#she will be loved and find herself to be loved

[scarletmika]

Destiny or Not : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

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

Summary: As The Darkhold foretold Wanda Maximoff's destiny, The Book of Vishanti foretold your own. You just didn't know how much of that destiny was intertwined with Bob Reynolds, until the day you met him in the vault.

Warnings: fluff, suggestive but NOT explicit, soulmate-ish trope, TOTAL idiots in love, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, feminine description of reader, it's Bob (implied mental illness there)

Word Count: 3,015 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here A/N: A request involving a "soulmate" type connection that I can easily turn into a witch reader? I'm sold. Shout-out to my friend Junie for the extra revisions on this one!

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

It had started randomly one night. Months after Tony Stark had sacrificed himself to save the world, after you and billions of others had been brought back from the blip. After your mentor had accidentally enslaved an entire town out of grief, after she’d let the power of the Darkhold consume her. When you looked Wanda Maximoff in the eyes as she held The Book of Vishanti in her hands and destroyed it. After you’d tried desperately to save her from herself that day on Mount Wundagore and failed.

Back in your apartment that night, you’d cried for the loss of your mentor, until there was a flicker of red magic across the room. Sat at your desk was The Book of Vishanti, lying there in tact, with a simple note scrawled in Wanda’s handwriting. 

I’m sorry for everything. Your destiny lies here, but sometimes knowing is worse than not. It’s in your hands, now.

You’d elected to never look, to never see your destiny, but almost every night from the moment you touched that book on, you dreamed of him. The man with soft brown hair, blue eyes that seemed to peer into your soul, and powers unlike anything you’d ever seen.

The first night you’d awoken in your dream, you were lying in bed beside the man. He peered at you, reaching out with his hand hesitantly to cup your cheek, as if afraid that you would run away.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know?” you’d teased him, your grin only growing at the faint blush that quickly spread across his cheeks.

“You…you make me nervous,” he’d muttered back to you in embarrassment. Your hand had found its place resting against his bare chest, against the skin that you’d come to learn ran unusually hot, and you felt his heart rate quicken.

“Good, because you make me nervous too,”

You’d kissed in that dream, that dream that felt all too real at times. It felt like deja vu as you kissed the man before you, but it couldn’t be. You’d never met him before, and you’d certainly never been kissed before. Being thrust into work with the Avengers from a young age, being taken under the wing of a witch that barely understood what she was herself, it hadn’t lent itself to many romantic moments over time.

When the kiss had ended, your dream self had flipped over, the man’s unusually warm body pressing to your back as the pair of you drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms. But the sight before you, the room you could see, you knew it: it was the former Avengers tower in New York, you knew it for sure.

The dreams continued for almost two years. Sometimes you dreamed of him every night of the week, sometimes just once or twice, but no two dreams were ever the same. 

Some of them were sweet, just like the first one. You were in the former Avengers tower, which you knew for certain. But there were always people around you, like Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers' old best friend. Or a girl you’d only ever heard in stories, Yelena Belova, the younger sister of the Black Widow. There were movie nights shared between you all, there were private picnics on the terrace of the tower with just you and your mystery man with the shaggy brown hair, anything you could imagine.

Then, there were the ones ingrained in fighting. Battles waged, so many that you couldn’t keep track. In some, you didn’t seem to be any older than you currently were, while in others, you seemed to be much, much older than now. In every single one, you fought at the man’s side, the Witch and who they called the Sentry, an unstoppable duo that was feared and respected across the world and the galaxy.

The steamy ones were the ones that had you waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, desperate to take a cold shower and relieve yourself of the feelings you hadn’t ever felt before. There weren’t many of you and the man when you were young, but the times there were, it was like watching two inexperienced idiots fumble around the room together. He’d lifted you up onto the counter of the tower’s kitchen once, underestimating his strength and slamming your head off the cupboard behind you. You’d laughed it off as he apologized profusely, both of you flushing red as Bucky walked into the kitchen with a simple shake of his head. There was another one that stuck vividly in your mind as you’d randomly pulled him into your bedroom one day, trying so desperately to undress yourself that you’d managed to fall flat on your face on the floor.

The steamier dreams where you’re older…those were ones you tried not to think about. Those brought heat to your cheeks immediately.

The problem was, in all of these dreams, you’d never learned his name. It was like anytime someone tried to say his name, it ended up censored, so you would never know. You had nothing to go on to learn if this man was even real.

It wasn’t until, through contacts that you’d gained from your connection with the former Avengers team, that you’d gotten your lead. There were rumblings of Valentina Allegra De Fontaine working on her version of a serum that could create the ultimate superhero: The Sentry Project.

You knew you couldn’t be mistaken; that was him. The fluffy brown hair you’d spent your downtime playing with and running your fingers through, the arms you’d spent countless dreams entwined in, and those soft brown puppy-dog eyes you couldn’t forget. It was the man from your dreams. 

Under the guise of “working for Valentina,” you’d been trying your hardest to find out more about the Sentry project, but it was a secret that Valentina kept closely under wraps. You’d never gotten the training from Wanda and the Avengers that you truly needed, though, and you wore your heart on your sleeve. It didn’t take long for Valentina to learn that you were trying to learn more about her secret project, which is why she knew she had to send you into the Vault that day.

There were three guns pointed at you, and then back at each other, before back at you. You’d settled for just your hands and your magic, forgoing any weapons, as wisps of magic danced around your fingers.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt any of you,” you’d nervously laughed, looking between the three in front of you. As your fighting ceased, it slowly dawned on you that standing before you was Yelena Belova, along with two people who had been in the background of so many of your dreams over the years. It was Yelena that cocked a gun in your direction.

“We’re all here to kill each other, so that doesn’t make much sense.”

“I-I don’t want to kill anyone!” you tried to reason with her, stuttering over your words for a moment as you waved your hands around, magic dancing through the air with them. “Look, it’s so complicated, but I don’t even want to be here! I-I just want to find out about Project Sentry-”

The man with the shield turned his gun on you next with a laugh.

“Project Sentry, huh? Sounds like some classified information someone would be sneaking in here to steal,”

You’d fumbled for a minute, unsure how to go forward now that there were multiple guns trained on you, and your magic flickered for a second as you faltered. You’d all spun on your heels toward the door, though, as the sound of another person coughing sounded across the room.

The man had barely crawled across the floor, hadn’t even looked up yet, but you could feel him. Like a tug on your soul, you could almost feel everything about him. And the second he looked up, his eyes locking with yours as his fidgeting with his clothing ceased, your breath caught in your throat.

“W-whoa…” he’d stuttered out, eyes wide as he pointed a finger in your direction, the other three mercenaries in the room simply watching in silence and confusion. “It’s…it’s you! From my dreams!”

Your hands dropped almost instantly as you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“Oh my god…you’re real,”

The name you’d wondered about for two years now was so simple, yet so him: Bob. You wished your first time meeting him had gone smoothly, that the next few days would have been simple, but they were anything but. There were moments scattered throughout that you’d dreamt of before, and he had too. When you’d protected him in the hallway trying to escape from the vault and Valentina’s team, when you’d refused to fight him at the top of the former Avengers Tower, or when you’d chased him through the Void, promising to be by his side and to help save him from himself.

Now, months had passed, and for the second time in your life, you were an Avenger again, but this time with a new team and no mentor to show you the ropes. Your new team, your friends, were sick and tired of you, though, because all you and Bob did was dance around one another.

You’d confided in Yelena and Bucky your dreams, the pull on your soul, and the connection you knew you had to Bob buried deep inside you, while Bob had confessed the same to John and Ava (though his confession was more coerced out of him than freely given). But for the most part, you danced around one another.

It was infuriating to see the way you and Bob were attached at the hip, but neither of you was able to admit anything to one another. Accidental hand brushes almost every day, matching blushing cheeks, and your inability to talk to one another without stumbling over your words. Alexei was groaning almost constantly, watching the pair of you dance around your feelings, feelings he claimed were “written in the stars.”

You and Bob had conversations here and there regarding dreams you’d shared, about how weird it was to experience them and know that they would potentially happen. But your conversations always skirted around the steamy dreams, the intimate ones, the ones that showed the connection you held that went far past platonic. But it was gnawing at both of you, the pull that you felt to one another every second of the day, that one day it finally came to a head.

“D-do you want to uh, to go up to the roof with me?”

You’d looked up from your place at the kitchen sink, arms deep within the suds as you scrubbed away at the dirty dishes left over from team dinner the night before. Warmth flooded your cheeks immediately as you looked at Bob, who wasn’t even looking at you but was fidgeting with the two sandwiches on the plate before him that he was making.

“O-oh, uh uh-yeah, sure. Any uh, any reason why?”

The flush that spread across his skin was evident from where you were, as she shrugged.

“Our friends, they’re uh…they’re loud sometimes. And you haven’t eaten yet, so uh, I made you a sandwich,”

You bit into your bottom lip, trying to calm the nerves dancing around the pit of your stomach and alleviate the tension that was pulling on the cord connecting the two of you.

“Yeah. Why don’t- why don’t you head up and I’ll meet you up there when I finish up the dishes,”

The dishes could’ve waited, but you needed the extra ten minutes it afforded you to calm down. There was some distant memory in your mind of that moment, a sense of deja vu flooding you as you felt like you’d dreamt of that exact conversation at one point in time. You did everything you could to put on a faint air of confidence to yourself as you joined Bob on the roof of the Watchtower.

The last time you’d been on this roof was to celebrate Alexei’s birthday a few months ago. He had desperately wanted to celebrate while looking over the skyline of “the greatest city in the world,” but the high winds that were experienced at that height on top of a skyscraper were…less than ideal. He’d enjoyed his birthday gift from you, which was an enchantment surrounding the rooftop garden of the building, blocking out the wind and allowing him to enjoy the party the rest of the team set up for him.

Bob was sitting cross-legged on one of the couches left behind on the rooftop from the party, hands wringing together in his lap as he looked up to see you walk out onto the patio area. He smiled, nervousness radiating off of him, as you took a seat beside him.

“I should come up here more often,” you softly told him, wringing your own hands together before busying yourself with grabbing the plate he’d left for you with your sandwich. “The sunset over the city…it’s beautiful.”

“I come up here sometimes to think,” Bob told you, taking a bite of his sandwich while glancing over at you. “I’m uh, not a fan of heights…but it’s still pretty.”

You’d both gone silent to eat your sandwiches, but you could feel the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, the one you knew would come someday. The tug in your heart every time you looked at him, the feeling in your soul that urged you to simply move closer to him, despite the elevated heart rate coursing through you.

“Bob-”

“Do you think about them?” his voice had cut you off, the words rushed out as he looked up at you, hugging his arms around his knees as his leg began to shake. “The…the dreams?”

“All the time,” you told him quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Since we met, though, we haven’t had any new ones.”

“What do you…think of them?”

“They’re…comforting,” was the word you settled on, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked away from Bob for a moment, admiring the colors of the sunset in the sky. “At first, they uh, they were weird. I’ve never really been with anyone…romantically, at least. So being myself in situations like that…they were weird. But you-you-you became this weird constant in my life. I enjoyed going to sleep, knowing that uh, that I’d see you in my dreams. That’s why I tried so hard to find you.”

There was quiet between you both for a moment as you came to terms with your own words, as you accepted the feeling that you were pretty sure was buried in your heart before you even knew about it: you loved him, you loved him before you even knew who he was. Truthfully, your love for him was probably woven into the seams of who you were and who you were going to be before you were even born. And somewhere, deep down in the connection tied between you both and laid out across the dreams you knew were more than just dreams, you knew he loved you, too.

Before you could voice any of this to Bob, he beat you to it.

“I like you!” the outburst interrupted the silence as you turned back to him, frozen in place as Bob stumbled through his words to find the right way to explain it all. “Well, uh, I think I…I think I love you, more so than like. And maybe- maybe I always have? It’s confusing. But since I met you, I…I always want to be around you and- and I can’t imagine ever being with anyone but you…”

Mustering even the smallest bit of confidence you could, you took Bob’s hand in your own, flashing him what you hoped was a comforting smile even as nerves flooded your system.

“After Wanda, my mentor, died on Mount Wundagore, she’d left me something: The Book of Vishanti,” you explained to him. “Wanda’s destiny was written out in The Darkhold, and she told me mine was written out in The Book of Vishanti. I decided never to look, that it was better never to know, and I’d let it play out instead. But I know if I did look…you’d be there. You’d be written across every inch of my destiny. And destiny or not…I-I think I’d fall in love with you all the same.”

It took a moment for the smile matching your own to cross his face, before his palm turned to face yours, your fingers intertwining with one another. You sat on that roof, smiling at one another like fools in love, before Bob let out a breathy laugh.

“How-how do we do…this?”

“Beats me, I’ve never gotten this far,” you’d laughed with him, shifting closer as the space between you both gradually shrank until it was nothing. “Our dream selves…they seem pretty adept at it, though.”

“Maybe it, uh…maybe it just takes practice?”

You both teetered on the edge for a moment before Bob made the first move, surging forward and pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. He’d pulled back sooner than you wanted him to, matching blushes coating your cheeks.

It was your turn, the ice already broken, as you surged toward him this time, pressing your lips back to his and refusing to pull away. That tug between you both seemed to lighten finally as 

that wall was finally broken between the two of you, laughter flowing between you both as you pressed kiss after kiss to his lips. Now that you’d finally known the feeling of his lips on yours outside of your dreams, you never wanted it to end.

Locked in your world together, neither of you were privy to the knowledge that Alexei was currently bolting away from the rooftop door and down the stairs, yelling out for Yelena and the team that “his ship was finally sailing.”

[moonlightwritingf1]

All His | LN4

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finally gives in to the tension Y/N has been teasing him with all night, determined to remind her exactly who she belongs to. Their night quickly turns into something possessive, filthy, and intimate—him whispering promises of breeding her, worshipping her body, and filling her until she can’t take any more. Even after he cums, he doesn’t stop.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི word count ━━━━━━━ 3.4k

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, breast play, nipples play, mirror sex, multiple positions, rough sex, dirty talk

Based on this request.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush, white sheets of his bed, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the ache between her thighs. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his hands on his hips, his eyes burning into her with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something possessive.

“You’re not getting away with it tonight,” he said, his voice low and teasing, the corners of his mouth curling into that smirk that always made her stomach flutter.

She arched a brow, propping herself up on her elbows. “Getting away with what?” she asked, her tone innocent, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her.

“Playing this game.” He stepped closer, his fingers trailing up her calf, sending a shiver through her. “You’ve been teasing me all night, love. And now you’re lying there looking like that, expecting me to just...” He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly. “No. Not tonight.”

She laughed softly, stretching her legs out before pulling them back, her toes brushing against his stomach. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, though her breath hitched as his hand moved higher, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh. “What exactly do you plan to do about it?”

Lando leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her lips. “I’m going to make sure you remember who you belong to,” he murmured, his voice dripping with intent. “Every time you squirm, every time you moan... you’ll know it’s because of me. Because I’m the one who gets to have you like this.”

Her heart raced, her body responding to his words before he even touched her. She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off with a deep, searing kiss that left her breathless. His hands were everywhere—tangled in her hair, gripping her waist, tracing the curve of her spine—and she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but feel.

When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her chest heaving. He smirked again, that damned smirk, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “See? You’re already falling apart for me.”

She narrowed her eyes, though the effect was ruined by the way her body leaned into his. “You’re insufferable,” she said, her voice shaky.

“And yet,” Lando drawled, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, something possessive, “you’re not stopping me.” His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her shorts, his touch deliberate and unhurried. The moment his fingertips brushed against her bare skin, she gasped, her body tensing as if electrified.

Her breath hitched, her hips arching ever so slightly, betraying her need. “Lando...” His name escaped her lips in a breathy whisper, more plea than protest.

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “No underwear, huh?” he teased, his fingers dipping lower, finding her already slick with arousal. “Seems like you were planning this all along, love.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she bit her lip, her eyes locking with his as his fingers explored her, tracing her folds with a maddening slowness. “You ruin me,” she breathed, though her hips betrayed her, grinding against his hand as if begging for more.

“And yet,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, “you’re fucking soaked for me.” His fingers pressed against her entrance, teasing but not entering, drawing a desperate whine from her lips. “Tell me, Y/N,” he prompted, his thumb circling her clit with torturous precision, “how much do you want me to make you come right now?”

Her hands fisted the sheets, her body trembling under his touch. “Lando, please...” she begged, her voice breaking as he slipped a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, filling her in a way that made her toes curl.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Say it again. Say it like you mean it.”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching into his hand. “Please... don’t stop.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes dark with hunger. “That’s my girl.”

His fingers started to move inside her slowly, almost teasingly, as if he were savoring every inch of her. She could feel herself growing wetter, slick with arousal, her body arching instinctively toward him, desperate for more. His breath was hot against her ear, his voice a low, sensual rumble that sent shivers cascading down her spine. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck in a way that made her shiver. “Tell me you want me to fill you up. To make you mine in every way.”

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping the sheets tighter as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her cry out softly. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, her heart pounding in her chest.

He didn’t let up, his thumb circling her clit with a maddening rhythm that made her see stars. “Say it, love,” he urged, his voice rough with desire, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that left her breathless. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to put a baby inside you, to brand you as mine forever.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away from the heat in his gaze. Instead, she pressed her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his as she whispered, “Yes, Lando. I want you... I want you to fill me up, to make me yours in every way.”

He smirked, that smug, knowing smirk that always sent a thrill through her. “You drive me fucking insane,” he purred, his voice dripping with praise that made her cheeks flush despite the heat pooling between her thighs.

His fingers trailed away from her wetness, and she whimpered at the sudden loss, but he didn’t leave her wanting for long. His hands moved to the waistband of her shorts, yanking them down her legs in one swift motion, leaving her bare from the waist down, completely exposed to his hungry gaze.

But he wasn’t finished.

His eyes roamed over her, dark and greedy, before shifting to the thin fabric still covering her chest. He leaned over her, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her top, dragging it slowly upward until her breasts spilled free. She arched instinctively, gasping at the sudden cool air against her flushed skin as he peeled the top over her head and tossed it aside.

Now she was fully bare beneath him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, eyes roaming every inch of her with reverence and hunger. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.”

She shivered under his gaze, her body tingling with anticipation. His hand moved to his own shorts, palming the bulge that strained against the fabric. He was hard as a rock, the outline of his cock unmistakable, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. He always got like this for her—hard, desperate, completely consumed by her. And the best part? She barely had to lift a finger to have him like this.

He wasted no time, shoving his shorts and boxers down in one fluid motion, his cock springing free. Her eyes flew to him immediately, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of him—thick, aching, and dripping with need. She couldn’t help but salivate, her mouth watering at the thought of him filling her, claiming her. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire, her body already begging for him. He grinned, running a hand down his length as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You ready for me, love?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his tone. She nodded, her heart racing as he closed the distance between them, ready to make her his once again.

His lips crashed into hers again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself between her legs. She could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against her, and she whimpered into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Say you want me to put a baby in you.”

Her breath caught, her body trembling with need. “Lando...”

“Say it,” he insisted, his hands sliding up her thighs, his thumbs brushing over her hips. “I need to hear you say it.”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I... I want you to put a baby in me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, and he kissed her again, deep and possessive, before pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “Now let me take care of you.”

He entered her slowly, inch by torturous inch, and she gasped, her body stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot against her skin. “Fuck, you feel incredible,” he muttered, his hips rolling against hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of her head. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, his voice strained.

“I thought that was your job,” she teased, though her voice broke as he thrust into her, hitting that spot that made her see stars.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. “Oh, trust me, love. I’m just getting started.”

Lando’s smirk deepened as he slowed his thrusts, savoring the way her body clenched around him. His hands roamed her curves, one settling on her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. “You ever think about it, love?” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling, sending shivers down her spine. “My baby growing in you? Tits sore. Belly round. Still letting me fuck you full because you can’t help yourself?” His words were a tease, but there was an underlying possessiveness that made her heart race.

She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body trembled under his. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway through his name, her body betraying just how much his words turned her on.

“That’s it,” he growled, his thrusts growing deeper, more deliberate. “You’ll look so fucking pretty knocked up.” His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splayed over her abdomen as if he could already feel the roundness he was imagining. “Always wanted to see you carrying my baby, love. You’d be fucking radiant.”

Her breath hitched, her body arching into his as she clung to him, her mind swimming with the images he was painting so vividly. She could almost feel it—the weight of his child growing inside her, the way he’d look at her with that mix of pride and hunger, the way he’d still want her, need her, even then.

“Fuck, Lando…” she whimpered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. “You like that, yeah? The thought of me putting a baby in you?” She nodded, her cheeks flushing as her body clenched around him again, tighter this time, drawing a groan from his lips. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice thick with praise. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re stuffed full of me.”

His thrusts grew faster, harder, and she could feel the way his body was beginning to tighten, his control slipping as he drove them both closer to the edge. Her breasts bounced with each movement, and his hands slid up to cup them, squeezing and teasing as he groaned. “Fuck, look at them. Look how they bounce every time I fill you.”

She whimpered, her body arching into his touch as her nipples hardened under his fingers. “Lando…”

When she whined, he let out a growl and flipped them over with a grunt, settling her on top of him. “Ride me. I need to see ‘em up close when you’re losing it on top of me.”

He was losing control—her moans, the way her tits bounced with every thrust, the way her body clenched around him—it was all too much. With a grunt of restraint, Lando pulled out of her slowly, his cock slick and twitching.

“Get on top,” he rasped, already falling back onto the mattress, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes glued to her flushed, wrecked body. “Come ride me, love. I wanna see every fucking inch of you when you take me.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her legs trembled slightly as she straddled him, gripping his cock in one hand and lining him up. Lando groaned deep in his chest as she sank down on him inch by inch, her walls stretching around him, taking all of him inside.

“Fuck,” he growled, hands gripping her hips as she bottomed out, fully seated on him.

Her heart raced as she adjusted, her hands settling on his chest as she began to move, her hips rolling against his in a rhythm that made him moan. His hands immediately went to her breasts, squeezing and teasing as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking ride me.”

She moaned, her head falling back as she ground down on him, her body trembling with the pleasure of it. His hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. “So fucking perfect,” he muttered, his eyes locked on her as she moved.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap.

“You want me to come watching you bounce?” he growled, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her, the bed rocking beneath them. “I’m so fucking close. You want me to come just like this? Watching your perfect tits bounce while I fill you up?”

She whimpered, her body arching into his as she felt the pleasure cresting, threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes… please…”

He groaned, his hands sliding up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “I want your tits in my mouth while you ride me.”

Her breath hitched as she leaned forward, her hands bracing on his chest as she offered herself to him. His lips immediately wrapped around her nipple, sucking and teasing as he thrust up into her, his movements growing sloppier as he lost himself in her. She moaned, her hips rolling against his as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his lips leaving her breast to trail kisses up her chest, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust up into her. “Ride me until I fill you. Don’t stop ‘til I’m spilling inside you, yeah? You want that?”

She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she felt the pleasure cresting, threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes… Lando…”

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough with need as he thrust up into her, his grip on her hips tightening. “Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap. “I want you to… fuck a baby into me…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.

Lando’s thrusts grew erratic, his grip on her hips tightening as he neared the edge. Suddenly, he pulled out, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness. Before she could protest, he flipped her onto all fours, positioning her in front of the mirror beside the bed. He knelt behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he slammed back into her, forcing a moan from her lips.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. She lifted her eyes to the mirror, her cheeks flushing as she saw herself—her hair wild, her lips swollen, her body trembling under his. “Look at how you take me,” he continued, his thrusts deep and deliberate. “Like you were fucking made for it.” His hands moved to her waist, holding her steady as he drove into her harder, faster. “Gonna pump you so full, it’ll be dripping down your thighs.”

Her breath hitched as she watched herself in the mirror, her body arching into his, her eyelids fluttering as he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. He reached up, gripping her chin and forcing her to hold his gaze in the reflection. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Every inch of you. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

When he came, it was deep inside her, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her with a low groan. She felt it, the warmth of him filling her, and she whimpered, her body clenching around him as he held her close, his chest pressing against her back.

He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Still clenching around me, needy little thing… fuck, I love how your body begs for more even after I’ve filled you.” His voice was soft, almost tender, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness in his tone. She could still feel him inside her, still feel the warmth of him spilling into her, and she shuddered, her body trembling with the need for more.

He pressed his lips to her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he murmured, “Shh, I know, baby… you’re still aching. Let me take care of you. Don’t worry, I’m not done filling you up.” His words were a promise, and she whimpered, her body trembling with the need for more as he gently pulled out of her, his cum already beginning to drip down her thighs.

He shifted, kneeling behind her again as he watched his release trickle out of her. “Look at that—leaking already. Gotta fuck it back in, don’t I?” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Can’t waste a drop of me.”

He pressed two fingers against her entrance, pushing them inside her slowly, dragging his cum back into her as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. “You’re so wet, so fucking ruined… and still, you want more,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You want to come with my mess inside you, don’t you?”

She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he worked his fingers inside her, his thumb brushing her clit with every thrust. “Please… Lando…” she whimpered, her body trembling with the need for release.

“Good girls don’t waste what they’re given,” he purred, his voice dark and commanding. “So go on, come for me—make a mess with my cum on my fingers.”

His fingers moved faster, deeper, and she could feel the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap. Her body arched into his touch, her breath hitching as her orgasm crashed over her, waves of pleasure coursing through her as she came on his fingers. He didn’t stop, his fingers continuing to move inside her, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling, her body slick with sweat.

She collapsed onto the bed, her body spent, her heart racing as he pulled his fingers out of her, his cum slick on his skin. He leaned down, pressing his chest against her back as he nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

She whimpered, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and he chuckled darkly, his hand moving to her stomach as he murmured, “Just wait until it’s my baby you’re carrying. You’ll be even more fucking perfect then.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.

He smirked, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. “Mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with need. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

[moonstruckme]

also new idea,

jilly x reader-

reader stayed up all night reading as is clingy and sleepy the next day. but tries to act like they weren’t awake all night and play it off!

Thanks for the request lovely!

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 983 words

Your kitchen smells like warmth and Sundays. James’ trapezius is the perfect pillow for your cheek, shifting every now and again as he pushes bacon around in a pan with your arms slung around his waist. He’s telling you about some thing which happened to Sirius a dozen years ago and is undoubtedly hilarious, but his words hum together with the sizzling of your breakfast into a comforting din. 

You hardly register the sound of your front door opening until Lily is slipping past you to set a pint of orange juice in the fridge. 

“They were nearly out,” she says. 

“Ooh.” James is far too lively for half nine in the morning. “Did you nab the last one?” 

“I did.” 

“There’s our girl.” He transfers his spatula to the opposite hand to reach for a high-five. Lily rolls her eyes but taps his palm gently. James keeps beaming nonetheless. 

Your girlfriend unclips her hair from where it’s wound up behind her head, shaking it out at the roots. You and James stare. 

“I love it when she does that,” he murmurs. 

You hum, transfixed. 

Lily’s eyes roll again—at this rate, she’ll have worn them out before lunchtime—but her cheeks color faintly. “Stop it,” she says. 

“Likely,” James scoffs. “Kiss?”

You spot the flicker of defiance in her eyes, the half-second wherein she considers holding out just to make a point, but ultimately Lily leans forward, kissing him chastely on the lips. She moves to you next. 

“You’re quiet,” she observes softly as your lips part, her thumb stroking down your cheek. You lean into the touch. 

“It’s early,” you say. 

You’re considered by soft, discerning eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”

You do your best to curve your lips into a reassuring smile. “Mhm. Just lazy.” 

“I thought you were falling asleep on me a minute ago,” says James. He gives your hands, intertwined across his abdomen, a loving squeeze. “Why don’t you go rest on the couch, angel? This’ll be ready in just a minute.” 

You sigh as you let him go. “So eager to be rid of me.” 

“I just know she wants to watch her show,” he teases. Lily presses a kiss into his cheek before leading you over in front of the telly. 

Your girlfriend is a current events junkie. Most mornings you come into the sitting room to find her already watching the news, tsking quietly to herself while she munches on a piece of toast. She’ll stay right there until she has to go to work, and on the way she’ll listen to a podcast to catch any highlights she might have missed on the local channel. Sundays, it’s back-to-back-to-back news programs for most of the morning. Lily loves it, and you and James—well, you just love indulging Lily in anything she likes, really. 

“Sure you’re alright?” she asks as you cuddle up against her side, pulling a throw from over the top of the couch. 

Really, sometimes you think your girlfriend is too clever for her own good. Or yours, apparently. 

You twine your fingers with hers, saying, “Mhm,” just as the morning’s breaking story comes on, and then she’s distracted. 

James comes in with breakfast a short while later. He lifts your legs to settle in underneath them, and you hum gratefully as you bite into your bacon. With Lily’s hand clasped with yours and his forearm laying across your calves, you’re the picture of contentment. James makes idle comments about which actors the newscasters look like, and Lily corrects him when he gets all the Chrises mixed up. 

“Surprised you haven’t gone and got that book you’re obsessed with yet,” James teases you as two government types debate a financial issue you don’t think you could grasp on your best day. You’re hardly conscious as you stare at the screen. “You really must be tired.” 

“I’m done with that one,” you mumble. 

“What?” He sounds surprised. “I thought you really liked it.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I did.” You realize what you’ve just admitted. “I meant that I finished it.” 

James’ eyebrows make an appearance over the rims of his glasses. “I forget how quick you are sometimes. Weren’t you only, like, midway through after dinner last night?” 

“Yeah…” 

You can practically feel Lily’s attention shifting to you. “Sweetheart,” she says in a tone both dreading and knowing, “how late did you stay up reading last night?” 

“It was,” you hedge, “a really good book.” 

“Mhm,” she hums, prompting. “And when did you go to sleep?”

Your voice quiets. “I didn’t.” 

Lily seems vindicated, but James’ mouth pops open in utter astonishment. 

“The whole night?” he asks. “You read until morning?” 

“I finished it just a little while before you woke up,” you admit. 

“I thought your eyes looked red.” Lily wraps an arm around your shoulders, laying a heavy kiss on your head. You all but melt into her side. “You should have said, love. It’s the weekend; there’s no reason we can’t have a nap.” 

James rubs underneath his glasses. “What am I going to do with the two of you?” 

“Me?” Lily asks defensively. 

“Oh,” your boyfriend levels her with a look, “don’t think I’ve forgotten that I had to come pick you up from work at nearly two in the morning last month after you wouldn’t come home.” 

“That was completely different!” 

“Never in my life have I had the desire to stay up for an entire night. And to read! Lovie, if you’d been out at least I could understand…” 

“No you wouldn’t,” you say. “You’d still want to come get me.”

“True,” James concedes. “Maybe it is better that I’ve chosen such nerds.” 

“It feels like he’s trying to insult us,” you murmur to Lily. 

She shrugs. “I take it as a compliment.” 

James grins, leaning over to kiss her and then you in turn. “I know you do, lovely.”

[bueckersworld]

come back to me

“sometimes love means holding someone so gently that they remember how to hold themselves again.”

SYNOPSIS: after a tough day navigating the pressures of her rookie wnba season, paige comes home emotionally drained. you offer quiet support—cooking dinner, holding her close, and reminding her that she doesn’t have to carry everything alone. as the night deepens, you show her tenderness and love in both words and touch, helping her release the weight she’s been holding. in your arms, she finds peace, comfort, and a moment of stillness she desperately needed.

WARNINGS: emotional distress, mentions of self doubt and performance anxiety, mild language, smut — mdni, bottom!paige, sub!paige, bottom!paige, pussy eating (p!receiving), scissoring (p&r!receiving)

WORD COUNT: 2.9k. info. masterlist. taglist.

it starts with the door clicking shut behind her.

not slamming. not angry. just heavy. tired. like even the sound of it was weighed down by the day she just had.

you don’t say anything right away. you stay in the kitchen, quietly stirring the pasta on the stove while you listen to her go through the motions—keys dropped on the table, shoes kicked off with a frustrated grunt, gym bag hitting the floor like it wronged her somehow.

her sigh travels all the way down the hallway.

and your heart breaks a little.

it’s been like this a lot lately. her first season with the wings isn’t going the way she hoped. the minutes are short, the critics are loud, and the pressure she puts on herself? it’s louder than anything else.

you hear it in her silence more than her words.

“hey, baby,” you call gently. “dinner’s almost ready.”

she mumbles something that might’ve been “thanks,” but it’s muffled by the sweatshirt she’s pulling over her head. when she walks into the kitchen, her eyes are already on the floor. shoulders tense. jaw tight. her curls are pulled back in a messy, damp bun, and there’s a visible crease between her brows that hasn’t left in weeks.

you step toward her and wrap your arms around her waist without hesitation. she sinks into you without a word.

you hold her there.

“long day?” you murmur against her temple.

she doesn’t answer right away. just breathes you in. slow. heavy. like she’s trying not to cry.

“i feel like i’m drowning,” she finally whispers.

you squeeze her tighter. “then let me be your lifeline.”

—

you both sit on the couch later, plates mostly clean, tv playing some show neither of you are really watching. paige has her head on your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed every few minutes, but you can tell her mind’s still racing.

“i’m trying so hard,” she whispers suddenly. “i’m doing everything they ask. i’m staying late. i’m watching film. i’m working on my shot. but nothing’s enough.”

you don’t say anything right away. just stroke your fingers gently through her hair, grounding her.

“you don’t have to earn rest, paige,” you say softly. “you’re allowed to be tired. you’re allowed to let go.”

“i can’t,” she says. “if i let go, i fall behind. and if i fall behind…”

her voice cracks.

“then i’ll be a disappointment.”

your chest aches.

you turn her gently until she’s facing you, her knees pulled onto the couch, her eyes wide and vulnerable in the low light. you cup her face in both hands.

“you are never a disappointment,” you say, slow and certain. “not to me. not to anyone who truly matters.”

her eyes drop. “i don’t feel like myself.”

“then let me help you find your way back.”

you lean forward and kiss her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. her breath hitches, and you feel it—the way her walls start to fall.

“let me take care of you tonight,” you whisper. “let me show you how loved you are.”

she doesn’t answer. just nods.

so you take her hand and lead her to the bedroom.

you undress her gently. like she’s fragile. like she’s art. her hoodie first. then the tank top soaked through with sweat from practice. the sports bra that clings to her ribs. every inch of her is tense, but she doesn’t stop you.

you press kisses down her spine, her shoulders, her stomach. you whisper soft things—how proud you are, how beautiful she is, how much you adore her—even when she shakes her head, even when she doesn’t believe it.

you undress yourself, too, and let the room stay quiet. warm. slow.

you want to give her something soft in return for everything hard she’s faced today.

you kiss her again. deeper this time. her fingers clutch at your hips like she’s afraid to fall apart without you.

you press her gently into the mattress.

you move over her like a promise.

your hands trail over her skin slowly, deliberately, as you ease your way down her body. the waistband of her shorts yields under your fingers, sliding down along with her boxers in one fluid motion before you toss them aside, forgotten.

you gently guide her legs up, spreading her open for you. your breath brushes against her heat, and she instantly shudders, inhaling sharply, her thighs twitching slightly from the anticipation alone.

your tongue flicks out, gliding a long, slow stripe up her folds. she tastes like heaven, sweet and warm, and you groan low in your throat as her fingers tangle in your hair with need.

you run your hands up her thighs, grounding her, taking your time like she deserves — no rush, just tenderness.

your tongue finds her clit and circles it gently, then your lips close around it, sucking slow and soft. her breath catches.

“shit…” she moans, her head falling back against the cushions, eyes fluttering shut.

you slide two fingers through her slick folds, teasing before easing them inside her, curling upward just right — the way that makes her body jerk beneath you.

she squirms, hips bucking reflexively, and you hold her down with one arm, keeping her steady as your fingers move with practiced grace.

you thrust slow and deep, curling with each pass, watching the way her face shifts as you hit that one spot — the one that makes her mouth fall open, brows draw together, eyes roll back.

“don’t stop,” she whimpers, voice strained, hands clutching at you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish.

your tongue stays on her clit, alternating flicks with firm sucks, building her up, never letting her settle.

“fuck, i’m close,” she whispers, breathless like she’s praying under her breath. “baby, please…”

you pick up your pace — fingers thrusting faster, your tongue licking harder, lips wrapping tighter around her clit as she edges closer and closer.

then she breaks.

her whole body arches off the couch, a strangled moan slipping from her throat as her orgasm crashes over her. her legs tremble around your shoulders, one hand pressing your face closer, the other fisting the blanket beneath her.

you stay with her, licking gently, helping her ride it out, your fingers slipping out slowly. you bring them to your mouth, sucking them clean with a soft moan of your own, all while your eyes stay locked on hers.

“you okay, baby?” you ask gently, brushing your thumb along her thigh as you kneel between her legs.

she nods, her breathing still uneven, lips parted in the haze of afterglow.

you lean in to kiss her temple. “good,” you murmur, voice low and tender. “cause i really need t’feel you.”

you slide your own shorts down and climb back over her, your movements slow, sensual. at first, you straddle her thigh, letting the heat of your wetness press against her skin, but then you shift — hips sliding forward until your center meets hers.

the contact is instant. blinding.

your clits press together, slick and swollen, and you both moan at the same time — hers a ragged gasp, yours a needy breath that catches in your throat.

her hands find your hips, gripping tight as she helps guide your movement. you rock forward slowly, letting your bodies grind together in slow, aching circles.

the sound between you is obscene — wet and rhythmic — and it only fuels the fire already building in your stomach.

“fuck, you feel so good,” she groans, eyes low as she looks down to where your bodies are joined. “look at us, baby…”

you moan at the sight too — her slick mixed with yours, glistening with every roll of your hips.

“yeah?” you pant, riding her a little faster now. “you like that?”

“fuck, yes,” she breathes, her grip tightening. “so much. i’m already—fuck, baby, i’m gonna come again…”

“come with me,” you whisper against her lips, hips moving desperately. “please, paige…”

a few more frantic grinds and you both break — moaning each other’s names, clinging tightly, hips stuttering as your orgasms hit in perfect sync, overwhelming and all-consuming.

your bodies stay locked together, trembling, breathless, tangled in each other’s warmth.

—

after, she doesn’t let you go.

not even for a second.

you lie on your side, face tucked into her neck, her arm wrapped tight around your back like she’s grounding herself in the fact that you’re real. that this is real.

you’re quiet for a while. her breathing is slow. calmer than before. her skin is still flushed, her lips kiss-bruised, her voice raspy from how much she gave you. how much you pulled from her.

and yet—there’s peace in her now.

there’s something close to relief.

“thank you,” she murmurs. “for not giving up on me.”

you press a kiss beneath her jaw. “never even crossed my mind.”

she lets out a shaky breath. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you smile against her skin. “good thing you’ll never have to find out.”

she laughs quietly. the sound is small, but it’s genuine. the first real laugh you’ve heard from her in days.

she kisses your temple. “you’re kind of amazing, you know.”

“only kind of?”

“okay—fully,” she concedes, pulling you even closer. “you’re fully amazing.”

you hum. “i’ll accept that.”

her fingers trace lazy lines down your spine now, soft and slow. she’s not rushing to sleep. not racing toward tomorrow. she’s just here. present. hers again.

“you make me feel like i’m still me,” she says quietly.

you kiss her collarbone. “that’s all i want.”

“can we just stay like this?” she asks. “just for tonight?”

you nod without hesitation. “yeah, baby. we can.”

and so you do.

wrapped in each other.

no spotlight. no pressure. no critics.

just you and her, steady and quiet and safe.

and finally—finally—she sleeps.

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ sub/bottom paige will forever have my heart no doubt ab it, no shame either.

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @iwasbored-okay @kl0verk @bqringtears @agnesblight @scarlett177 @syraxsbigfanfr @youmeandjennessey @asapeveryday

h

[lighting-and-shadow]

Post LADS Main Story: NonMC Reader x Sylus

So I had a thought again: you being reincarnated into the world of LADS, but after the story ends. Ever is no more. Wanderers have been cured and don't exist anymore. The world is relatively peaceful.

MC has found her happy ending with one of the boys, something you find out during a stroll in Linkon City. And it's not Sylus.

I was thinking it would be Xavier for the angst factor. Because, to Sylus, she chose the prince of the people that caused him so much pain over him. She chose the light Xavier represents over his darkness. She chose someone who, in Sylus' mind, was born with everything over him who worked to get everything he has for her sake.

Or maybe she chose Caleb. And that would hurt too because Sylus realizes that while they only had each other in the past, she overlooks that for her present. That their history isn't nearly as valuble as her history with Caleb.

Either way, it causes sad boy hours. The man is devasted. And while he and MC still have a friendship, it's a bit toxic. No longer do they play Kitty Cards or spend time at the claw machine. With the new love in her life, all that's left for Sylus is scraps.

She uses him. Calls him when she needs something or she wants to do something. But if it's him? She blows him off. She treats him like a joke.

Maybe not even truly realizing that she is (but part of me wants to go the bitch route because I've made her so nice in all my other current works and WIPs; I blame @rcvcgers for this (I say this with love, because I honest to god love Rotten Apples), and need to channel that anger).

Then it gets worse: he dies. She remembers her past with him, and gives back the other half of his soul. And then she turns her back on him for good, cutting ties because their morals are just incompatible. He's so devasted that he takes his own life, no longer immortal because his sorceress abandoned him (just like everyone else did).

But anyways, you figure this out, and basically come barging into his life. Not to make him love you. Not to get her to love him. But to give him something to latch onto.

Let's say Sylus was your favorite in the game (as he is for me, clearly), so you act like a total, batshit crazy, fan girl. And there's something about that crackhead energy that makes him drawn to you.

So you bug him. And bug him. And bug him endlessly. Because even annoyance and anger are better than emptiness and coldness he carries right now. Sure, he hides it well behind snark and flirting, but you know him better. You've watched him from behind a scene for quite some time.

I imagine the reason you're kept around is because of the chaotic nature of who you are and the knowledge you have. And because Sylus doesn't have it in him to give a shit. You're not a threat. If anything, it was the twins that convinced him of your use.

So you live at the base, occassionally witnessing the toxic nature of him and MC's dynamic. And you come up with a plan to help him get over her. Not by making him love you, you'd never be worthy of that, but of getting him to realize that his sorceress is dead. That even it's technically the same the person in soul, she's not the same at her (Aether) core.

Doing so makes you fall even further in love. You discover things about him a simple game could never. You see sights and experience parts of this world that could never captured by a screen or some code. And it hurts.

It hurts because he's more than just a character to you. He cares for you, is soft with you. He buys you things, helps braid your hair, takes you to fancy venues, stands up for you, protects you... You almost think that he loves you.

But that's silly. Who would love you? Who would love the real you, and not the one you present to the world? The one that cries at nothing? The one consumed by anxiety and insecurity? The one that hides under layers and layers of walls capped off by an impenetrable mask? The one that hid herself and changed herself for so many years? The one you're not even sure still exists?

You're such a fraud.

(This whole prompt was inspired by the Webtoon My Derelict Favorite, and I couldn't get it out of my head).

[brookghaib-blog]

The ghost I left behind- IV

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Word Count: 8,6k

Trigger Warning: Descriptions of abuse, non-consensual acts, and dv

Chapter III

--

Y/N's pov

The sonogram was warm in her hands, fresh from the printer, the paper still curled slightly at the edges. The tiny, blurry figure in the middle of the grainy image was the clearest thing she’d seen all day. Her boy. Her baby boy.

Y/N cradled the picture like it was something sacred, held close to her chest as she stepped out of the clinic’s sliding doors. The sun was high, but it wasn’t hot — the breeze was soft, like it had waited for her to come outside. She blinked up at the sky, trying to steady her breath. It should’ve been a good day. She wanted it to be a good day.

Her hand slipped into her coat pocket to find her phone, fingers moving from habit more than excitement. She scrolled to Mr. Cooper’s contact and hit dial. It rang once, then twice, and then his gentle, gruff voice came through the line.

"Hey, kid. You alright?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, I’m… I just got out. The appointment.”

A pause on the other end, before his voice softened. “And?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, holding up the sonogram again as if he could see it through the phone.

“It’s a boy,” she said. Her voice cracked just slightly. “I’m having a boy.”

There was a breath from Cooper, a quiet joy. “A boy, huh? Well, I’ll be damned. That little guy’s gonna have my old sheriff hat whether he likes it or not.”

She laughed through her nose, a brittle sound, eyes stinging. “Thanks for helping me get there. I know it’s not much, but—”

“You don’t owe me a thing. You hear me? Not one thing.”

Y/N smiled again, starting to cross the street, her fingers wrapped around the phone with one hand and the sonogram with the other. She wanted to keep them both close, like maybe this moment could make up for everything.

But then the air shifted.

The warmth of the sun dimmed in an instant, as if the light itself had been swallowed. A gust of wind pushed through the street, sudden and bitter cold, making her jacket whip around her. And then — screams.

It started as a murmur, then exploded like glass shattering. A crowd of people came sprinting down the sidewalk, faces twisted in panic, some pushing, others crying.

She turned instinctively, heart stalling.

“What the hell—?” Cooper’s voice still echoed through the phone in her ear.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

Then she saw it.

An enormous wave of darkness rolling down the street like ink pouring from the sky. No source. No center. Just shadow, alive and hunting. It crawled over buildings and lampposts, swallowing cars like they were made of air. People disappeared into it without a sound.

“No. No, no, no—”

Y/N turned, trying to run. Her legs ached. Her lungs already burning. She was so tired. Every step was a war her body wasn’t ready for. Her hands instinctively wrapped over her belly, shielding the baby.

The shadow caught her.

A pulse of cold gripped her spine. She collapsed, knees hitting pavement, the phone clattering out of her hand. She curled around herself, shaking. Her eyes squeezed shut.

“Please,” she whispered, to no one. “Please, not my baby.”

Silence.

For a moment, all she could hear was her heartbeat and the wind. No screams. No rush of air. Just stillness.

Slowly, she opened her eyes—

And the world was wrong.

The pavement was gone, replaced with pink carpet and posters of teen idols peeling off pastel-colored walls. She blinked fast. The smell hit her next — old perfume, cheap foundation, the ghost of tears. Her childhood room.

No. No, no, no, no—

She stood slowly, the sonogram still clutched in her hand, now crumpled. Her throat was dry, too dry to scream. Her fingers trembled.

And then she heard it — soft sniffles behind her.

Y/N turned.

There she was. Sitting in front of the vanity mirror, makeup streaking down her cheeks. Her eyeliner smudged, lips bitten raw from trying not to cry. She was wiping her face with trembling hands, muttering something to herself over and over.

She was alone.

Y/N took a step forward, mouth agape. Her voice barely came out.

“…no.”

The younger version of her didn’t turn. She just kept crying, wiping, trying to make herself invisible. Her tiny shoulders shook with the weight of years to come. The pain hadn’t even begun yet, but it lived in her eyes already — that hollow ache of being forgotten.

Y/N’s knees buckled.

She knelt on the floor, watching her past unravel in front of her like a cruel memory she never asked to revisit. Her chest burned. She knew this night. She remembered what came next — the door slamming, the silence afterward, the lie she told herself that she deserved it.

She remembered how broken she felt.

And now she was here, again, somehow — years later, a different woman, with a baby boy growing inside her — being forced to relive the origin of all the hurt.

Tears fell freely now. She reached toward her younger self, but her hand caressed her hair.

“Don’t believe him,” she whispered. “You’re not unlovable. You didn’t deserve it.”

The girl didn’t hear her.

--

30 min's ago - WatchTower

The Thunderbolts had failed to contain what Valentina had hidden in the bowels of the compound — Bob, or what he had become.

The Watchtower’s holding area was in ruins now, its steel walls torn and warped like foil. Sentry hovered in the aftermath, bathed in eerie sunlight that seemed to dim as he rose higher. His eyes were gold-white, glowing like small stars. The team below — Yelena, Bucky, Alexei, Ava — all stood bruised and stunned after the encounter. They hadn’t stood a chance.

They just run, holding together in the elevator to their way out.

Valentina stood in the observation deck, fists clenched against the railing, watching as her most powerful asset simply hovered, silent, still. She snapped the comm open, voice coiled with venom.

“You were supposed to finish them, Sentry,” she hissed. “That was the deal. Loose ends are dangerous.”

Inside his helmet, Bob’s jaw tightened.

“They weren’t a threat to me, there's no reason to kill them,” he said softly, his voice laced with something unplaceable. “They wanted to help.”

“They were going to contain you. Chain you up,” she snapped. “Like they always will. Like she will, if you ever go back.”

Bob’s breathing quickened. He felt it again — that slow unraveling of clarity, like silk tearing at the seams. The image of Y/N crossed his mind, soft and shimmering like a memory soaked in sun.

Valentina’s voice dragged him back.

“You think she’ll still want you? After all this? After what you’ve done?” Her voice softened, almost mocking. “You’re not him anymore. You’re not the man she loved. You're a little freak now, not her sweet Bobby.” She said smirking. "You follow my orders, you're my employee."

He turned slowly.

"First of all, why would I...a God... follow you're orders. Do you know what I'm capable of?... Maybe I need to show you."

She barely flinched when he appeared. His hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her off the floor, pinning agasint the nearst wall, her eyes widened.

“And second of all. You don’t get to say her name, or even talk about her in way anymore.” he growled.

And then—click.

A sharp, deliberate sound echoed in the room. Mel. Silent and ghostlike, standing in the shadows, holding the black device in one gloved hand. A button pressed.

It was their failsafe. A synthetic trigger engineered into his bloodstream.

Bob gasped, light crackling from his skin, golden energy fracturing into black tendrils. His eyes flickered — from gold, to nothingness. To void.

Valentina just smirks at the scene. "Well well, looks like you resolve your loyalty issue".

Mel just give her the switch and dismiss her words, "I want a raise."

--

It wasn’t a kill switch. It was a collapse switch.

Bob didn’t scream. He didn’t fall. He just changed.

The light inside him flickered — gold flaring once, then warping into sickening black. His hands curled inward, his veins pulsing dark. The suit clung to him like oil as his feet lifted from the ground, and then—

He was no longer Bob.

He was no longer Sentry.

He was Void.

A shadow the size of a god rose into the air, its edges tearing against the clouds. Its shape was man-like only in suggestion — too fluid, too monstrous. Wings like smoke, teeth like glass, eyes like stars dying out.

The wind changed. The sky darkened. Even Valentina, hardened as she was, took an unconscious step back.

The Void circled the tower once, slow and deliberate. Watching. Waiting.

For what, no one knew.

Yelena stared up, her breath catching in her throat. Bucky’s jaw was locked, unreadable. Ava barely kept her form solid, whispering that they had to leave — now. Even Walker stood silent, hand frozen halfway to his now bend shield.

They had failed the mission.

Worse — they had released something far beyond what they were meant to contain.

Valentina didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Her eyes never left the sky.

The Void hovered above them, an eclipse in motion.

And then, without warning, it vanished into the clouds, a streak of darkness slipping into the stratosphere — fast as light, and twice as cold.

Silence returned. The mission was over.

But something much worse had just begun. Covering New York in a shallow darkness, and taking everyone else with it.

--

Y/N’s pov

The room around her hadn’t faded — not like she hoped it would. Y/N remained frozen, her body heavy like she was sinking into the carpet of her childhood bedroom. The quiet crying of her younger self continued at the vanity, face streaked with smeared mascara and glitter that clung to her skin like bruises she didn’t know how to name.

“Please,” she whispered again, louder this time, trying to reach her past self. “Don’t cry. Please—”

She knew what came next.

SLAM.

The door burst open with a thunderous crack against the wall, rattling the frames, making both versions of her flinch. Her mother stood in the doorway — tall, beautiful, cruel in the way only someone who knew your deepest insecurities could be. She had a cigarette hanging from her red lipstick-stained mouth, purse slung carelessly over her shoulder, already halfway out the door even as she entered.

“Y/N!” she barked, eyes narrowing at the sight in front of her. “Jesus Christ, look at you. Is that what you’re wearing?”

Young Y/N snapped to attention like a soldier caught out of uniform. She stood shakily from her stool, wiping her face more frantically now, trying to erase the shame, the night, the truth.

“Mom…” Her voice broke around the word like it was glass in her throat. “Mom, I— I need help.”

She moved forward, arms outstretched, like the little girl she was under all the eyeliner and attitude. Just a child begging for her mother.

“I don’t feel good, I think something happened— I think— I’m scared—”

But her mother took a step back like she’d been slapped. “Get your hands off me.”

Y/N watched — helpless — as her mother’s eyes scanned the too-short dress, the swollen, tear-rimmed eyes, the trembling hands, and curled her lip like she’d found something rotten in the fridge.

“You look like a little whore,” she snapped, adjusting her purse strap. “You want attention? Congratulations, you look like you got it.”

The younger Y/N’s face shattered.

“No— No, I didn’t want— I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, don’t start with the dramatics,” her mother cut her off coldly, heading back toward the door. “I’m going out. Your dad’s not coming this weekend, by the way — surprise, surprise. There’s leftovers in the fridge. Make yourself useful for once and clean up that mess you call a face. I don’t want to see it when I get back.”

“Mom— Mom, please. Please just stay—” the girl sobbed, trying again to move toward her, to just touch her sleeve, to be heard—

The woman turned and shoved her daughter back, hard enough to make her stumble.

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked. “God, why couldn’t I have had a normal daughter?! Just one night without you ruining it, that’s all I ever ask!”

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

The door slammed again. The walls shook with the echo. Silence bloomed.

Young Y/N dropped to her knees and finally screamed, a raw, broken sound that twisted through the air and made the older Y/N’s stomach flip. The sound wasn’t loud — not like it should’ve been — it was muffled by time, memory, shame. But it cut like glass all the same.

Older Y/N stood frozen in the corner, her hands clutching the sonogram against her chest. Tears streamed down her face, hot and fast. Her mouth opened but no words came. She felt helpless. Useless.

She hadn’t remembered it this vividly in years. Not like this. Not the smell of her mother’s perfume, or the exact way the light hit the silver vanity tray. Not the sound of her own younger voice cracking under desperation.

She backed away, heart pounding.

“No,” she whispered, over and over. “No. No, I don’t want to be here. This isn’t real. It’s not real.”

But it was. Her younger self had collapsed on the floor now, sobbing into her knees. And there was no one to help her.

Y/N reached for the door. It didn’t open. She tried again, harder — nothing. Her fingers clawed at the knob, breath heaving now, the walls of the room beginning to bend and tilt, as though the house was a memory starting to melt.

“Let me out— please, I can’t— I can’t do this again!”

The walls whispered.

She heard her own voice — her younger self was now looking at her.

"You deserved it, didn’t you? That’s what he said. That’s what you believed."

“No—”

"You still believe it sometimes."

“Stop it!”

"If you were stronger, you’d have left sooner. If you were smarter, you’d have seen it coming. If you were worthy, he’d have stayed."

“Stop it!”

She turned and screamed at the room. She looked at the mirror on the wall, another room, without making any sense of what's the racional reasons of this happening, she jumps into falling into the room. Jordan's room.

Oh no, no,no,no, not this...this can't be...

--

Bob's pov

The Void had no shape.

It breathed around him — slow, cold, and endless. A black sea without water. A sky without stars. Bob floated in it, weightless and drowning all at once.

The silence pressed against his ears like pressure at the bottom of the ocean.

Then came the first room.

He didn’t walk into it. It unfolded around him — one blink and he was standing in the middle of it. A small bathroom. White tiles stained yellow. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry bees.

He stared at himself in the mirror.

Younger. Gaunt. Bruised knuckles, a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop dripping. His eyes red from crying, from the needle still swinging in the sink beside him.

The door burst open — the version of himself sitting in the memory didn’t flinch.

It was his mother.

“I can’t do this with you anymore, Robert!” she screamed. Her mascara ran. “You make everything worse.”

Bob tried to speak — to reach out — but his voice didn’t work here.

The past couldn’t hear him.

The next room swallowed the last.

Second room. A military facility. Stark. A flickering overhead light buzzed like a dying insect. Soldiers screamed in the distance — training exercises. Gunshots.

Bob was 19. Sitting in the corner of a locker room, shaking, knuckles split open from punching a wall.

"You're unstable, Reynolds. You lash out and break things. I don't want you on my team if I can't trust you."

Captain Hunt’s voice. Firm. Tired. Disgusted.

And then—

Third room. A hospital. Late night. Sterile smell. Fluorescent white.

He sat alone in a plastic chair, watching a heart monitor go flatline.

His first serious attempt. His own heartbeat crawling back into his chest with a kind of shame no one teaches you how to carry.

The nurses hadn’t asked questions. No one had called anyone.

Not one person showed up.

Fourth room. A motel.

Dim. Stained sheets. Cracked mirror. The bag of meth still sitting on the nightstand. He stared at it, then at his reflection.

His voice finally returned — not strong, but tired.

“I’m trying,” he whispered to himself. “I’m trying.”

His reflection didn’t believe him.

Then the fifth room swallowed him whole.

And this one was different.

Warm.

He looked around — disoriented, blinking.

The wallpaper was pale blue with hand-drawn spaceships and stars. A night light still glowed in the corner. A box of toys sat against the wall — old and worn but loved. There were crayon drawings taped haphazardly to the closet door. In the middle of it all was a twin-sized bed with dinosaur covers.

Bob took a shaky breath. His chest rose and fell like it hadn’t in hours.

This was his room.

His real one. From before things fell apart.

Before the shouting. Before the needle. Before the screaming void.

So he sat, down. It was quiet. Perfect for a place like the void. Peacefull.

He doesn't know how long he stayed there until Yelena came, he doesn't know how he still had the strengh to get up, to overpower the void.

It was a power that came from them. His new friends. His new..'team'?

He doesn't recollect it all, but for the first time in months, he didn't feel like he was alone. They made their way out of the room,out of this house out of the memory, and back into the storming present — where the real war still waited.

Together they went through several rooms from his and other people's memories. Fighting their traumas' into a way out.

He doesn't now when. But they ended up here.

The world around them was not the real one — they knew that much.

The walls breathed. The air crackled with an unnatural hum, and gravity shifted with moods, not science. Inside the Void’s domain, nothing obeyed logic. The Thunderbolts stood huddled, silent and alert, their eyes scanning the horizon of an endless black that shimmered like oil under a dim sky. This was the mind — or madness — of Sentry.

Of Bob.

Yelena’s fingers tightened around her weapon, though it was useless here. Ava moved like a whisper behind her, while Walker stood with hands slightly raised, reading the tension, always waiting. Even Bucky, hardened by war and grief, looked visibly unsettled.

Then something shifted.

A tear in the air — like a crack in glass — split open ahead of them. Shadows poured through the breach, not menacing this time, but familiar. Like memories. Like ghosts.

Suddenly, they weren’t in the abyss anymore.

They were in a small apartment kitchen — dim, quiet, but worn with the comfort of being lived in.

And then — voices.

Bob’s own voice, worn down with shame, cracked through the space like thunder.

“You went through my things?”

They turned toward the source.

There he was — Bob — standing just a few feet away, the projection of him caught in a moment past. And across from him, her.

Y/N.

She was standing in their small living room, trembling hands clutching a small plastic bag, holding crushed pills and powder. Her eyes were puffy from crying, voice shaking.

“I was doing laundry, Bob. It fell out of your jacket.”

Real Bob — the one standing in the shadows with the Thunderbolts — went completely still. His breath caught in his throat. This was a memory he hadn't thought about in what felt like years. Maybe he’d buried it on purpose.

“You said you stopped,” she whispered in the memory, voice small but cutting. “You told me you wanted to get clean. For us.”

“I do” Bob said. “I just— I needed it, just once more. I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, hugging herself like she was trying to keep from unraveling.

“You lied to me. And what scares me most is that I keep forgiving you because I think maybe you hate yourself enough already.”

The room spun. The Thunderbolts watched in stunned silence, not quite understanding what they were witnessing — it felt too intimate, too raw to be for them. A woman they’d never seen, spilling tears for a version of Bob they'd never known.

Ghost shifted her stance uncomfortably. Even Yelena’s brow furrowed — the name Y/N flickering in her mind now like a question. The weight in the air was different than anything they’d faced. This wasn’t a villain. This wasn’t a fight.

This was a wound.

The memory played on.

“I’m not enough, am I?” Y/N asked, voice cracking. “Not enough to make you stop. Not enough to love without condition. I’m tired, Bobby. I can't live for you, I love you, but this has to stop, please.”

He didn’t respond. He looked like he wanted to — lips parted, hands shaking — but no words came.

Everyone turned to look at the real Bob, who had fallen to his knees, eyes wide with horror, tears brimming at the edges.

“She’s real,” he whispered.

Yelena blinked, stepping forward gently. “Who is she, Bob?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared at the frozen image of Y/N like it had torn his ribs open.

“She’s... she's my girlfriend, my child's mother,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “My girl. I loved her more than anything. And I left her.”

No one spoke.

“She found out she was pregnant days before I left,” Bob added, as though confessing to a grave sin. “I never saw the bump. I never got to feel the baby kick. I don’t even know how it's going if they're healthy…”

His voice broke, and he covered his face with a trembling hand.

“I wanted to be better. I swear to God, I did. But I was afraid I’d hurt her again. That I’d ruin the only good thing I ever had. So I disappeared. Told myself it was protection. Told myself I’d come back. For her, be a good, healthy father for our baby.But it’s been… so long.”

Yelena approached quietly, crouching beside him.

“She’s alive?”

He nodded. “Valentina told me so. She's pregnant. Five months now.”

A silence fell again — but not the cold kind. This time, it was heavy with understanding. They all had blood on their hands. But this was different. This was grief. Regret. A man torn in half by his own guilt.

Ava spoke up, voice strangely soft through her modulator.

“Let's get out of here, this is not the way out come on”

Bob’s gaze lifted to the suspended image of Y/N — frozen in time, crying, still holding the drugs like they were the last piece of him she could trust. He just runs along with the others, jumping into another room.

The world shimmered again.

The corridor they’d just been standing in melted into dim velvet walls, low golden lighting, and pulsing bass vibrating faintly beneath their feet. A private lounge. Exclusive. Sleek. Quietly decadent.

Bob turned slowly, gaze sweeping over the room. It was too elegant to be one of his memories. And it didn’t feel like his. Not the way the others had. There was no anxiety prickling under his skin, no familiarity clawing at the edges of his mind.

The couches were velvet, the tables sleek marble. Laughter echoed from a corner—high-pitched, sugar-coated and sharp. A group of girls lounged around a bottle-service table, glittering dresses and tired smiles, eyes heavy with intoxication and mascara.

Then Bob saw her.

Y/N. Young.

God, she was so young.

Seventeen, maybe. Dressed in a short black dress with silver accents, legs crossed tightly at the ankle. Her hair was curled and pinned half-up like she was trying to mimic a movie star, but her eyes told another story—she looked nervous, small, out of place.

Next to her sat a man. Clean-cut. Older—definitely older. Late thirties, maybe. He wore a sharp blazer over a white shirt, no tie, just casual enough to seem approachable. He had his arm resting behind her shoulders, fingers brushing lightly against her hair. Possessive without looking it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth like polished mahogany. “Just a little. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I don’t know...” Young Y/N laughed lightly, clearly uncertain. “I’ve never really done that stuff.”

“That’s okay,” he said, smiling, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. I like you just like this.”

She blinked. Something about the way he looked at her—it was like he saw her. Like she mattered. Bob’s heart clenched painfully watching it.

“I just think you’re incredible,” Jordan continued. “The way you walk into a room like you’re not trying to impress anyone. You’ve got this... spark. It kills me.”

Y/N looked down, shy. “You really think that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, resting his hand gently on her thigh. “You’re nothing like these other girls. You’re thoughtful. Real. Not just some pretty thing. You’ve got depth, baby. And I see that. I see you.”

Bob could barely breathe.

“He’s grooming her,” Ava muttered under her breath.

Yelena glanced at her, then at Bob. “Is this her memory?”

Bob’s jaw was tight. “Yeah,” he said. His voice cracked. “It is.”

On the couch, one of the girls passed a thin line of powder to Jordan, who declined with a polite shake of his head. Instead, he passed it to Y/N. “Only if you want to,” he said gently. “No pressure. I’d never make you do anything. But I want you to feel good tonight. You deserve to feel loved.”

Y/N hesitated. The edges of her smile were starting to quiver. She stared at the powder. Then at Jordan. “You really think I’m... special?”

“I don’t waste time on girls who aren’t,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her cheek, feather-light. “You’ve got a heart bigger than anyone in this room. I just want to take care of it.”

She closed her eyes, almost swayed by it.

Bob couldn’t look away. His hands were shaking. “She thought he loved her,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “She told me... once. That for a while, she believed every word. That she was lucky to have someone love her that much.”

“She was a child,” Yelena growled.

“She didn’t know,” Bob whispered. “She didn’t know what she deserved. She thought this was it—someone older, who gave her attention. That was enough.”

Y/N ends up taking the drugs. She handed the little plate back with a quiet after taking the powder “uff, that's ahm..weird?” She said smiling at Jordan.

Jordan smiled like she’d just told him a secret. “See? That’s what I like about you. You’re strong. Classy. You didn't even make a face pretty girl.”

Then he kissed her and whispered, “That’s why I love you.”

And Y/N believed it. "And I love you too."

You could see it—the way her shoulders relaxed, the way she leaned into him slightly. Desperate for comfort. For a promise that someone in the world wanted her.

The team stood there in silence.

Bob’s eyes were glassy. He swallowed hard. “She just wanted someone to choose her. To protect her. And instead... she got him.”

Ava’s face was grim. “And then she got you.”

Bob flinched.

But Yelena shook her head gently. “You loved her. You didn’t want anything from her but to be loved back. That matters.”

Bob said nothing for a long while. He just stood there, staring at the younger version of her—wide-eyed, smiling faintly, still foolish enough to believe that this man would be different.

That he would be safe.

“God,” he muttered, voice breaking, “I hope she knows she’s more than this.”

“That wasn’t yours,” Bucky finally said, his voice low, like he was afraid of scaring something away. “That memory. It wasn’t from you.”

Bob shook his head slowly. “No. That was hers.”

Yelena’s brow furrowed. “How the hell are we seeing her memories?”

“Maybe...” Ava started, then hesitated. She glanced around at the endless dark edges of the Void as if searching for a crack. “Maybe because she’s here.”

The weight of her words hit like a bomb.

Bob turned to her sharply. “What?”

“If the Void is showing her memories,” she said, “then it’s not just pulling from you anymore. It’s pulling from someone else too. That only happens when someone’s inside.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “You think the Void got her?”

“I don’t think,” Ava said. “I know.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “So she’s trapped in this thing.”

Bob’s breath caught in his throat. The walls seemed to close in around him as the meaning sunk in—Y/N, his Y/N, alone somewhere in this abyss, reliving the worst parts of her life, again and again, without even knowing why.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped. “No... no, no—she can’t be here. She can’t be.”

“She is,” Ava said softly. “We’ve all been stuck in this thing long enough to know how it works. It latches onto trauma. It feeds on it. Memories, shame, fear—it twists it all into a prison.”

“But she’s not like us,” Bob said, his voice cracking. “She didn’t sign up for this. She didn’t even do anything.”

“That doesn’t matter to the Void,” Bucky said grimly. “It doesn’t care who you are. If it senses pain, if it senses broken pieces... it pulls you in.”

Bob’s knees buckled slightly, and he sank to a low stool at the edge of the room, head in his hands.

“She’s pregnant,” he whispered. “She’s alone. She’s scared. And now she’s trapped in this fucking nightmare.”

Yelena knelt in front of him. “Then we find her. Before this place tears her apart.”

“How?” he asked, voice hoarse. “How the hell do we find her in all this?”

Ava stepped forward. “We follow the memories. The further in we go, the more pieces we see. If she’s really here, then the Void is using her too. Pulling her pain to the surface. If we find the source—if we find the most vivid parts—we find her.”

Bucky nodded. “And we pull her out.”

“But she doesn’t even know what this is,” Bob said, lifting his head. His eyes were red, desperate. “She won’t understand. She’ll think it’s real. She’ll feel it all like it’s happening again.”

“She’s strong,” Yelena said. “We’ve seen that.”

Bob shook his head. “Not like this. Not this kind of pain. She spent her whole life thinking she wasn’t worth loving, and now she’s in a place that’s built to prove her right.”

He clenched his fists, jaw tightening. “She’s not just some damsel in distress. She’s better than me. Smarter. Braver. But I left her. I abandoned her when she needed me most, and now she’s paying the price for my broken mind.”

Bucky took a step closer, his voice steady. “Then don’t waste time wallowing in guilt. Use it. Channel it. Because if we don’t get to her soon, this place will bury her alive in her own pain.”

Bob stood slowly, the weight of resolve settling over him like armor. “Then we go deeper. Into the worst of it.”

He turned to Ava. “You said it feeds on trauma. So we find the worst of her memories. The ones it would never let go of. She has to be somewhere here."

--

Y/N's pov

The air was thick. Too warm. Still.

Y/N stood barefoot on the cold hardwood floor of his penthouse apartment—Jordan’s.

The bedroom was dim, the curtains drawn. The city lights barely peeked through the thin cracks. She heard rustling behind her. Her breath caught.

There—on the bed—her younger self, stirring under crumpled sheets, the silk blanket clinging to damp, bare skin.

The girl woke slowly, confusion in her eyes before she blinked into the dark. She moved, groggily at first… then winced. Her body recoiled, the pain sharp and unignorable. Her fingers clutched the sheet closer to her chest. She looked down.

Y/N—the older one—stood frozen. Watching. Remembering.

“No, no, no,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. Her hands trembled at her sides. “Please don’t do this. Don’t make me see this again.”

But the Void was cruel. It always had been.

Young Y/N stood slowly, wobbling on weak legs. The sheet wrapped around her like a lifeline, like it could protect her from what her mind already knew but refused to say out loud.

She stepped into the hallway, bare feet silent, breath uneven. She turned toward the kitchen.

And there he was.

Jordan.

Dressed casually—sweatpants, t-shirt—like he hadn’t just stolen something sacred. He was humming. Cheerful. Making coffee. His hair was damp like he’d just showered. Like it was just another morning.

The older Y/N followed behind, nearly tripping over her own breath, like she could somehow get in front of this. Stop it.

Jordan turned at the sound of movement, his smile stretching effortlessly across his smug, handsome face.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his voice chipper, as if they were a normal couple waking up after a beautiful night. “You were out cold last night. Want some breakfast? I make a killer omelet.”

The younger Y/N stopped in her tracks. Her lips parted, her face pale, horrified. “What... what did you do to me?” Her voice was so quiet at first, but it shook.

Jordan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You...” She clutched the sheet tighter, eyes blinking rapidly, on the verge of spiraling. “You gave me something. I didn’t want to sleep with you. I—I said no. I remember saying no. And then—then nothing.”

The smile on Jordan’s face flickered. Then vanished.

He stepped forward, casual in that way predators often are. “Woah, woah. Babe. Don’t be like that. You were into it. Trust me—you wanted it. I just gave you a little something to relax, that’s all. You were stressed out.”

“I didn’t want to relax,” she said, her voice cracking. “I said no. You said we’d just hang out. I thought—” Her voice broke. “I thought you loved me.”

Jordan’s face changed entirely. The warmth drained out of his expression, replaced with cold irritation.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” he said, voice darkening. “After everything I’ve done for you? I brought you into my home, gave you everything, and now you’re acting like some fucking victim?”

Older Y/N stepped forward, voice raised. “Stop it. Please. Stop it!”

Young Y/N was sobbing now, inching backward. “You drugged me, Jordan. You used me.”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched.

“You better watch how you talk to me.”

And then—he moved.

It happened so fast.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She yelped, trying to pull away, but he yanked her forward and slammed her to the ground. The sheet slipped off her shoulder. She screamed, trying to crawl back, but he was already on top of her.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” he spat. “I loved you. I treated you like a goddamn queen.”

“You're hurting me!” she screamed.

“You don’t even know what the real world is like,” he hissed. “You’re just a sad little girl who needs daddy figures to fix you. Well guess what? No one else wanted you. You were mine.”

His hand wrapped around her throat.

“STOP IT!” older Y/N screamed, throwing herself at him. She crashed into him—but passed right through. She hit the floor hard, helpless. Her hands clawed the ground. “GET OFF HER!”

But he didn’t even notice. Because this wasn’t real. Not to him. But to her—it was everything.

Younger Y/N thrashed beneath him, choking, sobbing. “Please... Jordan, please...”

He leaned in close, voice low. “You don’t get to say no now.” And just like that, he let her go. He picked up his coffe mug and went to the sofa, turning on the news. "When you're ready to apologize, come here, okay sweetheart? You were really cruel to me, I didn't appreciate that."

Older Y/N crawled to her younger self who was sobbing, tears blinding her vision. She pressed her palms to the memory’s shoulders, trying to hold her, trying to shield her, desperate to end this.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know what love was supposed to look like.”

--

Bob was the first one to step inside.

Then they saw her.

Y/N.

Curled on the floor in the kitchen, holding someone tight—herself. A younger version of her, wrapped in a silk sheet, face buried in her own shoulder, both of them trembling, as if clutching one another was the only thing keeping them from falling apart completely.

Her hair was a mess. Her arms covered in scratches from trying to claw her way out of this hell. Her face streaked with tears and smeared makeup. But even broken, she looked like something Bob had forgotten how to breathe around.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Not yet.

It was Walker who whispered, “That’s her... That’s Y/N.”

But it was Yelena who understood first. “She’s not just a memory.”

“No,” Ava murmured. “She’s here. Trapped like we are.”

Y/N hadn’t noticed them yet. She was holding her younger self so tightly, whispering into her hair, soothing words and broken apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I should’ve seen it. I should’ve never loved him. I should’ve known this would happen. I just wanted to be seen. Just once. Just wanted to be enough for someone. I didn’t know it would hurt like this... I didn’t know I was gonna hate myself this much.”

Bob stepped forward. Slowly. Carefully. “Y/N.”

Her head didn’t move. She didn’t hear him. Or maybe she was too deep in the memory to want to.

He tried again, his voice cracking, tears already building in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s me.”

At that, her shoulders tensed.

Still holding the younger version of herself, she slowly turned her head.

She saw him.

And everything stopped.

She blinked—once, twice, trying to clear her eyes. But he didn’t vanish. He stayed. Standing there, in his suit, his hair wild and eyes filled with tears, chest heaving like he hadn’t taken a full breath since he last saw her.

Behind him stood strangers—faces she didn’t recognize. A blonde girl with cold, sharp eyes. A man with a metal arm. A ghost of a woman in black. But she didn’t care.

Her eyes locked on Bob.

Her Bob.

But she didn’t smile.

She flinched.

“No...” Her voice came out hoarse. “No. Not like this.”

Bob’s face fell. “Y/N, it’s really me.”

“No, no, you don’t get to do that,” she whispered, hugging her younger self tighter, closing her eyes like she could shut him out. “Not here. Not now. You’re not real. This place is evil, it shows me things just to break me. I’m done falling for that. I won’t let it take you, too.”

“It’s me,” he repeated, stepping closer. “I swear to you. I’m not an illusion. I found you—I found you.”

She shook her head violently. “No! You left me. You left before I even showed, before I even started to show! I waited and I waited and I screamed into a pillow every night, telling myself you’d come back—but you didn’t. And now I’m here, trapped in hell, and it’s using your face to punish me!”

Her breathing picked up. She stood up.

She stepped toward him, shaking.

“Don’t you dare look like him,” she said, her voice breaking. “Don’t you dare sound like him. Don’t pretend you care—don’t pretend you know what I’ve been through.”

Bob tried to reach out but she slapped his hand away.

She started hitting him. Soft at first—then harder. Fists against his chest, weak and desperate.

“You’re not him. You’re not him. You’re not my Bobby. He’s gone. He left me. He left me with a baby and no one to love me. He promised he'd never go and he fucking went!”

“I know,” he whispered, not even defending himself. “I know I did. I know I failed you.”

She hit him again and again until she couldn’t stand anymore.

Her knees gave out and she collapsed.

Bob caught her before she hit the floor. Held her like he had the first night she let him into her apartment, sobbing into his shirt, clutching him like he might disappear if she blinked.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I just wanted you to be real. I needed it to be you. I needed it to matter.”

“It does,” he choked out. “You matter. More than anything. And I swear to you, this isn’t a trick. I’m here. And I’m not leaving again. I swear to God, I’m not leaving again.”

She trembled in his arms, crying so hard her body shook. Her arms wrapped around his neck, afraid to believe it.

But for the first time in months, she let herself hope.

Because even in the heart of the Void—he came back for her.

It was heavy, fragile—like glass balancing on a thread. No one dared speak at first. Even Yelena, who had a dozen biting questions on the tip of her tongue, kept quiet. The sound of Y/N’s quiet sobs was all that filled the space, broken occasionally by Bob whispering apologies into her hair.

Walker finally stepped forward, his hands on his hips. “Okay, someone tell me how the hell we’re getting out of here now that we’ve got her.”

“We’re still in the Void,” Ava murmured, her voice echoing faintly in the strange, warped dimensions of the room. “Just because we found her doesn’t mean the exit’s magically going to open. We need a way to break it.”

Y/N blinked, still dazed, still shaking. She looked up at Bob with red-rimmed eyes. “How are you here?” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Is this real? I don’t understand. You left. You weren’t there. And now you are and everyone keeps saying Void and team and... what is happening, Bobby?”

Bob looked at her like he didn’t know how to start. “I... I will explain everything my love I promise you, it's a very very long story.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “How do I know this isn’t just another trick? How do I know you’re not just... another part of this nightmare?”

Bob grabbed her hand gently and pressed it to his chest. “Because you’re here, and I feel it. I feel you. And I don’t know how this place works, but I think the Void... it’s connected to all the pain we carry. All the things we can’t let go of. That’s how it traps us. With the worst parts of ourselves.”

Yelena crouched nearby, eyes on Y/N. “When the Void manifests a memory, it means the person’s in here. Alive. Which means we can all get out, if we stay together.”

Y/N glanced between them—these strangers standing like soldiers in her deepest trauma. “Who are you people?”

Bob chuckled softly through his tears. “They’re... complicated. But they’re helping me. Helping us. I promise.”

Before anyone could say more, a noise cut through the quiet—a voice.

"You look ugly when you cry, little one."

Everyone turned.

Jordan.

Still present, still part of the memory, casually walking across the kitchen to put his coffee mug in the sink. He hadn’t seen them—not really. He was part of the memory loop, the trauma replaying on a cruel cycle. But the voice, the condescension, the way it dripped like acid through the air—

Bob’s body moved before his brain could catch up.

He stormed across the room in two long strides and drove his fist into Jordan’s face so hard the man was lifted off his feet and crashed into the counter, crumpling like wet paper.

The room went silent again.

No one moved.

Not even younger Y/N, who had been curled on the floor, frozen in horror. Her form flickered slightly now, destabilizing. The memory unraveling at last.

Bob stood over Jordan’s unconscious form, fists still clenched, breath ragged. Then he looked back at Y/N—his Y/N—and gave her a sad smile. “You’ve always been beautiful,” he said gently. “And if our baby’s a girl... I hope she looks just like you.”

Y/N looked down, lips trembling. Her fingers reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the crumpled sonogram. She stared at it for a long moment, then looked back at him, her voice barely more than a breath.

“It’s a boy, Bobby... I just found out. Before everything... before this.”

Bob’s eyes widened, filling with tears all over again. “A boy...?”

She nodded, swallowing hard.

He stepped to her slowly, arms open, as if afraid she’d disappear again. She let him wrap his arms around her, and they clung to each other like survivors in the wreckage.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Y/N closed her eyes and clutched the sonogram between them, resting her forehead against his chest. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she admitted. “I don’t know where I am.”

Bob looked at her, then the team. “We’re getting out. All of us. Together.”

He reached down and gently helped her to her feet.

But before anyone could move, the walls of the apartment began to blur. The shadows of the kitchen twisted like liquid. The floor rumbled.

“It’s shifting again,” Ava warned, backing toward the group.

The room peeled apart like old wallpaper, revealing something new behind it—white fluorescent lights, steel walls, cold tiled floors.

Yelena’s eyes went wide. “This... this is the lab.”

“O.X.E.,” Bucky confirmed, stepping forward cautiously. “Where they were creating you.”

Bob held Y/N close as she looked around, now standing in the middle of a sterile hallway. Her head spun from the sudden shift, her mind reeling.

“I was here,” Bob murmured. “This is where they made me a weapon.”

Y/N clung to his arm, "Made you? What?", heart pounding. “Why did it bring us here now?”

And Walker, grim as ever, finally answered.

“Because it wants us to remember how the hell this all began.”

The room had grown impossibly still. Shadows danced across the cracked floor as the broken lights flickered overhead. By the lab window, seated a figure—tall, cloaked in flickering tendrils of smoke and malice. The Void.

He stood motionless, his gaze fixed beyond the glass as if watching something only he could see. Two figures, twisted and half-consumed by darkness, slumped beneath the window—doctors perhaps, or memories of victims long lost. Their stillness was chilling.

Then he turned.

Darkness poured from him like a second skin, his golden eyes burning through the room like embers in the night.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth, haunting, laced with venomous sweetness. “I finally found you.”

Y/N clutched Bob’s arm tightly, stepping back instinctively as her eyes searched the figure in front of her. The voice. That voice. It was him—but it wasn’t.

“What's happening?” she whispered, clutching her belly protectively. “Who are you?”

The Void took a step forward, the floor creaking with his weight. He tilted his head with an expression almost tender. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he said gently. “Alone. Carrying life inside of you. And for what? Struggling to stay afloat, with no one to catch you when you fall?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not alone anymore.”

“But you are” he pressed, taking another step. “You always have been. Your mother. Your father. That man who used you like a plaything. And where is your love now? The one who left you when you needed him most?”

Bob flinched beside her.

“Come to me,” the Void whispered, his voice like velvet, spreading through the room like smoke. “I will make you happy. I will give you peace. I will give your son a life no one else can. No pain. No fear.”

The room shifted. Metal groaned. Then everything exploded at once—shards of glass, twisted steel, broken furniture—all lifted violently by an unseen force and slammed the team against the walls like rag dolls. Bob was thrown back, shielding himself from the debris.

Y/N staggered forward.

“Y/N! NO!” Bob screamed, reaching out.

But she couldn’t hear him—not through the drumming in her ears, not through the pull in her chest. Something was calling her. And in her heart… a terrible ache. A fear. What if this was the only way?

She walked forward in a daze, her hand outstretched.

“Come to me,” the Void whispered, his voice shaking the air like thunder. “You’re mine. You’ve always been meant to be mine.”

Just as her fingertips neared the swirling darkness of his hand, Bobby’s grip caught her wrist and yanked her back. She stumbled into his arms as the Void snarled.

“She’s not yours!” Bob shouted, his voice hoarse with fury.

The Void’s face twisted into a smile. “And who are you to claim her? A failure? The man who left her alone in a world that chews her up? You are and will always be alone in this world. That's because no one cares about you. You don’t matter.”

Bob’s face went pale. Then rage exploded from his chest like a scream from his soul. He lunged forward and struck the Void with a crushing punch. Then another. And another.

“You don’t get to trick her!” Bob roared, his knuckles bleeding, the darkness seeping up his arms like ink.

“You don’t get to speak her name! You don't to lore her to you!”

But the Void didn’t fight back. He smiled, letting Bob hit him again and again, until the shadow began to wrap tighter around Bob’s body, crawling up his spine, whispering poison into his ears.

“Stop!” Y/N screamed, running to him. “Bobby, stop!”

Yelena was at her side in seconds. “This is what he wants, Bob! He’s feeding on you!”

“Bobby, look at me!” Y/N cried, grabbing his hand, tears pouring down her face. “Bobby—please! You have to stop, I need you to stop!”

Walker came running holding onto them, and so did Ava and Bucky. A reminder of how loneliness was no longer invinted.

His eyes flickered toward her. The rage wavered.

“Please,” she whispered. “Mr. Cooper left the crib unfinished. We need to go home. We need to finish it. Okay?”

His breath caught. His fists fell limp.

He looked at her—really looked—and it was like coming back to the surface after nearly drowning.

“You…” he choked. “You are… everything.”

There was a burst of light. A rush of wind. And then—

They were back.

The pavement beneath them was solid. Cold. Familiar. People around them were screaming, running, but the team… they were just there. Alive. In one piece.

Yelena coughed and looked up, confused. “What the hell just happened?Wait...Where's Y/N?”

Bob blinked slowly, his vision returning. “Thanks guys… what happened by the way?” He said smiling. The it hit him. "Yelena. How do you know that name?"

[unrequi]

It is indeed an ache, indeed was one of the words she used and we talked about her use of words and what it meant about her history, there was a shared history, her use of words felt familiar to me. She felt familiar to me yet she was a stranger. The feelings of recognition were confusing, because I didn't know what it was. Was it a crush, did I want to be her friend, was it some Queer middle ground. Any form of communication to her about it was strongly lacking and murky.

Every part of the Earth remembers her name, I see a field of grass and I think of her, I see something beautiful and I wonder what she might think of it, I watch a film and I wonder if she has watched it, I constantly strived to find what she enjoyed, and it was hard since she was experiencing burnout. I am biting down on my memory of her, and it is painful, it is blissful, I indulge in it yet I feel the pain knowing it is no more. My whole being wished I could have told her this, but we text no more. I have never felt this way, I have never been drawn so much to another person in this manner from the very first moment of conversing. When she laughed, it is like everything paused to listen, when she chuckled the hairs on my arm stood erect with joy and fascination. What does this marvelous human like, what gets her attention, what consumes her time besides everyday academics, yet I didn't know, I did not find out, and I will not find out. I will never make a home of her hands, of her nails that extend medium length, no color no decorations, a plain simplicity. I wondered if she ever painted her nails, is that something she is interested in. I know she wears make up from time to time, she once wondered if I knew the difference between different lip gloss shades, and I looked it up. She once put blush on her hand and showed it to me, marveling in how it blended in. I once walked in on her putting lip gloss on, and I thought to myself how fascinating. I am gladly ruined by my knowing of her, my knowing of her presence, my knowing of her stillness. While the presence will be no more, our interactions will never take the same shade again, I bathe in the splendor of my memories of her. May she be cherished by those she finds herself around, she deserves it to the highest standard. I don't know what to call this drawing towards her. It is a love that doesn't desire partnership, it is a love that doesn't desire commitment or a formal label, I simply desired to know, to find out, and to experience presence. I don't know what to name this Queer thing, all I know is how she made me feel, and that is the truth of the matter.

the lover’s almanac : part one.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

To Have As Much Compassion For the Coyote As the Rabbit

Spring is here, and all throughout my social media are posts by people panicking about coyotes. It’s not uncommon for these native canines to be more visible this time of year since they have dens full of hungry pups to feed and protect. You might see them on the hunt for mice and other rodents, or you could be quietly but firmly escorted away from a den site. There’s a chance you’ll even see a coyote toting a nice, fat rabbit home to her pups.

That last one tends to upset some folks. I’ve seen people say they’ve deliberately scared away predatory animals to cause them to drop their prey, or in some cases even physically wrestled the prey away. Sure, that may make you feel like some sort of hero for saving the rabbit. But why does the rabbit deserve to live while the coyote’s pups slowly starve to death? Why should a Cooper’s hawk not be allowed to eat the house finch it just plucked from a convenient bird feeder? Who says we are right to get in the way of a garter snake capturing a tree frog? And what if the rabbit you liberated has internal injuries that slowly kill it anyway once it runs away from you in fright?

Read under the cut to find out how many self-described "nature lovers" only really love part of nature.

Many of us have a Disneyfied approach to nature. We have a great deal of sympathy for herbivores* like Bambi and Thumper, and we give Flower the striped skunk a free pass since most of what he eats is insects. We might get annoyed when Bambi starts to browse on the vegetables and rose bushes, but we don’t react with the sort of wailing dismay that we do when a mountain lion takes out one of Bambi’s herd members.

And yet an American robin tugging earthworms out of the ground and swallowing them alive is no different from a bobcat pouncing on the robin. Both are examples of one animal preying upon another, a perfectly normal part of the cycles of nature for 800 million years. Without carnivores (and insectivores and omnivores), herbivores would quickly overpopulate, depleting plant communities to ecologically disastrous states, and crash life as we know it. Life is all about inhabiting niches, and carnivores fill their evolutionary roles quite effectively.

Many people who claim they “love nature” only love the herbivorous, gentle, fuzzy parts of it, and refuse to examine or change their revulsion of or violence toward the rest. That’s a big problem. The elements of nature they consider to be “ugly” or gross” are no less important than the “pretty” or “adorable” ones. And systematically removing the “bad” animals can have a detrimental effect on the entire ecosystem. The benighted person who kills every snake they see is only going to cause an increase in rodent populations, which of course raises the likelihood of diseases, crop damage, and gnawed electrical wires in the attic.

Moreover, when we try to apply the limitations of human ideals of morality to the rest of nature, we ignore the concept of existence value:��that all beings are important simply because they are here with us in this amazing, vibrant world we share. What are we implying when we say that the coyote pup is less deserving of life than the rabbit?

We have interfered with nature way too much as it is, in much larger ways than this. Yet it is a simple act to allow these individual interactions between species play out as they naturally would without feeling that we have to step in and play moral referee. Our arrogance at thinking that nature exists for us and our priorities is how we found ourselves in our current ecological predicament. The least we can do is be hands-off in our local food web. Consider it good practice for having healthier boundaries toward nature, rather than constantly centering ourselves in every decisions we make regarding other living beings.

Finally, practice having some compassion for the coyote busily trying to feed her young–and herself. She can’t run to the grocery store and get a package of industrially farmed beef to make burgers for the kids. Her entire life is a constant race against death, whether from starvation, disease, extreme heat or cold, and of course the interference of humans. Imagine the relief she must feel when she successfully manages to catch something bigger than a mouse–do you think we’re the only ones whose reward centers in our brains light up at a job well done? Think of how excited your dog gets when he manages to catch the ball–that’s not only a trait of domesticated animals.

Have some compassion for the coyote pups eagerly awaiting their next meal and their parents' warmth. Photo by John Harrison, CCA-SA-3.0-Unported

Give and take, life and death, nutrients and energy endlessly cycling through body after body after body of animal, plant, fungus, bacteria–that is the grand dance in which the coyote and the rabbit play their parts. Appreciate this eons-old round without feeling the need to alter the tempo, and be glad that tonight the coyote pups will sleep contentedly with full stomachs.

*For the record, many “herbivores” will opportunistically eat meat, live or dead, for the nutrients. Bambi and his buddies are quite happy to pluck a perfectly healthy baby bird or two out of a nest as a snack, and will chew on carrion now and then, too.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider preordering my book The Everyday Naturalist, taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, or checking out my other articles! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[piratefalls]

saw fun ideas floating around of a buck/athena roommate era and it got me thinking

thinking about the first morning after buck moves in the last of his belongings. of athena waking up and smelling coffee brewing downstairs, listening to soft humming and sizzling bacon, basking in the sunlight shining through the window, trying not to think about who's not responsible for the sounds and smells coming from her kitchen.

thinking about athena finally pulling herself away from her bed, walking downstairs to find buck's back to her. telling herself that if she squints a little, tilts her head just right, that it's almost like bobby is there in his uniform fresh off a shift. that instead of lying down and resting he's making sunday breakfast like he used to when all four of them were still under the same roof. 

thinking about her shaking off the memories, reminding herself that it’s not sunday. that she doesn’t have to call the kids down to eat, doesn’t get to walk up to the man stood at her kitchen counter and wrap her arms around him, lean her weight into the strong body in front of her and find comfort. won't get to hear the way morning, baby pours from his smile, sweet like honey. the fact that bobby will never get to cook here in the kitchen he dreamed about for months. all of it sits like lead in her stomach.

thinking about buck turning around and smiling at her. it doesn’t fully reach his eyes, but they're not nearly as empty, his smile less brittle than it had been in the weeks immediately following bobby’s death. it doesn’t always feel like it but she's been getting better, too. they haven't talked about it, but it helps to be near someone who has a similar bobby shaped hole in their life. he gestures for her to take a seat at the counter and pushes a cup of coffee toward her, followed by cream and sugar.

“wasn’t sure how you took it. figured it would be a bad start to assume.”

thinking about athena nodding in thanks, shooting him a small smile as she sits down. that he turns back to dish out food and she notices that there’s far too much for just the two of them, huffing fondly because it’s such a bobby thing to do. she watches him portion out eggs and sees so much of her husband’s influence: the laser focus, the pride on his face when something turns out exactly the way it was supposed to, the joy of sharing it with others, it's all so bobby that it makes her heart ache.

that watching buck in this kitchen is another reminder that they'd loved him differently than the others, she and buck. the 118 had lost its captain, its members a dear friend, mentor, and loved one; but bobby was - had been, would always be - her husband, her person, her forever. with buck, bobby had filled a paternal role in his life that had been less gaping hole and more infected wound. bobby had helped heal so much in both of them, and now here they are, healing after him.

thinking about buck putting a plate of bacon, pancakes, and eggs in front of her. of athena reaching for the syrup and an old memory flashing before her, an offhand comment maddie had made in their ride-along what feels like a lifetime ago: that buck had made her eggs with shallots, but hadn't made her anything else because bobby’s lessons hadn’t yet gone beyond breakfast. that with a shaky smile, she tells him thank you. that he nods and, after a quiet moment, picks up his fork.

that bathed in warm sunlight, looking out at a yard that’s both old and new, they eat breakfast, and they miss him together.

[waywardangel-wilds]

Using this post to see if I can answer all these questions about my main character:

1. Name: Larkspur (so far lol). Age: 22. Gender: Female. Birth date: sometime in the summer.

Appearance: Medium height. Dark curly hair, brown skin. Disarming smile (this is a trap).

Backstory / trauma : she was born after the fall of society and has never known anything outside of the “after” - the world after the end of capitalism and climate catastrophe. Both her parents are dead and were dead when she was a baby so she’s never met them. She was raised in an orphanage. She’s never had enough but she’ll come to realize she had it good compared to others because her community was strong and close knit. She’s always felt displaced - a girl without a home, without a family. This makes her scared of being abandoned and her triggers happy reactions are all motivated by a desire to never feel left behind.

Goal: to leave her town and make it to the big market in the village. Real goal -> to get there and set up some sort of con so she’s never poor again.

Make her suffer -> she will be tormented by seeing what it really means to take from others and to harm and deceive. She won’t like it. She’ll also find herself taking part in an ever increasingly problematic organization that will make her realize that the world is so much bigger and so much more capable of cruelty than she even understood.

Relationships / who does she love -> she comes to realize that she has a family - she always did - and it has grown larger. She’ll realize that family can be chosen and it can always grow. She’ll fall in love with someone just as broken as she and she will come to see that even people like them are worthy of all the good things in life.

Give them a voice -> she is charming and a great narrator. She’s a great liar. But it’s all a performance really. She’s very vulnerable and not fully formed really as an individual. She’s unsure. There’s a soft core to her.

Make them grow -> Lark starts off selfish and somewhat immature. She blames everything she thinks is wrong with herself on the world and tries to take it out on others. She’s wrong frequently. She needs to hit her face against the metaphorical floor to realize things are more nuanced.

Glass -> she can be selfish AND self destructive. She’s afraid of being happy, thinks she doesn’t deserve it even though she wants it with all her heart. She’s the type to self-sabotage.

Anyway I think that’s all I can answer!

How to Write a Character

↠ Start with the basics, because obviously. Name. Age. Gender. Maybe even a birthday if you’re feeling fancy. This is step one because, well, your character needs to exist before they can be interesting. But nobody cares if they’re 27 or 37 unless it actually matters to the story.

↠ Looks aren’t everything… but also, describe them. Yes, we know their soul is more important than their hair color, but readers still need something to visualize. Do they have the kind of face that makes babies cry? Do they always look like they just rolled out of bed? Give us details, not just “tall with brown hair.

↠ Personality isn’t just “kind but tough.” For the love of storytelling, give them more than two adjectives. Are they kind, or do they just pretend to be because they hate confrontation? Are they actually tough, or are they just too emotionally repressed to cry in public? Dig deeper.

↠ Backstory = Trauma (usually). Something shaped them. Maybe it was a messy divorce, maybe they were the middle child and never got enough attention, or maybe they once got humiliated in a spelling bee and never recovered. Whatever it is, make it matter to who they are today.

↠ Give them a goal. Preferably a messy one. If your character’s only motivation is to “be happy” or “do their best,” they’re boring. They need a real goal, one that conflicts with who they are, what they believe in, or what they think they deserve. Bonus points if it wrecks them emotionally.

↠ Make them suffer. Yes, I said it. A smooth, easy journey is not a story. Give them obstacles. Rip things away from them. Make them work for what they want. Nobody wants to read about a character who just gets everything handed to them (unless it’s satire, then carry on).

↠ Relationships = Depth. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who annoys the hell out of them? Who do they have that messy, can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you tension with? People shape us. So, shape your character through the people in their life.

↠ Give them a voice that actually sounds like them. If all your characters talk the same, you’ve got a problem. Some people ramble, some overthink, some are blunt to the point of being offensive. Let their voice show who they are. You should be able to tell who’s talking without dialogue tags.

↠ If they don’t grow, what’s the point? People change. They learn things, make mistakes, get their hearts broken, and (hopefully) become a little wiser. If your character starts and ends the story as the same exact person, you just wasted everyone’s time.

↠ Flaws. Give. Them. Flaws. Nobody likes a perfect character. Give them something to struggle with, maybe they’re selfish, maybe they push people away, maybe they’re addicted to the thrill of self-destruction (fun!). Make them real. Make them human.

↠ Relatability is key. Your character doesn’t have to be likable, but they do have to be understandable. Readers need to get them, even if they don’t agree with them. If your character never struggles, never doubts, and never screws up, I have bad news: they’re not a character, they’re a mannequin.

↠ You’re never actually done. Characters evolve, not just in the story, but as you write them. If something feels off, fix it. If they feel flat, dig deeper. Keep refining, rewriting, and letting them surprise you. That’s how you create someone who feels real.

Now go forth and write characters that actually make people feel something. And if you need a reminder, just ask yourself: Would I care if this person existed in real life? If the answer is meh, start over.

[lightlybloomed]

The Ones Who Knew (J.B)

A quiet breakup. A quiet return. Follow Joe Burrow and his private longtime love as they part, grow, and find their way back—gently, and for good.

thank you to anon for the request :)

The media moved on quickly. A few trending tweets, a couple of fan edits, then silence—replaced by trade rumours, spring camps, and pre-season hype. But the people who really knew them didn’t forget so easily.

His mom stopped setting two mugs out in the morning.

It was automatic for months—one for Joe, one for the girl who always curled up quietly at the kitchen island with her tea, always remembered to compliment her baking. She was the kind of girl who helped clean up even when told not to. The kind of girl who folded throw blankets after movie nights and remembered birthdays no one else did.

Now it’s just one mug. And a silence no one talks about.

His teammates noticed the shift too. Joe’s always been reserved, but there’s something different now. Less tension, more stillness. He shows up, he does the work—but there’s a softness missing. Like whatever light used to follow him out of the locker room doesn’t anymore.

Ja’Marr said it best—quietly, to no one in particular: “She made him human. Softer. Balanced.”

Nobody replied. They didn’t have to.

And her friends? They’ve circled around her like a constellation. Protective. Gentle. She’s not the type to talk about her pain openly, but it shows in the little things—how she no longer brings up Cincinnati, how her playlists are full of sad piano tracks now, how she keeps her phone on Do Not Disturb a little more often.

One of them said, “It’s weird… she’s not heartbroken. She’s just… grieving. Like something ended inside her, and she’s still figuring out what’s left.”

They don’t hate Joe. How could they? He loved her well. But they ache for her. For all the parts of herself she muted just to fit into his life. For all the moments she dimmed her light so he could shine. For how much she gave, and how quietly she walked away.

Love doesn’t always end with betrayal or bitterness. Sometimes, it ends with two good people realising they can’t keep asking the other to bend.

And everyone close to them knows—it wasn’t a collapse. It was a release.

They were good together.

But now, they have to learn how to be good apart.

—

It’s been seven months.

Long enough for them both to grow. To miss each other the right way. Long enough to realise that what they had wasn’t just a phase or a comfort—it was the real thing. The kind of love that doesn’t vanish just because it goes quiet for a while.

For a time, it seemed like they were done. No drama. No bitterness. Just a clean, mutual ending that hurt more than either of them admitted. Their families didn’t ask questions—they respected the silence, the space. But behind closed doors, there was a shared, gentle hope: maybe they’ll find their way back.

And they did.

Not in some grand, movie-ending kind of way. There were no public reunions or tearful airport scenes. Just a slow series of moments. A message on her birthday. A shared memory that made them both laugh at the same time. A coffee left on his porch—just the way he likes it.

And when they finally saw each other again, really saw each other, it wasn’t dramatic. It was easy. Familiar. Like coming home.

Now, their love looks different. Softer. More honest. There are boundaries now, and better communication. She’s still quiet, still reserved, but she doesn’t feel like she has to disappear to make space for him anymore. And Joe? He’s learned how to meet her where she is—how to love her in the way she needs, not just the way he knows how.

His parents were the first to notice. The second she walked through the door again—shy, a little nervous, holding that same tea she used to drink—his mom hugged her like nothing had changed. Like she’d only stepped out of the room for a moment, not months.

“She looks lighter,” his dad whispered that night. “So does he.”

Her friends see it too. The way she doesn’t flinch at the idea of love anymore. The way her laugh sounds full again. She still takes her time with the world, still keeps most things close to her chest—but now, she doesn’t shut it out. She’s letting herself be known, little by little.

They don’t post much. That hasn’t changed. But every now and then, a photo slips through: her feet on the dashboard during a long drive. His hand resting lightly on her back at a fundraiser. A blurry shot of the two of them slow-dancing in the kitchen, the dog asleep at their feet.

It’s quiet, still.

But it’s theirs.

Their families smile a little wider these days. Not because everything is perfect—but because they know what it took to get here. The work. The patience. The choosing.

[itzpookiepooh]

Hiii I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could make the lads (Love and Deepspace) boy going to the reader or mc's house and when entering her room they find some clearly masculine piece of clothing (like boxers or something like that) and they start to think too much about it like she's bringing another man home or some other jealous thoughts only to discover in the end that it was from the reader or mc's herself

That’s Mine!

Rafayel nearly fell out when he came over and saw the boxers on the floor. Were you cheating on him? Was he not enough? Did he have to kill whoever it was? His mind was running rampant with thoughts of you with another man. He bursts into the bathroom where you were showering and opened the shower door.

“Whose are these!?” He shouts holding the boxers on one finger. You were lathered in soap confused and a bit scared from the abrupt actions.

“What?” You analyze the cloth and sigh, “those are mine! Panties aren’t always breathable you know?”

Rafayel sighs in relief as he leans on the shower door. He explains his thoughts to you making you shake your head at your dramatic boyfriend. He kisses your soapy cheek apologizing for his rude outburst.

Caleb was doing laundry when he saw them. The boxers sitting at the bottom of the washing machine. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He never saw you in boxers. EVER. He wanted to ask you but he didn’t want to cause a scene. Is what he would’ve thought if he didn’t think someone else was leaving their dirty clothes in your room!

“Alright I know Zayne has more home training than leaving his clothes here unclean.” He announced swinging the underwear from the basket. The way he burst into the bathroom nearly gives you a heart attack.

You look side to side before your gaze falls on him. What is he talking about? You just stare at him as he pulls out boxers making you become flustered. Swinging your underwear around was the last thing you expected from Caleb.

“Caleb.” You stated firmly, “Those are mine.” He becomes flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, pipsqueak. I got jealous is all.” He explains as he rubs the back of his neck. You make a face at him before submerging into the bubbles in the bathroom again. You accept his apology making his features soften.

“Now that that’s over.” He says mostly to himself, he basically disappears out of his clothes. Your eyes go wide before you lift your hands up waving them.

“Caleb wait!” You interrupt, “Too late!” He cheerfully exclaimed as he hops in the tub. You groan as he clings to you.

“You’re sitting on my legs.” You inform him making him hop up and hurdle apologies at you.

Zayne knew you had a pretty chaotic wardrobe. There was no simple aesthetic to it. You got whatever you liked. Today however he was confused to find an oversized shirt in the laundry he was folding. It wasn’t his that he was certain of. He did remember you saying that you stayed with a friend until the rain died down the other day though. He folded it and put it to the side before going to find you in the gaming room.

“Is this a colleagues? I’ve never seen you wear it so I’m making sure to put it where it goes.” He asks you, showing you the shirt in question. You know that flicker in his eyes.

“It’s mine. I needed looser clothes because I was uncomfortable during my cycle last week.” You put it to him simply. He hums at your answer before folding it and walking into your shared bedroom to put it away.

Xavier got pouty when he saw the pajama pants. He knew you would NEVER but he couldn’t help the jealousy he felt from you borrowing others clothes. He was right here with a full wardrobe for you to choose from. He asked you about it which made you giggle at his jealousy.

“I like Spider-Man and they don’t really make it for me so I went to the men’s section and got the pants!” You explain to him with a bright smile. He sighed before hugging you.

“I have a whole wardrobe for you to pick clothes from.” He mumbles into your neck. You laugh at the way his breath tickles your neck.

“But none of them are Spider-Man are they?” You tease as he groans in embarrassment. You laugh at him and caress his hair. Your poor jealous baby.

Sylus stared at the cargo pants in confusion. They weren’t technically yours in his eyes since the size was in men’s. He immediately assumed they may be Luke or Kieran’s and got mixed in with your things. When he calls them into his office to tell them they were so confused.

“Those aren’t ours boss.” Luke says crossing his arms. Kieran nods mimicking his twin.

“Yeah. We don’t own a pair.” Kieran adds as Luke nods in confirmation. You just so happened to walk by and widen your eyes at what Sylus was holding. You rush in and grab them.

“They’re mine! Stop flaunting my clothes.” The twins snicker to one another making you glare in their direction.

“Men’s pants?” Sylus teases with his usual smirk. You huff and cross your arms.

“They fit better and went with my outfit.” You stick your tongue out at him, leaving the room. Not before plucking the twins for their excessive laughter. It was now Sylus’ turn to laugh.

[alotofpockets]

Target practice | Vivianne Miedema x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Is it broken?"

Warnings: broken nose, blood

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

When you walk through the door of your apartment, you find your girlfriend sitting on the floor. She leaned against the couch with her laptop on the coffee table. A match playing on her screen, but it sounds like she is replaying a certain moment in the match by the repetitive commentary. 

You take off your shoes, drop your back to the ground, and walk towards the couch. “Hi love.” You say as you sit down behind her and kiss the top of her head. “What are you watching?”

Viv takes a deep sigh, “The game from yesterday. I had too many off target shots, so I’ve been rewatching them.” You knew this process, she had done it over and over again. Not just for mistakes or things she wasn’t happy with, but also for good goals and moments in play. “Is it helping?” You ask gently, hearing the light frustration in her voice.

“Nope, I’m just frustrating myself. I want to do some target practice, but without someone in goal it won’t be as effective.” She closed the laptop with a sigh. You never liked seeing your girlfriend this way. She’s an incredible footballer, and a missed shot shouldn’t be something on her mind amongst all the amazing goals that she does score. You would do anything to not make her feel like this.

“I’m no goalkeeper, but I could stand in goal if you think that would help.” You offer. Viv looks at you like you’re crazy, but she sees nothing but sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” You smile and nod your head, “Yeah, of course. After dinner?” 

And that is exactly what you did. Once dinner was all cleaned up, you both went to your room to get changed. Viv grabbed one of her City training kits, while your eyes lingered on her old Arsenal one. “Would it be too soon to suggest Man City vs Arsenal?” She followed your gaze and smiled to herself. “You can wear it.” She loved when you wore her clothes, so this was no exception. 

Along with borrowing a training kit from your girlfriend, you also wore a pair of her boots. Wearing the same shoe size was always so easy, you could always use one of the hundreds of pairs Viv had laying around.

You walked to the pitch together hand in hand, just chatting and enjoying the nice weather. While football was far from your thing, you loved being able to spend the time with her. 

Once on the pitch you thought it would be a great idea to warm up alongside her, but you quickly realised that as soon as she started her running drills, that you were not a professional footballer, and definitely did not have the same condition of one. So, you opted to watch her with your back leaned against the goalpost for the rest of her warm ups.

You watched with a smile plastered on your face. She looked entirely in her element, even if it was just a simple warm up. When she ran her last drill, she walked up to the goal. “Are you still sure you want to do this?” She asked with a little worry in her voice. You nod, “Yup, I will be the best non-goalie goalie ever.” Viv chuckled, “Alright, let’s go then.”

Viv started shooting while you were moving around in the goal, left to right, jumping around, you were honestly having a lot of fun with just being the most annoying goalkeeper you could be. 

At first you thought your girlfriend was just starting off slow to get into it, but when she kept it going, you started to realise what she was doing. “You can stop holding back, love. I’m not scared of the ball, so just shoot it like you normally would.”

She stayed a bit weary at first, but slowly started building up the power she was putting behind her shots now. One of her harder shots soared past you and went right into the top corner. “Top bins! That’s more like it.” You say proudly.

Viv’s confidence grew more and more with each shot that she took. Clearly noticing you were handling the fast balls flying around you just fine. 

“Is it helping?” You asked her as you went to collect the balls together. “Yeah, a lot actually." Thank you so much for doing this for me.” You smile and lean in to peck her lips, “Of course, anything for you.”

Another few shots hit the back of the net perfectly. Viv was starting to enjoy it more and more. Of course this still wasn’t the same as game play, but hitting ball after ball on target was doing her a lot of good.

Viv lined up her next shot, she looked up at you with a smile. Your moves were ridiculous, but she loved that you were doing the most for you, and she was enjoying every moment of your attempt to distract her from the goal.

She kicks the next ball. It came flying towards the goal with full power, so fast that you didn’t realise it was coming straight to you until it was too late. The ball hits your square in the face, and you fall back instantly. “Shit.” Viv says instantly. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” She rushed to your side, her eyes widening as she saw the blood gushing from your nose. Your hand reaches up to touch your nose, and you instantly flinch at the pain. Then you look at your hand, which was covered in blood. 

You look up to your girlfriend with worried eyes. “Is it broken?" Viv helps you sit up, and properly looks at your nose. “Well, I’m no doctor, but it’s definitely not straight anymore.” 

By now the adrenaline rush started to come down, and you were starting to feel the pain a lot more. Viv who noticed you getting more uncomfortable helped you up fully. “Come on, let’s get an ice pack at home and then head to urgent care.”

On the walk back home, Viv couldn’t stop apologising. She kept going until to the point you had to stop her. “Viv, I love you but you have to stop. It happened, and it’s fine. It will heal and my nose will go back to looking normal in no time.”

“I know it will, but I should have never asked you to be in goal.” You shake your head. “You didn’t ask, I offered.” She rolled her eyes, “Fine, then I shouldn’t have let you. It’s my fault, and I am really sorry.”

Your nose was indeed broken, and they had to set it. Back home Viv, who still felt very bad, took great care of you. She acted a little as if you couldn’t do anything anymore, but who were you to deny your girlfriend from doing all these kinds for you for a little while?

-----

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[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Tis not the prompt, but also not not the prompt. It gets there (sort of) by the end :)

…

The pastry was a work of art, delicate custard in a gold swirling crust and adorned with flowers made of fruit slices and colored sugars. Theo was almost afraid to eat it for fear it wouldn’t taste nearly as good as it looked. He observed it from every angle before taking a small bite.

He melted. It was the most glorious thing he’d ever had. He closed his eyes and savored each subsequent bite until all that was left were crumbs. He had to check himself before he licked the plate.

“Need a box?”

Theo jumped and remembered he was in a public bakery. He glanced up to find the baker’s daughter grinning at him, a serving tray propped against her hip.

“I think I might,” he said, passing her his empty plate. “Wouldn’t want any of this to go to waste.”

The next time he visited, the baker’s daughter was behind the counter arranging cakes in the glass display case. She smiled at his arrival.

“Welcome back! What can I get for you?”

Theo thought a moment and said, “Surprise me.”

He sat at the same table as the first time and tried to draw the pastries, the bakery, the baker’s daughter. The simple lines couldn’t capture the magic of the place. Theo wasn’t sure he’d be able to describe it if asked. He just knew the week had dragged on forever as he waited to return.

“Is that me?” The baker’s daughter arrived with a covered dish.

Theo blushed and resisted the urge to cover the drawing. He nodded.

She touched her hair as if the drawing were the first time she’d ever seen herself. “It’s nice.”

“Thank you …”

“Piper.” She smiled. She was always smiling.

“Thank you, Piper.”

Almost as an afterthought, Piper handed him the plate, uncovered to reveal a trio of brightly colored truffles arranged in a shallow bowl. A few minutes later, she returned to replace Theo’s empty bowl with a box wrapped in grey ribbon. She said, “A surprise for later.”

At home, Theo went straight to his room, carefully avoiding his family and the staff. He wasn’t sneaking. He just didn’t want to answer questions. He didn’t get a chance to open his gift before a knock interrupted him. Fern, Theo’s favorite staff member, stuck her head in then closed the door behind her.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, “but your parents are looking for you.”

“Weather?”

“Clear. For now.”

Theo smoothed his shirt and nodded. “Okay. Ready.”

He followed Fern and wondered what his parents wanted. When both of them called a meeting together, it was hardly ever a good thing. He was taken aback when he found them smiling at him.

Fern patted his back and deftly exited before she could be drawn into the conversation.

“My darling,” Mother said, “you know your father and I love you.”

That was not an encouraging start.

“And we want you to take your time to grow into yourself,” Father added.

Mother took Theo’s hand. “We don’t want to pressure you –”

“– but we’re not getting any younger –”

“– and we want to make sure you’re settled –”

“– in case anything happens to us.”

Theo stared, uncomprehending.

Father must have sensed his confusion. “Marriage, son. We’re talking about marriage.”

Theo balked. “Surely there are other measures of security that aren’t marriage.”

“We’ve already arranged a few dates for you,” Mother said as if Theo hadn’t spoken.

“Oh my go–”

“It’ll be fun,” Father said.

“Fun.” Theo extracted his hand from his mother’s and slowly backed away. “Please excuse me while I process this for the next two to eighty business days.”

He managed to close the door behind him before breaking into a run.

…

“Is that for your crush? Mr. Dreamy McDreamboat?” Rosie asked from the sink.

“Never say that again,” Piper groaned. “He’s not my crush.” She finished sprinkling a layer of sparkling sugar over her latest creation.

“But it is for him, right?”

“No.”

Rosie smirked, relentless.

“Fine, yes.” Piper sealed the box with more force than strictly necessary and placed it in the cooler in anticipation for her definitely-not-a-crush’s visit.

He’d quickly become a favored regular. Piper looked forward to surprising him with new desserts that he drew and studied like they were the greatest things he’d ever seen.

“Ooh! Here he comes!” Rosie’s voice rang through the kitchen. “Better fix your face before you scare him away with all the drool.”

Piper waved dismissively in Rosie’s direction. “Hi, Theo.”

Theo took a few seconds to find her then broke into a smile. Piper enjoyed making him smile, though she would never admit it to Rosie.

“Hi, Piper,” Theo greeted as he browsed.

Piper enjoyed watching him choose from her creations. She enjoyed his greeting and his conversations and fine. She had a crush. But Rosie didn’t need to know.

She waited until Rosie finished her shift and went home before making her way to Theo’s table with the box she’d prepared. She gripped it tightly, trying to calm the sudden bout of nerves.

Theo looked up at her approach. His sketchbook sat open to a colorful drawing of the display case, cakes popping brightly fading to half finished breads and Piper in the background kneading dough.

Piper nearly tripped over her own foot. She stood near the table, once ordered plan a jumbled mess in her head.

Theo noticed, his easy grin quieting into concern as he asked, “Everything alright?”

She thrust the box toward him with both hands and said in a rush, “Will you go out with me?”

His face went through a whole run of emotions.

Piper’s face burned. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes. Obviously. I just … sorry.” She pulled the box back towards her body.

Theo stopped her, gently taking the box. “I’d love to.”

“Really?” Piper smiled tentatively.

“Really.” Theo smiled back in near full radiance, but Piper couldn’t help noticing his eyes seemed sad.

…

“Are you okay?”

Theo looked up from the blank page he’d been staring at for the last ten minutes. Piper watched him quizzically.

“I’m okay,” Theo said, but he had trouble working up the smile he knew she expected. They’d been on several dates since she’d first asked him. Dinners, movies, bowling. Completely normal activities for completely normal people. Theo went home feeling like a fraud. He didn’t want to ruin anything with responsibility. His parents didn’t know about Piper yet. Their deadline loomed over him, making every date with Piper feel like an ending. He had to tell them.

He had to tell her.

“Something’s wrong,” Piper said now. “You’ve been staring at nothing for a long time. And you haven’t eaten your dessert.” She plopped down in the seat opposite him.

Theo studied the pastry to avoid eye contact. He tapped his pencil in an uneven rhythm on the table, his knee bouncing at a separate beat.

Piper’s friend watched them with no attempts at subtlety from behind the counter.

“Theo. Are you in trouble?”

“Yes. No. I …” Theo shook his head. Piper’s concern made his guilt burrow deeper.

“Do you … are we breaking up?”

He should. He should let her go, but selfishly, he didn’t want her to leave.

“No, no.” He offered a smile that felt like a grimace and bit into the latest work of art Piper created for him. He let the flavors melt slowly, slowly, stalling, before saying softly, “I think you’re the one.”

…

“Piper, I think you’re the one.” Theo’s expression seemed more sad than ‘in love’ as he held the remains of his dessert.

Piper tried to piece together his scarce clues and ended up more confused that she was at the start.

He whispered, “She’s the one,” as if trying to convince himself of his own feelings.

Piper’s confusion spiked with fear when several people in dark suits surrounded the table. Theo wouldn’t meet her eye.

“What’s going on?” Rosie came out of the back room, approaching their table.

The suits tightened their circle, otherwise ignoring Rosie’s advance.

“Pip, are you alright?”

“You’ve been chosen,” said a stern looking woman to Piper’s left, “by the Crown Prince Theodore Archibald Prescott –”

“Crown Prince?” Piper blanched.

Rosie froze, wide eyed, just outside the circle.

“– to be married by the month’s end,” the woman finished.

“Married!” Piper protested as another suit pulled her out of her seat by her arm. “Theo –”

Theo said nothing. He stared at the floor and didn’t get up until the suits had dragged Piper to their vehicle. One suit stayed behind to keep Rosie from following.

“Don’t hurt her,” Piper called out as she was shoved into the dark interior of the car.

“We don’t have any reason to if you cooperate,” the stern woman said without looking back. “She’ll be left alone as soon as we make the palace.”

The palace.

Piper stilled as the situation caught up to her fully.

Theo climbed into the car and sat opposite Piper and the suit. He glanced at Piper once before fixing his gaze on his shoes.

Piper glared at him for the whole ride.

It was announced the prince was looking for a wife, but the baker girl didn’t care. That was until the very tired and sad-looking boy wearing a hoodie and sweatpants bit into a cherry tart, looked as if he was about to weep, and whispered: "She’s the one." Then a bunch of officials entered.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 15/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : angst, Lando is sad (yes it's a warning)

CHAPTER 15 :

Serie Masterlist

The villa was too quiet. 

The kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful but tense, sharp-edged, and waiting to explode. 

No one laughed today. No one joked. No soft teasing over breakfast. No sunbathing by the pool. The warmth of Brazil felt foreign now. Wrong. Like it belonged to someone else's story. 

Ariana had locked herself in her room since their fight. 

Lando hadn’t said a word to anyone. 

Not a joke. Not a glance. Not even a sigh. 

Max tried twice to get through to him: once with food, once with sarcasm. Neither worked. Charles suggested they go surfing. Lando didn’t answer. Carlos tried to break the tension by calling him “Romeo, version parano”, but even that landed flat. 

Everyone knew. 

Something had happened. 

Something big. 

Kika stood outside Ariana’s door at least three times, knocking gently. 

“Babe, just tell me if you’re okay.” 

Silence. 

Pietra eventually snapped. “They need to talk.” 

“Not our job to force it,” Max muttered. 

“No,” Kika said, eyes hard, “but it’s our job to stop them from breaking something real.” 

By the time sunset rolled across the sky like fire, the tension in the house had become unbearable. And Kika had enough. 

Lando was pacing in the living room. Ariana hadn’t emerged all day. 

So Kika did what no one else dared. 

She marched upstairs. Knocked on Ariana’s door. “Put on something. Five minutes. You’re talking to him.” 

Then she went straight to Lando, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him like a furious little storm cloud through the house. 

Pierre tried to interfere. She silenced him with a glare. 

“Get. In.” 

She shoved them into the smallest guest room, snapped the door shut behind them, and locked it. 

From the other side: “You’re not getting out until you talk. So fix it. Or burn it down. But decide.” 

Footsteps faded. 

Silence fell. 

Ariana stood near the bed, arms crossed. Lando by the door, fists clenched. 

The space between them felt oceans wide. 

Neither moved. 

Her voice came first, quiet but sharp. “We just have to pretend we’re fine. Then Kika will let us out. I’ll go back to my room, pack my things, and leave first thing tomorrow.” 

His jaw clenched. “Back to Paris.” 

She nodded. “Obviously.” 

“Back to your dear dancer,” he snapped. 

She froze. 

“What?” Her voice was hollow. 

Lando laughed, humorless and mean. “Isn’t that what this is? You come here, say all the right things, play with me for a week, and then go back to the guy you never stopped seeing.” 

She stared at him. 

He kept going, voice getting louder, sharper. “He’s the one, right? The one from the photos. The one you said was nothing. You still with him, aren’t you? Just couldn’t resist the thrill of sneaking around?” 

Her voice cracked. “Lando—” 

He cut her off. “Was I just a fun distraction?” 

Silence. 

Her tears welled instantly, blurring her vision. 

She took a shaky step forward. “Do you really think… I’m cheating on my ‘boyfriend’ to be with you?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Do you really think,” she whispered, voice shaking, “that I would say all of that, do all of that, travel across the world to be here with you… if I was still with someone else?” 

Still silence. 

Lando stared at the floor, chest heaving. 

She let out a breathless, hurt laugh. “You don’t even see me.” 

“You never said anything,” he muttered. “You never explained. You refused to talk about him. I had to find out online.” 

“So that’s your excuse?” she shouted suddenly. “You believe Twitter over me?” 

He flinched. 

She stepped closer, voice rising. “You think gossip blogs and blurry pictures know me better than you do? Since when do you care about that kind of bullshit?” 

He stayed silent. 

And in that silence, something in her broke. 

“You want the truth?” she said, voice trembling, “here’s the truth.” 

She took a deep breath like she was pulling a blade from her own ribs. 

“I dated him, yes. His name is Marc. He was my partner for three years. We were together the whole time. I thought he was the love of my life.” 

Lando blinked, stunned. 

She kept going. 

“But he lied, hurt me, change me in a way I hated. Turns out he was cheating on me with half the damn company. Sleeping with students. Assistants. Anyone who smiled at him.” 

Her voice cracked fully now. “I found out. I left him. That was a year ago. That’s how old those photos are. And no, I’m not still with him. I fucking hate him.” 

Lando’s breath hitched. “Ari—” 

She shook her head. “No. You wanted the truth, so just listen.” 

His mouth snapped closed. 

“I still have to dance with him. Still have to see him. Smile. Be civil. Pretend everything is fine because it’s my job. Because it’s the fucking Royal Ballet and I can’t let heartbreak cost me everything I’ve worked for since I was a kid.” 

She wiped a tear off her cheek, furious with herself for crying. 

“And this fucking jerk is still around me, remembering me of how much an idiot I was for falling for him, to believe all his lies and manipulation. He still posts about me or hugs me after a show like I am still his and it’s killing me. But I can’t say a thing because he is the fucking lead dancer, he had power and connection, so I had to work with him and pretend I get along, until the day my contract end and I will return to Paris, until now.” 

Lando didn’t say a thing, he just looks at the ground, his heart fill with guilt and shame. 

“So yeah. I lied that night at the Opera in London. I told you he was just a friend because back then, you were a stranger, Lando. A stranger I met at a Christmas party. And I didn’t owe you anything.” 

He stood frozen, every muscle in his body aching. 

“But now you know. Now you’ve ripped it out of me. Congratulations.” 

Her voice dropped. 

“Do you know what hurts the most?” 

He lifted his gaze. 

“I told myself I would never trust another man again. Never fall for someone. Never let anyone in after him. And then I met you.” 

His throat burned. 

“I fell for you. I loved you,” she whispered. “I know I should've explain it to you but Lando I was scared, and it's a part of my life I prefer to forget, to not talk about. You could've understand it, be patient, be kind, but no the moment it got hard, the second you felt doubt… you turned on me. You threw everything I gave you in my face and treated me like the villain."

She tried to breathe, to find words through the mess clawing at her throat. 

"I never asked you about your past," she whispered, voice cracking with hurt. "Because it didn’t matter to me. Because I trusted you." 

He was crying now, silent, hot tears that slid down his face like punishment. 

"After everything I've been through..." she pressed on, voice breaking, "after everything, I still chose to trust you." Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to look away. "I saw the pictures too, Lando. I'm not blind. The girls at the clubs. The rumors about you. About the way you used to be." 

His mouth parted, chest shifting with a sharp inhale. 

"Ariana, I—" 

She shook her head sharply, cutting him off before the words could leave his mouth. 

"Don't," she whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. "Don't you dare try to explain now." 

He stepped forward instinctively, reaching for her, but she stumbled back, out of reach. 

"I ignored all of it," she said, voice trembling. "Because I knew you. Because I believed the Lando I fell for was different." 

He flinched at that, visibly. 

And then she added, softer, broken, like it was costing her everything, "But maybe I was wrong." 

The silence that followed was suffocating. 

Lando stood there, hand half-lifted like he didn’t know whether to reach for her or let her go. 

She turned to the door. 

“Kika!” Her voice was sharp. “Open the door.” 

Seconds passed. Then a quiet click. 

The door swung open. 

Kika stood there, silent. 

Ariana didn’t look at Lando again. 

She walked out. 

Up the stairs. 

Straight to her room. 

And the sound of her suitcase unzipping was the final note in the symphony of everything falling apart. 

The house was still dark when she left. 

6:04 a.m. 

No sunrise yet. Just a dim grey light casting long shadows across the marble floors of the villa, painting everything in the dull palette of goodbyes. Just her suitcase in hand, hair pulled back, eyes heavy but dry, the tears had already come in the quiet of the night. 

Ariana descended the stairs like a ghost. 

Kika stood first, wrapping her in a long, warm hug, whispering things into her ear that Ariana would later forget the words of, but not the warmth. Pierre kissed the side of her head gently and said nothing. Alexandra gave her a sad smile and Charles a long squeeze of her hand. Max, still in his hoodie and socks, looked heartbroken. 

“Are you sure?” he whispered. 

Ariana nodded. 

Pietra was crying in Rebecca arms while Carlos had no words. 

Lando stood in the doorway. 

He hadn't slept. Hadn’t eaten. His hoodie was stained with salt from silent tears dried and cried again. 

Ariana didn’t look at him. 

Didn’t say a word. 

Not goodbye. Not even a fuck you. 

Just silence. 

The kind that broke bones. 

And then she was gone. Out the door. Into the waiting car. Into a plane. Out of his world. 

Back in their room, it was still dark. 

The air was heavy. Still. 

Lando stepped in slowly, as if the room would collapse if he moved too fast. 

Her perfume was still there. 

Sweet, floral, soft. Like summer mornings and pointe shoes. Like the softness of her neck pressed into his chest. Like her laugh when she tried to cook pasta barefoot. 

And on the chair by the closet, the hoodie she always stole from him. 

Folded. 

Untouched. 

Cold. 

He sank to the floor. 

He didn't sob. Not at first. 

He just sat there. 

Then his chest heaved once, twice, and suddenly he was curling into himself, arms wrapped around his knees, the hoodie clutched to his chest like it was the only thing tethering him to her memory. 

And he cried. 

Hard. 

Ugly. 

Painfully. 

The kind of cry that comes when you realize you’ve truly, completely, irrevocably fucked it all up. 

She was gone. 

She had left him. 

And this time, it wasn’t a game. There would be no playful texts. No teasing glances. No lazy mornings and paint-stained kisses. No ballet tickets. 

Just absence. 

Downstairs, the mood was shattered. 

The group didn’t know what to say. 

No one wanted to touch it. 

Max, finally, got up and went upstairs. Quietly opened the door to Lando’s room and saw the boy he’d known since childhood curled in the ground. 

“Mate,” he said gently, stepping in, “I don’t want to tell you how to feel right now. You’re in hell. I get it.” 

Lando didn’t answer. 

“But you need to talk to her. Fix it.” 

Still nothing. 

Max sighed, ruffling his curls, helpless. “Alright. Be sad. But don’t stay here forever.” 

He walked back out. 

And that’s when Kika came in. 

She didn’t knock. 

Didn’t soften her voice. 

Didn’t give him any chance to prepare. 

She walked right up to him, arms crossed, eyes blazing. 

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” 

Lando flinched slightly, looking up from the floor. 

Kika didn’t stop. 

“She’s gone. She left. And you’re just sitting here like you’re the victim in this?” 

“I know I’m not,” he muttered hoarsely. 

“Then why are you acting like it’s over?” 

He looked away. “Because it is.” 

“No.” Her voice was sharp. “It’s over because you’re letting it be over.” 

“Kika—” 

“She loved you.” 

“I know.” 

“She trusted you.” 

“I know.” 

“Then what the hell are you doing crying on the floor instead of going after her?” 

Lando stood up slowly, eyes bloodshot. “Because I broke her. Because I said things I can’t take back.” 

“And?” 

“She won’t forgive me.” 

“Not if you don’t fight for her,” she shot back. “But maybe that’s the truth, maybe you don’t actually love her the way she loved you.” 

His head snapped up. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Then prove me wrong,” she hissed. “Because right now? She’s in a car. She’s in an airport. She’s in a goddamn plane flying away from the guy who she thought would never hurt her. And you’re just… what? Gonna stay here? Let her leave?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Kika’s voice cracked now, not angry, desperate. 

“Are you really going to let the love of your life walk away from you, Lando?” 

His eyes closed. 

“You know where she lives. You know where she dances. If you really love her, if you meant all of it then one mistake shouldn’t ruin everything.” 

Lando was breathing hard now, like he couldn’t catch his breath. 

Kika whispered. “Or will you let your fear ruin it.” 

The room was quiet again. 

But something inside him had cracked open, wider than guilt. Deeper than sadness. 

Something that ached to be fixed. 

And for the first time since she walked out the door… 

Lando wasn’t crying. 

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[cocastyle]

I See You Pt. 3

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 5.5k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — I can’t thank you all enough for the love on this series. It literally means the world to me and because of that I want to apologize for how sad this part is going to be. BUT I promise the fourth and final part is going to be good, so you just have to hold out until then ahah.

Please let me know if you all have any requests for the Thunderbolts* or any other Marvel movie really. I’m on such a Marvel kick right now that my inbox is open for requests :))

Part One Part Two Part Three

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Breaking out of the void was disorienting to say the least. Y/N almost wasn't sure where she was, her mind barely processing that she had gone from seeing Bob in front of her to suddenly being back in her living room within the span of a second.

The tv hummed in front of her, some show playing low enough that she couldn't hear the voices but loud enough that there was still noise. Y/N blinked and glanced down at her hand which was gripping onto a bottle of vodka. She had been moments away from opening it when the darkness had surrounded her and the distant memory of how empty she had felt made her heart ache.

She stared at the bottle colder, Void's words whispering in her ear, "Y/N L/N. The one who got half the universe killed and then tried to find herself at the bottom of a bottle."

Her eyes stung as she realized how right his words had been. Swallowing thickly, she hesitantly reached out and placed it down on the table in front of her. Her fingers trembled as she let it go, her old habits screaming at her to do the only thing she knew how to do now that she was alone once more.

But this wasn't like before. The void had changed her. Bob had changed her.

I'll find you, she had told the boy before everything had disappeared. But how?

Her phone let out a loud ding in that moment and after grudgingly throwing her pillows on the couch around in an attempt to find it, her hands latched onto the small device and flipped it over to see a notification from one of the local news channels.

BREAKING NEWS

NEW AVENGERS SAVE MANHATTAN

The girl was opening her phone in an instant, her fingers rapidly swiping through screens before she was grabbing onto the remote to the TV to change the channel to the current press release that was going on outside of Avengers Tower.

And there he was, standing next to everyone else who had been there when they defeated Void. Valentina de Fontaine stood at a podium, a huge smile on her face as she glanced at her assistant before turning to the crowd.

"For years I've been working in secret to develop a new era of protection. Today, the citizens of the United States needed that protection, and thanks to my hard work, they got it. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the new Avengers."

On the screen, there was visible confusion from almost half the team while Bob was clapping his hands for his friends and still not realizing he was apart of this new group. Y/N would never see what came next because she was out the door before Valentina had even finished speaking.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest and she scrambled to lock the door behind her. She had just managed to get her keys into her pocket and had barely turned around completely when she was bumping into her neighbor who had just stumbled out the door looking just as crazed as she did.

Y/N took a step back in surprise, her eyes flickering over the man in front of her as she let out a rushed, "Sorry, Matt. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Matt Murdock gave her a weak smile, his hand reaching up to adjust his glasses as he stared in the direction of the sound of her voice. "No, no, that's my bad. I was in a rush and was too distracted by what had—" he hesitated slightly, his head titling to the side before he asked. "It happened to you too, huh? Whatever that... void was?"

Y/N stilled slightly and nodded before realizing that was stupid because Matt was a blind man. "Yeah," she quickly recovered, her voice soft despite the utter anxiety she was feeling each moment she wasn't with Bob.

She really hoped he remembered her. She wouldn't know what she would do if he didn't.

"You okay?" Matt asked, his shoulders relaxing a bit and some of the strain in his voice leaving as he frowned towards her. "It might just be everything that happened but you seem a little anxious."

Y/N never understood how he did that. She had been neighbors with him for a little while now, the man having moved in beside her after an "incident" with his last apartment had left it a mess. Ever since the day she had met him it was like he could read into her more than she thought was possible. If she didn't know any better, she would've guessed he wasn't blind. But that was crazy and she did know better.

"I'm fine," she insisted, but the hurriedness of the answer made Matt raise an eyebrow.

"Okay," Matt said gently, thankfully not pressing further. "I was about to go down to Josie's after...well, everything. You want to join?"

"I thought Josie's was closed?"

Matt flashed her a smile that she knew melted many hearts, "Let's just say I know the owner."

Y/N hesitated slightly at the offer, surprised that he had even attempted to be there for her after she had clearly shut him down. After everything that had just happened, she knew that under any other circumstance she probably would've said yes. But all she could think about was Bob and the fact that she knew where he was. If she waited any longer, there was no telling where he would be or when she would find him next.

"I'm sorry," she said, letting out a soft sigh. "I...I have somewhere I need to be." She braced herself for the disappointment that Matt was sure to show, but the man simply gave her a soft smile and a nod.

"Some other time then?" he suggested.

Y/N swallowed thickly at those words, tears pricking her eyes for just a second as she realized that she truly had been pushing everyone away for so long that even a small gesture like Matt's was enough to get to her.

"Some other time."

- - -

The press release went on for a while. After all, everyone wanted a chance to speak to these "New Avengers" and learn everything that they could. It wasn't until about halfway through the questions when one had been directed at Bob and inquired into what his powers were that Bob finally realized that he was also an Avenger.

That thought alone had made him almost short circuit and Yelena had thankfully brushed off the question and directed the interviewers to start wrapping everything up while Bucky gently pulled Bob off to the side as the boy attempted to process it all.

"How?" Bob asked, his eyes locking with Bucky who was still giving him that confused look that the whole team had been giving him ever since the blank in his mind had finished.

"How what?" Bucky asked.

"How am I an Avenger? What did I even do?" Bob asked, getting more confused by the second.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Bucky raised an eyebrow and Bob shook his head. The man let out a soft sigh and just pat his shoulder with his metal hand making the boy wince slightly. "It's a long story, buddy. Let's get through this and then I can explain it all to you, okay?"

Bob numbly nodded and Bucky left his side to go help Yelena control the crowd and Alexei who had gotten over his shock and was pushing for more questions to be asked.

The boy merely watched them from the sidelines, still trying to piece together all that had happened long after the crowd had dispersed.

Just when Bob was about to go back to Bucky and start questioning him again, he felt a small pull on his heart that had him stopping in his tracks. His hand slowly reached up to rest against his chest, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt that small tug again that seemed to be pulling him back the way he had just come.

There was something familiar about this feeling. Something like—

Bob slowly turned around, his eyes instantly locking on a girl who stood a little ways away. She had frozen mid step, her gaze solely on him while her mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

He barely had time to register what was happening before she was running towards him, her body slamming into his as she pulled him into a fierce hug. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held onto him tightly as she whispered through a small laugh, "I found you."

Bob blinked in surprise, his eyes frantically searching around him before locking onto the others who had all stopped short in their conversations upon seeing what was in front of them. Bucky instantly broke off from the group, his strides hurried, but the girl was already pulling away to look at Bob again.

The smile on her face made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks reddened as she reached up to place her hand on his cheek as she asked, "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt, did you?" Her hand fell away as she began to scan him for injuries. "I was lucky enough to still be on my couch, but I wasn't sure where you would end up. You seem to be fine though, so that's good."

She let out a shaky breath and shook her head slightly as she turned her gaze up to him in amusement. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I was just afraid I wouldn't see you again and after—" she paused as she finally took note of Bob's wide eyed gaze. "What's wrong?"

Bob's mouth opened and closed a couple of times while he tried to figure out what was going on, but after a moment of silence that only made her smile disappear more and more by the second, he knew she had connected the dots.

"You...you don't remember me, do you?" she asked, but before Bob could answer, Bucky had reached them and was quickly pulling the girl away. Bob didn't know why he did it, but he subconsciously reached out for her, his hand briefly brushing against her own before Yelena was gently pulling him away in the opposite direction.

"Who is that?" Bob asked, craning his head to watch the girl even as Yelena pulled him away and back over to the others. When he got no response, he turned to look at his friends who all seemed to be trying to come up with an answer. Their eyes all flickered to Yelena who glared back in response before looking to Bob with a sort of gentleness that made him take a small step back.

"I forgot her, didn't I? She was a part of the blank," he said and Yelena let out a small sigh and nodded. Bob gritted his teeth, his gaze falling back on the girl who was talking to Bucky a little ways away. There were tears in her eyes as she argued with the man and she shook her head in disbelief, taking a step back as Bucky reached for her. The sight was enough to make his heart ache.

The girl looked his way, their eyes locking. He felt a gentle caress around his mind and he didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that it was Y/N doing it. Her eyes searched his own, a sadness seeping into them as she failed to find whatever she was looking for. The look she gave him was one he knew he would never forget. That look of realization that you had lost someone you hadn't even realized you had a chance of losing.

A look of heartbreak.

She shook her head slightly as Bucky said something to her and frantically wiped her tears away before spinning on her heels and walking away.

Bob was rushing forward before he could stop himself, but she was gone before he had even reached Bucky.

"Who was that?" Bob asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky turned to him and gave the boy a sad smile as he said, "Y/N."

Y/N...

The name sounded so familiar to him yet so foreign at the same time. The way his heart skipped a beat told him that he knew her, but he couldn't recall a single memory with the girl.

Bucky watched him for a moment before looking in the direction Y/N had gone, his voice soft as he muttered, "Don’t worry. She'll be back."

Bob couldn't tell who that was supposed to reassure more, but he really hoped Bucky was right.

Come back. Please don’t leave.

- - -

FOUR WEEKS LATER. . .

Y/N was quiet from her spot on the ground, her fingers mindlessly twisting blades of grass while her eyes stared blankly at the stone in front of her.

MAY PARKER

WHEN YOU HELP SOMEONE,

YOU HELP EVERYONE

Her heart squeezed in her chest every time she reread the words, but she continued to read them over and over like some sort of mantra. She was hoping they would help her, that being here would make it feel like she had May with her once again.

All she wanted was for the woman to hold her in her arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay. May would know what to say to her to stop this downward spiral she had been in since she left Bob standing there in the aftermath of the Void. May would’ve told her what to do and could’ve helped her understand why she was feeling everything so much worse than she had expected to.

Why looking Bob in the eye and feeling that blank in his mind where she should’ve been made her feel like she was losing someone all over again. She barely knew Bob, she kept reminding herself. She had only known him for a couple hours after all. So why did this feel so familiar?

Why did she feel like she was losing someone who meant something to her all over again?

Her heart ached in a way that reminded her of what she had felt briefly in the void. She couldn’t remember what Void had shown her in that black room, the memory nothing but a blurred image in her head, but she remembered that feeling and that was exactly what she was feeling now.

She shouldn’t have left Bob the way that she did. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember. Yet something about knowing that she had lost the part of him that she had connected with had scared her so much that she hadn’t known what to except to run. All she ever did was screw everything up anyways. Bob was better off without her.

But the way he had looked at her. . .

Y/N quickly shook those thoughts away. None of this should have mattered so much. She had never been good with people. Not since before the Blip anyways.

Bob not remembering her was just her way out of a situation she hadn’t realized she needed out of. Or at least that’s what she had been trying to convince herself for four weeks now especially whenever she felt that familiar tug calling out to him.

It was always that tug.

“I wish you were here,” Y/N whispered to the grave, her voice cracking slightly as tears pricked her eyes. Her fingers numbly pulled a blade of grass from the ground and she closed her eyes, overcome with grief for so many different reasons.

The soft shuffling of shoes along the grass was the thing that finally pulled her from her thoughts and she briefly glanced up to see a boy a couple years younger than herself come to a stop before the grave. He knelt down quietly beside her, his hands reaching out to gently set down a bouquet of white flowers amongst the others.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyes flickering over his face in slight confusion for she swore she knew him from somewhere before she turned and looked back at the grave. The two were silent for a long time before his voice finally filled the air.

“Did you know her?”

Something scratched at the back of her mind at the sound of his voice, but it was gone before she could think too much into it. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I don’t quite remember how we met cause it was so long ago, but she. . .she meant a lot to me.” She glanced towards the boy, his eyes flickering up to lock with her own. “I’m assuming you knew her too?”

He gave her a sad smile before muttering in a strained voice, “Yeah. She used to watch me some when I was a kid.”

Y/N hummed and gave a nod as she looked back at the grave. A comfortable silence fell between the two as they both obviously thought back to their time with May.

“I was there when it happened,” Y/N whispered. She hadn’t meant to tell him, but something about the boy had her telling him before she even knew she was going to. He sat up at that and glanced her way in soft surprise, but she refused to meet his gaze. She hesitated slightly, plucking another blade of grass from the ground. “I could’ve saved her.”

The boy was quiet for a moment before he finally asked, “Y-You were there?”

“Yeah, I—“ Y/N hesitated slightly, a small frown appearing on her face before she shook her head and let out a sigh. “Sorry, I get these blanks in my memory sometimes. Kind of like someone took a sponge to half of my brain and scrubbed it clean. I don’t exactly remember the details of what happened but there was a fight and. . .and all I remember is this feeling of guilt. This feeling of knowing that I could’ve done something to stop her from dying, but I didn’t. I might’ve been too slow to react? I can’t exactly remember, but the guilt, that’s still there. It might be the reason for the blanks if I’m being completely honest.”

The boy deflated a little at her words, his gaze dropping as he said, “If you don’t remember, then how do you know you did something wrong? Maybe someone else was to blame?”

“When have I not done something wrong?” she scoffed. “I always manage to ruin everything, this would be no different. I guess that’s why I’m all alone. All I do is push everyone away and ruin everything that I touch.”

“That’s not true—“ the boy began, but Y/N was already cutting him off, the words spilling out of her now that she had already started.

“No, it is. And I’m doing it again,” she sighed and closed her eyes tightly as she bowed her head. Her thoughts drifted to Bob and she felt the tears prick her eyes once again. “There’s this guy and he might be the first person who has ever understood me more than I understand myself and now that’s it getting real, now that it’s getting hard, I’m ruining everything all over again and running away just because I’m scared of losing him like I have everyone else in my life.”

She shifted her weight so that her knees were now in front of her and tucked close to her body, her forehead resting against her knees while her lip trembled. She did her best to try and steady her breath, not wanting to cry in front of this boy she had only just met, but that’s when another memory of Bob filled her head.

She could practically feel the phantom touch of his lips brushing against her ear and the way his breath had been shaky as he whispered to her, “I would’ve liked to be your friend.”

Y/N sniffled at that and opened her eyes, letting a couple of tears fall as she stared at the grave in front of her. The boy didn’t speak as he sat beside her and she honestly expected him to leave after she dumped all of that onto him, but he simply sat there, contemplating her words.

“There was this girl that I knew,” he finally said and her tear filled eyes flickered his way but he was staring down at the ground in full concentration as though this story he was about to tell was too painful to even think about. “We. . .we grew up together and one thing led to another and we eventually started dating. She was my best friend and knew me in ways no one else did.”

“I loved her with everything I had,” he admitted, a sad smile on his face as tears began to fill his eyes. “But then the Blip happened and I disappeared while she got left behind. By the time I came back, she was five years older and everything had changed too much. We couldn’t be together anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but the boy merely shrugged.

“It didn’t stop me from loving her,” he told her. “I think I’ll always love her…even in those moments where she doesn’t love herself.”

Y/N wiped away her tears, her gaze now locked onto the boy and not pulling away. “What happened to you guys?” she asked.

“Our relationship changed,” he answered. “She was still my best friend, but things were different. We actually ended up growing closer in the ways that mattered. She helped me after I lost some people I cared about even though she was dealing with her own problems and her own grief in the process. I wouldn’t have gotten through it all without having her there, without having someone who saw me and was there to remind me that I didn’t have to be alone just because I had lost some people and made some mistakes. She actually even helped me find a new girlfriend in the process funnily enough.”

“And where is she now?”

The boy hesitated at those words and for the first time during his whole story, he finally looked her way. His eyes locked with her own and he was quiet as he stared at her. It was only when he hadn’t responded for a moment too long that she felt her powers start to reach out for him. She hadn’t used them the whole time they had been talking, but she couldn’t help it in that moment.

But right when her powers were just beginning to touch the outskirts of his mind, the boy whispered, “You kind of remind me of her.”

Y/N froze at those words, her powers instantly pulling away as she stared at the boy in surprise. For a brief second, there was a flicker in the back of her mind, but it was gone faster than it appeared and already long forgotten by the girl.

The boy looked back at the grave, his face full of contemplation before he finally said, “I think if May were still around, she wouldn’t want you to give up on this friend of yours. I think she’d want you to be happy. You’re the type of person who deserves it.”

Tears filled her eyes as she watched the boy and she swallowed thickly before muttering, “You think?”

“I do.”

Y/N smiled at that, her voice a bit shaky as she said, “Thank you.”

The boy let his own smile cross his face at her words and she almost missed the way he quickly wiped at his eyes to get rid of some tears that had escaped as he pulled himself onto his feet.

“I should get going,” he said, his gaze falling back on the girl once more. He stared at her for a moment as though he were trying to memorize what she looked like before his smile softened. “Yeah, I think you’re going to be just fine.”

Y/N blinked at those words, her mouth dropping open as she failed to find the right words to say, but the boy had already turned on his heels to start walking out of the graveyard. He held a hand up in the air in farewell, his voice calling out to her as he left, “I'll see you around, Y/N."

"Wait, I didn't get your name!” she called after him, but the boy was already gone.

It wouldn't be until later that she realized the boy had called her by her name, but she had never given to him in the first place.

- - -

You would think after defeating your inner darkness and finally finding friends that had turned into family that he would've been better or at least on the road to being better, but that wasn't the case for Bob. Something was missing. Something so pivotal that he felt that absence in his heart, an emptiness different from what he had felt before the events that had taken place in Manhattan weeks prior.

Bob wasn't himself and this emptiness he felt? It all had to do with Y/N.

Bob didn't know what it meant or why he felt this way. He still had no recollection of what had transpired the day Void had taken over and he had met Y/N for the first time. All he had were the words of his friends who had gently explained everything to him after Y/N had disappeared that day and this feeling like something was pulling at his heart, desperately wishing he would remember.

And he did want to remember. He really did.

The guilt was practically turning into agony at this point especially since Y/N had failed to show up after finding out that he had forgotten everything that had happened between them. That look on her face was still permanently engraved in his mind. That utter sadness that had flickered through her eyes still making his throat constrict in that way it always did right before he felt the urge to cry.

He had tried to find her at first. He had done everything really. It had gotten to the point where even the others had all stepped in to try and help, but she still reminded no where to be seen.

Bob had been asking Bucky every day if there were any updates, but the man always gave him that same sad smile and placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort as he whispered, "Sorry, buddy."

"Y/N has a way of being able to stay hidden when she wants to be," Yelena had told him one day when the two had been sitting on the balcony staring out at the city below. "She won't be found unless she wants to be found."

That had been discouraging to say the least, but Bob still hadn't given up hope. "Just give her time," Bucky had told him and that's what Bob had been trying to do.

He kept himself as busy as he could, instead picking up reading once again, a hobby he hadn't invested time in since before his time in the trials. But his thoughts never failed to eventually drift to the topic of Y/N just as they had since the moment he laid eyes on her.

Even now his head was stuck in the clouds as he sat in one of the chairs of the living room of Avengers Tower. The team had all left to go pick up some shawarma from a place down the street that Bucky had told them his best friend and the former Captain America, Steve Rogers, had said was the best place to eat. They had invited Bob along, but he had declined and was now stuck spiraling into his own thoughts.

There was just something about Y/N that called to him, that made him want so desperately to remember that he would spend hours just sitting and trying his very hardest to remember even the smallest detail from that day.

Bob let out a small frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair to push it away from his eyes. He was just about to start another futile attempt at reading when a beep from the tablet on the table filled the air signaling that someone was at the front door.

Frowning, Bob reached forward to grab the tablet, clicking a couple of buttons like Yelena had showed him in order to get a glimpse at who was there.

The breath practically left his lungs at the sight, his body promptly falling off the chair in surprise before he was scrambling to his feet and running towards the elevator, his book and tablet long forgotten. He was at the front door in an instant, his hand shakily wrapping around the door handle before he pulled it open to reveal Y/N L/N standing there with her hand raised to knock again.

Y/N stilled as the door flew open and her eyes widened slightly as she stared at Bob, the two both not saying anything as they simply stared at each other in shock.

Bob's eyes quickly scanned the girl, desperately trying to piece together if this was a dream or the real thing. After a moment of reassuring himself that this was in fact real, he let out a shaky breath.

He was unable to speak, but the thought flashed through his mind regardless, You found me.

I'll always find you, her voice replied, but it sounded distant like a memory whispering to him and reminding him that she had found him before and would find him time and time again.

"Hi," she finally whispered, her voice coming out shaky. He could tell she was preparing herself for rejection, for the knowledge that he had no clue who she was and probably would never remember. He should say something. But she was here and she was here for him and that was all Bob could focus on.

"H-Hi," he stuttered out.

Her eyes flickered over his face and she gave him a small, unsure smile as she said, "I'm Y/N."

"Bob," he replied, still shocked by the fact that she was standing before him.

"I know," she said before groaning slightly at her words and shaking her head. "I mean. . .Sorry, this is hard."

Bob relaxed at those words, offering her a sad smile as he said, "I know. The team. . .they told me about what happened. I'm sorry I can't remember."

Y/N looked down at that, her breath shaky as she stuffed her hands further into her jacket pockets.

"I want to remember," Bob rushed out, wanting nothing more than for her to look back up at him. The confession was enough to do just that and before he knew it, their eyes were locking once more.

She stared at him in silence before finally whispering, "Maybe we can try to help you remember." She paused for a brief second before adding, "Together."

Bob stilled at that, something flickering in the back of his head, an image of Y/N standing before him just like this as those same words had passed between them.

"Together," he muttered, his eyes squinting slightly in confusion as he tried to grasp onto that wisp of a memory. He smiled softly and let his gaze fall on the girl once more. "As long as you're okay being friends with the guy who does nothing but screw everything up."

Bob might've not remembered anything, but that smile that appeared on Y/N's face even as tears pricked her eyes was the kind of smile that made him want to remember it all just so he could keep seeing her like that.

"I think I can manage that," she told him, reaching up to lightly wipe at her eyes before any tears could fall. Bob gave her a small smile in response before stepping out of the way so Y/N could step inside.

Their hands briefly brushed against one another as she passed and there was that tug again, the same one that had been pulling on him since he first saw her, the same one that was constantly pulling them into each other's orbit. And it was in that moment that Bob finally knew what it meant.

After all, the body remembers what the mind forgets.

I see you, he heard her whisper into his mind, her eyes flickering to lock with his as he closed the door and joined her by her side.

His shoulder brushed against her own and she pressed slightly into it, each of them being a steady presence for the other as they stared at each other and prepared to step into the unknown.

I see you too.

______________

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