#stinger x yn

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Anchored to You

Stinger x low-energy(gender neutral)!Reader

Sypnosis- Stinger is all energy, all excitement, the kind of person who throws himself into battle without hesitation. You? You’d rather keep things quiet, steady, and slow. Somehow, though, he always finds himself gravitating toward you, as if your calm presence is the only thing keeping him from burning out.

Word Count: 4k+ (because I can’t hold back when it’s fluff)

MOON 🌑 AND SUN ☀️

♡ The first time Stinger noticed you, it wasn’t in a fight or a dramatic moment. It wasn’t anything exciting, actually.

You were napping.

Right in the middle of the Hero Association’s break room, curled up on a bench like the world's softest looking cat. Your arms were folded under your head, and the faint rise and fall of your shoulders told him you were either asleep or about to be.

Meanwhile, he had just finished beating a Deep Sea monster, his pulse still racing, adrenaline thrumming through his veins like electricity.

"Man, I need to move," he muttered, bouncing slightly on his heels. That fight had been insane, and his body wasn’t done riding the high.

That’s when his eyes landed on you again.

Completely still. Absolutely unbothered. A direct contrast to the mess of energy vibrating in his limbs.

Before he even realized it, he was walking toward you.

"Yo."

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

He tilted his head. How the hell were you sleeping through this? The room was packed heroes moving around, people yelling, and yet, you looked like you hadn’t been conscious for years.

Stinger knelt next to the bench and poked your arm. "Hey, you good?"

Your eyes fluttered open, the laziest blink he’d ever seen. "You’re loud," you mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

Stinger grinned. "And you’re half-dead. You sleep here now?"

"Only when my bed feels too far away," you murmured, shifting slightly. You didn’t exactly invite him to sit, but you didn’t tell him to go away either.

So, naturally, he took that as permission and plopped down beside you.

And in hours, he felt his heartbeat settle.

♡ Stinger learned something very quickly about you.

You weren’t the type to say things outright.

You wouldn’t run into his arms after a mission. You wouldn’t tell him you missed him. You wouldn’t text him first, wouldn’t cling to him in a traditional sense.

But your love was in the details.

It was in the way you always waited for him to sit down before leaning into his space. It was in the way your fingers brushed against his, hesitating for half a second before curling around his wrist. It was in the way you reached for the fabric of his sleeve absentmindedly, as if just making sure he was there.

And for a guy like Stinger, who had spent most of his life running headfirst into danger, that kind of quiet, subtle love? It destroyed him.

One evening, after a long mission, he stumbled into your apartment.

Normally, Stinger was all grins, all noise, never letting exhaustion show. But tonight, his shoulders ached, his ribs were bruised, and the weight of being a hero felt just a little heavier than usual.

He expected you to ask what happened.

Instead, you just… reached for his wrist and pulled him toward the couch.

No words. No questions. Just a simple tug, guiding him down until his head rested on your lap.

"Stay?" he muttered, already half-asleep.

You hummed, running your fingers through his messy hair. "Always."

And that was enough.

♡ "You ever wonder how we work?" Stinger asked one lazy afternoon, arms wrapped around your waist while the two of you lay tangled on the couch.

"You mean how you’re a walking explosion, and I prefer existing at two miles per hour?"

"Yeah, that." He grinned, shifting slightly so his chin rested on your shoulder. "How does that work?"

You thought for a moment. "You chased me."

Stinger scoffed. "I did not chase you."

You raised a brow. "Oh? Who followed me around for a whole week, bringing me snacks and asking if I wanted to ‘hang out’?"

"Okay, maybe I chased you a little," he admitted, laughing against your skin. "Worth it, though."

"Mm." You leaned back against him. "I think you needed someone to slow you down."

He paused.

And maybe you were right.

Because before you, he had never really stopped moving.

He had always been running, always rushing into the next fight, always burning through life at full speed without stopping to breathe.

But with you?

With you, he could be still.

Home wasn’t a place.

Not for Stinger, at least. He had moved around too much, fought too many battles, to really consider anywhere permanent.

But one night, after a long mission, he went into your apartment and found you half-asleep on the couch, curled up under a blanket with your fingers loosely grasping the edge of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him.

Even in sleep, you had been waiting.

And for the first time in his life, he felt it.

That quiet, unshakable warmth. That anchor pulling him back to solid ground. That certainty in his bones that no matter how far he ran, no matter how much energy he burned, he’d always have somewhere to return to.

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before whispering, "I’m home."

And even though you were half-asleep, your fingers curled tighter around his sleeve, voice barely above a murmur as you mumbled,

"Welcome back."

Extra Notes

💌 Softest boy ever → Stinger is a himbo with too much energy, but he melts the second you touch him.

💌 Reader is his safe place → You’re the one person who can get him to sit still, slow down, and breathe.

💌 Home isn’t a place, it’s you. Period.