You weren't sure if you stood there kissing him for five seconds or five minutes. However long it was, it wasn't enough to get the two of you yelled at by his team again.

As he took a step back, your hand fell back to your side from where it'd been against his cheek. He untangled his hand from yours, although the look in his eyes let you know how much he didn’t want to do that. Finally a comfort where worry had been living.

He couldn’t stop looking at you as he walked backwards towards where his team was. “I, I gotta,” he motioned over his shoulder, “but when I'm, when we're done I can—”

You put him out of his misery, knowing there were far too many thoughts flying around inside that head of his. All of them would take more time for him to explain and for you to understand than what you had at the moment. “I'll be here, Bob.” You gestured towards the rest of his team. “Go.”

“Right,” he said with a nod. “Okay.”

Turning around, he went to run and catch up with everyone else. You covered your mouth to stifle your laughter as he tripped and nearly tumbled to the ground as he tried to get to them. He caught himself and recovered, brushing himself off even though he hadn't fallen all the way down. When he looked back over his shoulder at you before disappearing through the curtain, you couldn’t help but to mirror the smile that he gave you. You gave him a small wave to send him off, and in the wake of all that had happened, everything leading up to meeting Bob and the chaos that had unfolded since, you had to admit it was the most okay you'd felt in a long time. The road ahead was still full of unknowns, but it didn't seem like you'd be facing them alone. Finally.

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[ourghoststories]

Broken Dreams | Part 1 (Robert "Bob" Reynolds [the Sentry] x Reader) Thunderbolts*

Warnings: mentions of mental health, drugs, abuse.

I had a difficult childhood from the start.

When I needed someone, no one was there – so I learnt to be there for myself, that’s how it always was.

Dad was off with the army and when he came back nothing was the same, he wasn’t the person he used to be, he was a shadow; a shell of his former self and was so heavily scarred he couldn’t function.

Much like me.

Mum was an assassin known as the midnight emperor and never learnt how to look after anyone, let alone a baby.

You see, dad wasn’t my dad at all, no- he was my stepdad if you could call him that.

He’d drink like the bottle was endless and smoke these cigarettes with such a specific smell I can almost recall it, but I only remember because he put them out on me, scarring my skin in so many places.

They both abused me, dad, psychologically and mum, physically.

My older sister vanished like a ghost.

I don’t blame her.

Mum wanted to make a ‘mini me’ of herself, something she drilled into me “I want to be proud of you” and she’d have me doing all these insane tasks or “missions” as she liked to call them.

Mum had me because I was one of her cruel ‘missions’, ‘have sex with your target and use the young one as leverage’.

So many times, I wish I knew who my real dad was but other times I was at peace with the uncertainty of knowing as if he was anywhere near as repulsive and ghastly mum was, there was no hope of a family reunion.

I wasn’t like them, until I was.

When they were around me all they’d do was fight, not just verbally, no, they’d fight like when the aliens took over New York and the Avengers were attacking; plus, they’d throw stuff and make a tip of the house that I, of course, had to clean up or no food for the day.

They’d lock me in cupboards, particularly mum, for hours to see how long I could cope, especially with them fighting in the background.

Or when she would pour boiling water over me when I would apparently be ‘sulking’ or ‘not get my own way’ or even better when she’d tie me down and purposely cut my nails too short.

I remember her telling me “You’re different, you’re not like the others y/n”, and that’s the only memory I have, all the rest fade to black like my emotions.

A glass smashed across the room, causing me to flinch – I was gonna get out of this household if it was now or never.

Don’t come near me, stop it, stop.

Everything paused.

I flinched and then woke up, I was living in an alternate reality, it felt so real.

What happened.

My mum came up, “did you have one of those dreams again’, she asked politely.

“Yeah… I guess I did, um. Sorry, I’m uh, really sorry” I stammered.

“Well, I brought you breakfast, sorry it isn’t the best, I ran out of-“.

“Thank you, p- please don’t apologise, sorry. Ah, now you’ve got me doing it” I said anxiously.

Mum wasn’t bad, she was my biggest support.

I did have a sister, but she just vanished after the blip, we don’t even know if she was alive or missing or otherwise, a fate we wouldn’t like to think of; before the blip she was scarce at the best of times.

It was dad who was the bad guy- that dream, the one with the assassin parents, that wasn’t me, it was one of those dreams slash premonitions or whatever they are.

It happens all the time, sometimes at night, other times early in the morning; it’s like some sort of all consuming void, it’s just bleak and dreary.

It started out with these dreams that I’d get consistently, the same ones over and over on repeat like Groundhog Day, about my mum, about my dad, the sister I barely knew, it would all come back, especially one about this guy I don’t know- although I’ve only seen him from afar.

“Darling, I think you need- “mum started to say.

“NO. I DON’T need help! Leave me alone” I yelled and everything started vibrating, before it all went black.

A room with floorboards and what looked like and attic appeared before me, there was a guy that appeared too.

He had shaggy longish brown hair and blue eyes and was handsome with a visible jawline.

It was him.

The guy that always appears in the dreams? I don’t even know what to call them, visions? It’s a work in progress.

“hey” he said quietly as he played with some sort of puzzle.

“I don’t know why I’m here, while you’re existing in my head” I said anxiously.

“Well, ah, y- you’re in m- my house um” he stuttered.

“I get this feeling” we both said in synchronicity.

“woah” I said breathlessly.

I find him kinda cute, oof.

“My uh, my name’s Bob, well Robert – technically that is but yeah, call me Rob- I mean Bob” he said fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m y/n. How is this happening? Do you know? Can you control this?” I asked, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Woah, woah, woah. I- um… I don’t know. I get these spells-“he continued by I interrupted.

“Me too. My mum said it’s-“I paused

“Ever since you did the trial? Me too- “he was saying before agitated voices started up from what it sounded like downstairs.

“This happen often?” I asked awkwardly.

“Yeah. Through my childhood a lot. Things weren’t okay and they don’t seem to be now. How fun.” He sighed.

I felt my chronic pain kick off and the feeling started, the voices downstairs stopped, and I could read into their mind, the ‘pain they were feeling was too much that humanly possible to handle’.

“You- you made it stop” he gasped.

Everything about this was weird but the weirdest was that you were fighting the feeling and focused on it, so that he didn’t have to feel it.

“Woah, a- are you okay? Y- you’re s- s- shaking a lot i- mean so am I, I shake a lot, sometimes it’s because I’m nervous or because- “he paused, “sorry I’m talking too much again” he rambled.

The weight of the world felt like it was on top of my shoulders, and I could feel the darkness rising and feeling like it was either gonna attack me, or take over.

I woke up to the sound of my mum screaming, it was a bloodcurdling scream.

Well, I guess at least it’s not me in pain for the millionth time in my life- that’s not fair.

Fuzziness overtook me until a few seconds later when I felt something red inside me, like some kind of visceral force streaming through me and I couldn’t control it; but it was definitely related to the screaming and the chaos that ensued.

My mum was on the ground, and I could see the veins and arteries popping out of her neck and face, actually, all over her body and she was convulsing.

As the feeling inside me ebbed and flowed, so did the amount of pain my mum was in.

After a while, everything stopped, and mum got up.

“What was that!? I could’ve died. I swear it’s you. Ever since you went to that drug trial, and they ruled you out as a participant. But they still did stuff to you. I can’t put my finger on it but there’s…”.

“Yes, I know, something wrong. That’s all anyone’s ever said about me mum. ‘Something’s wrong with her’, ‘she doesn’t belong here’, ‘we thought she liked being by herself’, ‘she’s not the same as everyone else’ and the list goes on” I sighed.

Just like when I was bullied and had to keep moving schools.

Just like when they said I was making the pain up for attention.

Just like when I was on the wrong medications, and I took drugs to help with it.

Just like when I was committed because I was high on a variety of pills and potions (too many to name) and I nearly jumped off a ship, or became paranoid, or whatever; you get the point.

I can’t even decide what to do, I’ve just been darting back and forth, trying to get used to this weird feeling that is bubbling below the surface, it’s- “started since you did that clinical trial, it was a dodgy place you got it done, just like a bad tattoo that gets infected” he said, knowingly.

“How did you know what I was gonna say?” I asked, exasperated.

“I didn’t, you’re overthinking too much. Now you’re thinking you can tell the future? You need to go back in” she spoke sternly.

Oh no, not again, I can’t be institutionalised.

“I’m gonna put you into the same company that did your trial, a clinic they have for people like you, who struggle. They get how it is because they did it to you; No ifs or buts.

------A/N

I hope y'all enjoyed, I loved Thunderbolts* and omg Bob is the best.

Love Marvel and this is the best thing they've brought out since TWS or maybe Infinity War.

Didn't know who to stare at more, Bucky or Bob, Or Yelena

I've put quite a lot of my experiences in this story so take it as you will but ya boi has been through some shit.

P.s there's a part 2 and 3 and I'll link them after

sending lots of love out, remember to be kind and know that something is always going on for someone - Love Bob

[megafaunatic]

Hello! I’ve always really respected your taste, so I was wondering if you had any book or fic recommendations? Any genre/trope/fandom is cool, as long as you’re enjoying it!

OOHOHHGHGHGHH YES

wow first of all thank u for saying u respect my taste. what a kind thing to say about someone 😌💛

second of all LETS SEE (CRACKS OPEN MY RECENTLY READ LIST*)

THIS IS A LONG POST. SORRY

BOOK RECS

obviously there's something wrong with me and i've been reading nonstop discworld books at the exclusion of almost all else for almost a calendar year now. in my defense it was 2024 and then as if that weren't enough it became 2025. so if you haven't read any discworld yet and you want to know what the hell i'm talking about, you should give it a shot! i wrote a whole big long post about where you should start based on thematic interests etc but recently i've revised my position to a much simpler one which is adults should start with THE TRUTH and go from there

have you read WHEN THE ANGELS LEFT THE OLD COUNTRY by sacha lamb? you should read when the angels left the old country by sacha lamb. every time i am forced to read something that sucks and is bad, i am compelled to perform a palate cleanser by reading something that rocks and is good instead, which is wtaltoc by sacha lamb. wtaltoc was written by someone who was like What if good omens were jewish, and transgender, and gay, and concerned with labor struggles in early 20th century new york

the book that i read in the last couple years that i've spent the most time thinking about in non-fandom-y ways is THE FOX WIFE by yangsze choo! REALLY interesting juicy characters and super fun setting (mostly china + japan in ~1910, very end of the qing dynasty / mid meiji era - so things are changing very rapidly in both countries in many ways). extremely compelling depiction of fox spirits! the author reads the audiobook herself which i found really pleasing and listenable

another total banger audiobook experience was RED RABBIT by alex grecian, read by john pirhalla - road trip horror in the old west (but like, relatively light horror). GREAT ensemble cast with extremely distinct voices (esp as read by pirhalla who does great accents), interesting and nuanced treatment of "magic is real" / "some of you mfers are just racist and misogynist"

nghi vo's SINGING HILLS CYCLE is obviously absolutely nothing but banger after banger. i don't always love vo's other longer works for some reason but every single singing hills novella turns me inside out. so good. if anyone out there has been struggling with reading original work after fanfic braining themselves too hard (been there!!!!!!!), these are great ~training wheels in that they're VERY short, you can read them in any order or just pick one as a standalone, and they're a really pleasing mix of like. nuanced and textured and rereadable, while also being quite straightforward and obvious in what they're saying and what's happening

LOTE by shola von reinhold and Y/N by esther yi are both NOT very straightforward or obvious in what they're saying and what's happening. they both have something to say about obsession, academia, and fandom (interpreted loosely in lote's case). they are both pretty weird. i enjoyed both immensely! in LOTE, a compulsive scammer / person who ghosts her own life devotes herself to unearthing a black woman artist from the 20s who's been systematically excluded from the canon. things get weird. in Y/N, a grad student discovers kpop fandom and self-insert fanfiction, and then gets the opportunity to meet Her Boys in real life. things get weird.

zoë: damn how long have you been sitting there writing that answer? i would have been like "just read tiger tiger" and been done. me: FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! read tiger tiger by petra nordlund (which continues to update on discord)

zoë upon reading all my book recs: no nonfiction? me: FUCK!!!!!!!!!!! just read THE OLD WAYS by robert macfarlane my best friend and comrade for life. and also THE HARE WITH AMBER EYES by edmund de waal

*- none of these are actually that recently read bc of aforementioned discworld-related ailment

i do actually also have a public storygraph account. not sure what "following" someone on storygraph entails but if you're ever curious what i've recently read (i don't do "currently reading" bc i'm a flake. i LOVE to dnf books. life is not long enough!!!!!) you can always peek in there!

FIC RECS

REALLYYYYYY enjoyed zakalwe's most recent vetvimes (discworld) oneshot it made me feel like this

it really like. Evoked Fanfic Emotions In Me you know what i mean. the kickyfeet embarrassed delight of truly fun, funny fluff. so good and SO hard to get right

2. likewise ao3 user Vee_hee_hee's fics "a game of kings" and "the damn shrimp conference" are REALLY funny and have great characterization, but also tremendous grasp of the sense of humor of the universe of discworld in general. "a game of kings" has an INSANELY good visual element that makes me laugh out loud every time, and "the damn shrimp conference" has an explanation of Vetinari's Thing About Mimes that's so ingenious and logical that i have wholly absorbed it as a piece of dw worldbuilding

3. i'm not a batman guy but MULTIPLE of my beautiful beloved friends are batman guys. this means i get the benefits of batman (my friends' fics; fun characters and goofs) without having to actually read any batman comics. you should read BUY BACK THE SECRETS by ao3 user SUNDISCUS!!!!!!! AND while you're at it you should read SEND TO ALL by ao3 KEROSCEENE <- fic that makes me laugh out loud which i'm sure is even funnier if you know the guys

4. traces left by qi pieces by yiqie had me screaming in aiwen's dms for like 3 days straight as i read it. (SNIFFLIMGN) SHE WAS SO CRAZY FOR THAT

5. every day i make a patient beautiful concerted effort to come to terms with the idea that information gathering by tacroy probably will not get finished for a long time if ever (brief perusal of tacroy's public tumblr reveals that since the 2nd of 3 promised chapters was released, they + their wife have had a FRESH BABY) (I HAVE ABANDONED FICS FOR LESS REASON THAN THAT) and even though obviously this lost 3rd chapter weighs upon my soul............ the first 2 chapters................ lift my soul even higher.................... for a net gain in soul elevation i would say

6. tiger tiger by ao3 user acernor "acernor" acernor (no known relation to petra nordlund or the webcomic tiger tiger by petra nordlund). included in thsi list partially because it's funny to have two tiger tigers but also because it genuinely slaps ass and acernor's depiction of a tiger is really grounded and lovely

7. from halfway along by lelek. sci fi space opera au of all time to ME

ok ok ok i'm stopping there because it's 10:20pm and i need to take a shower (<- grandpa who needs to go to bed by 11pm or consequences happen to me) BUT let it be said that my ao3 bookmarks are also all public, if not particularly useful in terms of content (lots of "weeping" "jesus christ" "rending my flesh" etc, not much in the way of summary)

UM

I HOPE... YOU ENJOY LITERALLY ANY OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOL!!!!!!!!! if you (OR ANYONE: you reading this post right now) ever read something on my rec and enjoy it OBVIOUSLY PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!!!!!!!!! it does actually contribute to my overall life force which in 2025 is something we all need

[tavolgisvist]

Cage / Paul and John in 1978

(after this)

Paul and the Eastmans had more business to discuss during that June visit [16-19 June 1978], namely, the still unresolved matter of dividing up the millions of dollars in record royalties that had accumulated in Apple’s coffers since March 1971. Dissolution papers, signed by the four Beatles in December 1974, severed their business ties, but the Beatles recording royalties continued to flow into Apple, with each Beatle receiving 5 percent, while 80 percent went into Apple’s bank account. According to Paul, the main sticking point in reaching a financial settlement was John’s insistence that the others indemnify him against both US and UK tax claims. Until now, the Eastmans had resisted any such agreement, but keen to break the deadlock, Paul sought their blessing to accept Lennon’s terms; after all, what good was a divorce without a settlement?

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

I spoke to the Eastmans. I said, “If we all think he’s not going to have a tax consequence, let’s give [the indemnity] to him.”’Cause, you know, if all sides are that smart, let’s all offer it. Break the deadlock. I went to New York, feeling like the bringer of good news. I rang him up. “Hello, John, how are you? Hello, how’s the kids? Oh, great. What’s all this about publishing? Yeah, great”—laugh laugh laugh—“What about Apple?” Tense. You know, that was the unfortunate thing in the last ten years. The moment you mention the word Apple, all of us go, eeeeep! Dread and horror and shock goes through all our systems. I said, “Look, as I understand it, you need this indemnity.” John said, “Fucking indemnity. Fucking this, fucking that. You don’t need to give me fucking indemnity, you fucking—” I think we ended up just sort of swearing at each other. I said, “Fuck you, ya big cunt,” ’cause I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t be sweet and reasonable anymore. I was shaking for an hour after that. Of course, the funniest thing was, I then meant to ring John Eastman and say to him, “No, no, it’s not gonna work, this whole thing. I tried to do the indemnity, it’s not gonna work.” Of course, I got the phone numbers wrong. I rang John Lennon back instead. [When the phone was answered, I said,] “Hello, John? Yeah, listen, I just—oh—yeah well…” But it was Yoko this time, and then I said, “Look, I didn’t mean for it to get like that—but, shit, you know, it seems to have got…” The funny thing was, they knew I was trying to ring John Eastman immediately after, so that would have reinforced their little feelings about me double-dealing. I’ve hardly talked to him since.

(Paul McCartney, 1980, in All You Need Is Love by Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, 2024)

Paul’s rage turned to embarrassment. Desperate to set the record straight and not leave New York under a storm cloud, Paul took a taxi ride to the Dakota building. The Lennons’ interior gardener, Mike Meideros, was watering plants when Paul pulled up outside. “It was maybe like five o’clock in the evening,” Meideros recalled, “and the concierge called up. I don’t know the exact conversation because I didn’t hear it, I just heard Yoko saying, ‘No, he can’t come up now.’ And I thought that was pretty cold.”

(Robert Rodriguez, Audio interview with Mike “Tree” Meideros for Something About the Beatles podcast, first broadcast March 10, 2024 - in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

The next song Paul brought in was a peculiar but musically fascinating medley. The first part, which he had demoed during the summer [June-July 1978], was a lively track built over an energetically bouncing bass line, alternatively called ‘Emotional Moments’ (after the opening lines, “Emotional moments / You left in a rage”) and ‘Cage’ (after the refrain, which immediately follows, “And if you could love me now / I wouldn’t be in a cage”). In the demos, the bass figure, shadowed by a synthesizer, continued in various permutations through the full track, and included a brisk, ear-catching chordal interlude dominated by the synthesizer. Now Paul added a second verse, which more or less explained the “cage” reference: “Provisional license* / I’m under arrest / But if you could get me out / I’d like to take another test.” The chordal interlude was moved to the end of the song, where it precedes a final verse. In the medley, Paul has interposed an entirely different song between the opening and closing verses of ‘Emotional Moments.’ Called ‘He Didn’t Mean It,’ this second song is slower and more melodic. In its lyrics, Paul revives a trick the Beatles had used in ‘She Loves You’…

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Emotional moments, you left in a rage But if you could love me now, I wouldn't be in a cage Provisional license, I'm under arrest But if you could get me out, I'd like to take another test I've been sent to tell you That the man you were with last night Is feeling sorry, sorry But he told me to tell you That he hardly ever lies But he lied to you last night He didn't mean it, no Said he didn't mean it, no I've been sent to tell you That the man you were with last night Is feeling lonely only for you He told me to tell you That he hardly ever cries But he cried for you last night, ooh He didn't mean it, no Said he didn't mean it, no

(Cage/Emotional moment)

[kate-inthedarkness]

The Dreaded Day - Josh Jenkinson

Summary: You’ve always hated your birthday for a reason you’re not even sure of yourself, but this year, Josh is making sure to change your mind…

Warnings: None!!!

A/N: Haven’t written anything for Josh in a hot minute and I love him so why not do something cute!!! Xxx

You always hated your birthday.

Maybe it was the pressure to feel happy, or the way everyone’s voices got just a little too loud trying to make it “special”. Maybe it was the attention. The texts. The memories that clung to the day like static. Whatever reason, your birthday had always been just another date you’d rather sleep through.

But this year, you weren’t alone in New York.

You’d moved to New York with Martha, Robert’s girlfriend, last year. The two of you shared a cozy apartment in Manhattan, only a few blocks away from Grace, Elijah’s girlfriend.

The band was on a break between legs of the tour, and the four boys had decided to camp out in the city for a while. And with Josh, your Josh, now staying in your apartment for a while, everything had changed.

Your life felt lighter, brighter, and everything in between. You were so caught up with work that you didn’t even get to see him once on the EU leg of the tour. So finally having him here, with you and only you, felt like a gift in itself.

But still, you didn’t mention your birthday to him. Or anyone. Not even once by accident in passing.

But Josh? He remembered. Of course he did.

You wake up the morning of your birthday to your usual routine: tea, quiet kitchen, soft lighting. Martha and Rob are still asleep—or at least you think they are. You check your phone out of habit, expecting the usual silence or obligatory “HBD” texts.

But there’s one message waiting for you. Grace — Elijah’s girlfriend and one of your closest friends.

Happy Birthday my love! Don’t worry, no party ambush this year. Josh banned us. But if you changed your mind…the girls and I have wine and cake in the fridge after dinner tomorrow night. I love you so much, even if you hate today xoxo

You smile—really smile—for the first time on a birthday morning in…maybe a decade. You type back:

Thanks for not making it a whole thing. Josh is already doing something. I don’t know what yet. But thank you for letting it be quiet. I love you too Gracie xxx

Grace responds instantly:

He’s got you. Just let yourself enjoy it this once, yeah? You deserve the best birthday. See you tomorrow angel!!!

The screen dims in your hand. And you feel a sense of peace wash over you as you take a sip from your tea. But the second you walk into the living room, you pause.

A single vinyl spinning on the record player—an old soul album you’d once told Josh reminded you of Sundays with your grandmother. The smell of cinnamon rolls wafts in from the tiny kitchen.

There’s no one in sight.

Until he appears.

Josh, still in sweats and a worn Joy Division t-shirt, holding a mug in one hand and a nervous smile in the other.

“Morning, birthday girl,” he says softly.

You blink. “You weren’t supposed to remember.”

He shrugs, leaning in to kiss your lips. “I always remember. And you weren’t supposed to go another year hating it.”

You sit on the couch, overwhelmed by how the morning already feels. No balloons. No people jumping out from behind doors. Just…music, cinnamon rolls, and him.

Josh joins you on the couch, legs stretched long, your head resting on his shoulder. The mug in your hand warms you, but not as much as the look in his eyes.

“I didn’t plan a party,” he says. “Didn’t tell the others to come join us. No loud dinners or anything like that.”

You glance up, surprised. “Why not?”

He smiles. “Because I wanted to give you a day that felt like it was only for you. Not what everyone else thinks a birthday should be.”

Your throat tightens. No one had ever tried to understand that before. But Josh had.

“Where’s Rob and Martha?” You ask, voice cracking with emotion.

“I kicked them out. Told them to go for an extra long walk to the bagel place he loves to keep him happy.” He shrugs with a cheeky grin on his face, and you can’t help but laugh.

——————————————

Later, the two of you walk the streets of the West Village, ducking into bookshops and tiny cafes. He buys you a secondhand poetry collection with a scribbled note inside:

“You make everything better. Happy Birthday, gorgeous girl. —JJ”

And that night, under a string of fairy lights on the fire escape, he gives you a small, square gift box. Inside: a silver chain with a tiny charm—a record, your favourite kind of music, with your birthdate engraved on the back.

You look at him, glassy-eyed.

“Maybe next year,” he whispers, “you won’t hate this day so much.”

You nod, fingers wrapping around his. “Maybe I’ll even look forward to it.”

And with Josh’s lips brushing yours, you realise: you’re finally starting to love your birthday.

[dvchvnde]

NEW YORK CITY, 1976—

A pack of Marlboro's are thrown carelessly onto her lap with a shallow grunt, a mocking help yourself, sweetheart tumbling out after the dull thud.

It reeks of smoke, nicotine, in the van already. A clogging, choking stench settling like oil against the backdrop of cheap cologne and stale, unwashed man.

Sickening, really.

But she thanks them with a small, stiff nod, and peels back the flap with trembling, numb fingers. They haven't stopped shaking since that night—

She should have told him that she isn't a smoker.

Her mother is. Father—whoever he might be—is probably one, too. A familial affliction. Maybe that's why she stays away from it. Never bothered to even try. Addiction. Vices. Another dead-eyed girl wandering around town, nicotine staining her nails. I'll be better tomorrow, baby. Tomorrow I'll quit. We'll leave this place forever, baby, I promise. Just you and me. You and me.

Swallowing down the unease that brims at the thought of them, an uncomfortable itch in the back of her head she can't get rid of (a persistent sickness), she thumbs one out. Thin and long. Lighter than she thought it would be. A feather in her hand. Anchoring. Dangerous.

She should tell him no. No thank you. That she doesn't smoke. That the thought of being like her mother in a real, tangible way makes her want to peel her skin off until it lays in a heap at her feet. Something she can kick under the bed. Forgotten. Gone.

But she doesn't. Can't. Just leans in obediently when the man closest to her—the one who smells like sweat and leather, whiskey—moves, offering her a light with a shallow quirk of his thick, full brow.

He's handsome enough, she thinks as she peers up at him. Mapping the rugged symmetry of his face, his motions, as he moves around the tight confines of the idling van, chasing the shivering tip of her cigarette with an ease that makes her wonder just how often it is that he lights cigarettes for girls who can't stop shaking. Trembling. Vibrating out of their skin from nerves, fear, the crash of adrenaline.

Must be routine, she notes as he pursues her with ease. Catching up on a sharp exhale. The soft snick of his lighter a victorious cheer amongst the low buzz of a conversation in the background when he pins her down. Nonchalant. Almost lazy. Effortless.

The win barely changing the impassive expression on his face.

A handsome face, she adds as the cigarette dips down, heavier now that it's burning. Attractive in that soft, rugged way. Unassuming, mostly. A face that could blend in with the crowd. Masculine, though—in a way that makes her think of Robert Redford. Parental. A full jaw beneath a thick, umber beard. Soft peach poking out between the tangles fur along his upper lip. Hawkish nose. A leonine list to his flat, slate coloured eyes.

He cups his big, tanned hands around the flame, watching her impassively as she inhales deep—too deep—and calmly reaches for a bottle of water on the bench beside him when it feels like her lungs are burning. Her throat full of flames. Shivering, heaving. Hacking through soot-stained lungs as he offers the bottle to her without a word. Just cold plastic against her arm. Silent and steady. Cool as she hunches over and chokes, coughing into space between her knees, gasping for air that can't get through the smoke.

"Easy now, sweetheart," he drawls, an airiness to his low, brassy tenor that prickles along her nape. Makes her huff against the denim covering her shaking knees. Bell bottoms from a thrift store. The faded tag said LEVI'S 646. "Just breathe, alright? Ain't supposed to inhale—"

Ain't supposed to witness a murder, either, she wants to snap, churlish and mean, hiding her embarrassment through a dense fog of blame; shifting the conversation from her follie to the elephant huffing in the corner. And she almost does, but the bile clawing up her throat renders her mute. Immobile. Docile as he watches her through lidded, heavy eyes. Scrutinizing. Calculative.

The look in sun marled umbre reminds her, vividly (viciously) of that night. The one she tried to use a weapon. Double-edged sword. She has no one to blame but herself when her palms split, blood gushing out like the phantom in the back of her head. A man strung up on a hook. Arms overhead. His back to her, but his insides pooling on the floor in an ugly red and purple heap. The screams. The scent of blood and—

Meat.

Sharp, dark eyes on her. Face hidden beneath a black surgical mask. Broad shoulders unfurling into an impressive, terrifying height. Well—a voice like chiselled stone; metal on granite. Hellish. Looks like we got ourselves a lil' stray.

She's plucked from this nightmare when the man takes the burning cigarette from between her numb fingers, drawing it up to his mouth, and sinks his teeth into the filter as he gazes down at her. Assessing. Cold. Like he knows what she was thinking of. Which labyrinthine nightmare she was lost inside.

And he nods to himself, then; a shallow dip. Something she can't see, can't understand, confirmed.

"Saw the butcher," he mumbles around it, smoke pouring from the tip when he breathes. Speaking the words she tries to run from and weaponise out loud as she unscrews the cap on the bottle she'd forgotten about, hands shaking so hard, she can feel the water spill over her knuckles. "And we got some questions about that."

His arms come up, folding over his broad chest. The gold badge glints when it's catches the waning sun pouring through the windshield. F.B.I.

She swallows again, tastes soot and blood. Feels hands around her neck, sticky and blood-warmed; squeezing tight. Not a word, kitten, or I'll hang you up next. "I don't—I didn't see anything—"

He shifts in his seat, scoffing. That dark, calculative gleam is back, and she knows there's no more running. No hiding under the covers and convincing herself it was all just a bad dream. The pendulum swings. A choice must be made:

the hook or the cage.

"Come on, now. We both know that isn't true."