Andrew Neiman Drabble

I Wanna Get Lost With You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Stark!Thunderbolt!Reader

Summary: After a rough night, you find yourself with a rare day off–the one that you take on the same day every year in memoriam for the fallen. So you head into the city to spend your feelings away on the only thing that makes sense to you: gifts for your favourite team of scrappy anti-heros…And Bob.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Spoilers for Thunderbolts because everyone from Thunderbolts is in this and is involved and there is events from the movie that are mentioned :). Fluff, a hint of angst (because of the reader having a rough night…and a rough couple of years in general), Brief Mentioning of Grief and Loss, Bucky is kind of a reluctant father figure to the reader, Bob is Bob and he’s a softie who’s seen it all, Reader and Bob have an established friendship, Smut.

Smut Warnings: Hot and Heavy Makeout Session, Grinding, Cuddling with Some ✨Spice ✨(ahem…Fingering and handjobs lol), Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all, you know the drill), Bob is a softie, reader knows what she likes (a bit of a soft dominant vibe but not really). This is like a mix of comfort sex, and like purely desperate sex, you’ll see, you’ll see. Lol, Aftercare (because that’s hot too)

Author’s Note: This request was given to me by @xlittlemissydjx and I just had to do it when I read it (I also accidentally deleted the request by accident lol). I really expanded the landscape of it though, but I hope it meets what you were looking for :). Thanks I know I have a lot of pending part 2’s of one-shots, but I really couldn’t resist the opportunity to put a little bit of everything into this story, Angst, Fluff, and Smut. The holy trinity lol. Enjoy :))

Note About Requests!!!: I’m working through them! I have about 14 things I need to do! So be patient! They should all be done at varying times within the next week and a half (I get in the zone enough to get two a day out so hopefully that can help!)

Word Count: 18,416 (…Wow)

You had been tossing and turning all night, and it showed the second you stepped into the kitchen that morning. It was written in the heaviness of your steps, the way you continuously readjusted your sweater as if it was too tight–even though it was two sizes too big–, and it was painted across your eyes with the faint smudge of exhaustion that clung to the corners of them.

You had your tells–the little things that gave it away, and the team knew all of them. They knew when you didn’t get enough sleep, or when you didn’t get any sleep at all. You didn’t even have to say a word to them, they could just gauge it from your facial expressions. If you weren’t your usual chirpy self–the version of you that compensated your sadness with jokes and filled the room with noise–they knew what they were in for.

And today? You hadn’t said a word.

The moment you walked into the kitchen though you were pulled into the chaotic scene unfolding in front of you, as the scent of scorched butter hit your nose.

“I told you to spray the pan, Bob. Did you spray it or not?” Walker’s voice rang out, sharp with his distinct signature brand of early-morning frustration. He stood by the oven, hunched over it with a spatula in his hand wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a “Grill Sergeant” apron. Bob stood a few feet away, sheepish and visibly wilting by the tone that Walker was taking with him. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his fingers were busy wringing the hem of his flour-streaked sweater–the nervous habit he hadn’t kicked.

Over the past few weeks, Bob had started volunteering for kitchen duty more and more–not because he was good at it, because unfortunately he wasn’t and everyone had learned it the hard way–but because he liked the idea of it. Of helping. Of contributing back to the compound as he was in his recovery process from his incident in New York. He had also mentioned to you in passing that it helped him feel like he was normal again, and it reminded him of the simpler times.

But now, with flour scattered everywhere, batter dripping down the front of the counter, and Walker looming over him with the interrogating questions, he was clearly second-guessing his life choices.

”I…I thought I did.” He mumbled, looking around the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I had the can in my hand.” He whispered, confused.

”Then what happened, hm?” Walker questioned, “Did the damn thing disappear out of your hand or something?” You reached up to rub the tiredness out of your eyes, letting out a sigh, which got the room's attention almost instantly–like you sucked the air out of it.

“Walker, what have I said about taking it easy on Bob, for the love of God.” Your voice wasn’t loud, because it didn’t need to be. Even with being the youngest in the group, you were seasoned enough to be feared, especially by Walker–which was always surprising for the ones who would see the both of you interact.

Bob looked over at you immediately the moment your voice broke through the room–firm and quiet, how you always were–and just like that, his posture shifted. Not completely–he was still wringing the hem of his sweater and looking sheepish–but something in him softened.

You always did that to him. You walked into a room, and it was like the gravity in the room shifted. You were never loud with him, your energy was controlled, but even if you were the loud person that you were around the others, Bob still lit up, in the same way a quiet house lights up when someone finally opens the blinds. His breathing got a little easier. His shoulders dropped just a little lower. Like he knew–even without words–that if anything ever went wrong, you’d be there to shield him from the worst of it.

And you always were, since the day you met in the O.X.E Vault, the day things changed for you–for the better of course.

You defended him the way no one else really did. The way nobody else really could replicate. You caught every nervous tick he had, you knew when to pull him out of situations he couldn’t handle, and you filled in his silences when he got overwhelmed and went quiet, answering hard questions for him with that calm, dry tone that let everyone know there were lines that were crossed.

You didn’t baby him, but you stood with him.

And Bob–who had spent so much of his life being pushed to the side, forgotten, or abused–had never really known what it was like to be protected like that, and he paid you back in the only way he knew how; by being your constant. A little planet in your very tight orbit, always trying, always showing up, always offering whatever soft, steady care he could muster.

You would say you took care of him in public, and he took care of you in private.

You’d never talked about it–not in direct words–but the arrangement was understood. He knew when to slip a cup of tea into your hand on the nights when your hands shook too hard to make one yourself. You knew when to plant yourself between him and a room full of sharp voices. He knew when to knock gently on your door and ask if you’d eaten. You knew when to tug him by the sleeve and get him out of conversations that made his breath short and his voice crack.

‘Hey, there’s only so many ruined breakfasts a man can take before he snaps.” Walker replied, holding up the pan that had what looked to be a burnt pancake glued onto it, “Look at what he did. This is literally my last one.” You didn’t even flinch. You gave the pancake a passing glance, then turned your attention back to Walker, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

”And yet somehow the world keeps spinning, Walker. Why didn’t you take the harder stuff if you knew there was a possibility of Bob ruining your prized pan?” There was a long pause, until Walker held his hands up in mock surrender.

”Fine…Fine…You’re right. I’m sorry.” You raised an eyebrow.

”And apologize to Bob.” You added, watching Walker glance sideways at him.

”Sorry, Bob.” Bob gave a quick, awkward nod.

”It’s okay…” He whispered under his breath.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the interaction to be done, as you walked from the entrance of the kitchen and made your way toward the fridge, cracking the door open to grab a chilled bottle of water. The cold bit into your palm–and you lingered there for a moment, letting the cool air brush over your skin before closing the door again.

You stepped towards Bob then.

”You good?” You asked, voice low now, like it was just meant for him. He nodded, hesitating for only a breath.

”Yeah…I-I didn’t mean to screw things up so badly…I was just trying to help.” You let out a quiet sigh. The kind that carried the tail-end of exhaustion and affection at the same time, in equal measures, giving Walker a death stare, before reaching out to Bob, patting the side of his arm. It wasn’t too soft, nor too hard–it was just right to comfort him.

“Well,” You murmured, letting a touch of warmth back into your voice, “Go help by setting up the table, okay? I’ll order some food for everyone, and if you hear Walker screaming for his life, just ignore it.” This drew out a laugh from Bob–small and unguarded, a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected it to break free from his mouth in the way it did. It wasn’t loud, but it was full-bodied and real, the kind that deepened the flush that was always on his cheeks. Walker furrowed his brow from where he stood.

”What was that?” You didn’t answer him, you were already pulling your phone from the front pocket of your father’s hoodie, tapping through the food delivery app with the kind of speed that only came from someone who routinely cleaned up the emotional aftermath of other people’s messes.

”Nothing, I was just telling Bob I’m ordering breakfast for everyone, hope you like hash browns.” You said flatly, your tone disinterested as your thumb hovered over your usual go-to breakfast place, the one that you used to go to on your birthday.

Bob, still smiling faintly to himself, took this as his cue to duck out of the kitchen without another word, moving towards the dining area with a new sense of purpose. Walker watched him for a second as he left the room, leaving the two of you alone together, before shaking his head.

”You’re too soft on him.” You didn’t look up from your phone as you added seven orders of bacon to the cart.

”I’m just going to give you a friendly reminder that he helped us out of the Void and bought us time to save him, and another reminder that he saved our lives at the vault too. We owe him the softness, and the stability.” Walker sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was trying to physically scratch the tension out of his spine.

”Still. The guy’s not made of glass. I think you forget that he beat the shit out of us in this very tower.” He shot back, which made you look up from your phone.

”That was the Sentry. You know that. And you only bring that up because you’re still butthurt that your shield hasn’t been fixed.” Walker grunted, caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant defeat. He shook his head again, slower this time, then dropped his spatula into the sink.

”Fine…You win.” He muttered.

”I always do,” You replied, looking back down at your phone to add three extra croissants to the order just in case someone got picky, going to check out.

”You gonna be in the training room later, thought we could spar together.” You paused for a second, glancing up at him for a moment, before processing your order and locking your phone, sliding it back into the hoodie pocket.

”No,” You said simply, turning the cap off your water, taking a quick sip, letting the coolness spread across your chest, “It’s my day off.” You added, which caught his attention immediately.

”Off? You don’t take days off.”

“I do today, we haven’t known each other long enough for you to see me take a day off anyways…So why is this such a surprise?”Walker furrowed his brow a bit.

”It’s just a bit weird, taking a random Tuesday off, what’s the occasion?” You met his eyes, almost annoyed by the line of questioning.

“It’s just for me, that’s all.”

——————-

After cleaning up everyone’s plates after breakfast, you collected your keys from the dish on the counter and slipped them into your pocket. No one questioned you. No one stopped you.

Bob had been in the middle of rinsing out the orange juice glasses, sleeves damp with his concentration fixed on the smallest marks, like he was trying not to think too hard. You gave him a soft pat on the back as you passed. He didn’t turn, but you felt the way he leaned into it, a silent acknowledgement.

You didn’t say goodbye. It wasn’t that kind of day.

Instead, you made your way down the corridor, past the glass-paneled lounge where Yelena and Ava were arguing over something that sounded like movie night logistics, and past the half-lit training room where the mats were still scuffed from the week before.

The elevator greeted you with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the main lobby, knowing you had to make a stop before travelling into the heart of the city. The doors slid shut in front of you, sealing off the noise of the compound, and the silence that followed settled in your chest. The elevator hummed quietly beneath your feet, the numbers ticking down slower than usual, like it knew what kind of day it was for you.

When the doors finally opened, the lobby was quiet. You stepped out quickly, turning on your heel to go down the hallway that was right beside the elevator. It was silent, cleaner than the rest of the compound, and dimmer–there was less foot traffic so that’s why it was normally lit like a mortuary. The air down this hall always felt heavier, because it was the lead up to something you visited frequently.

Your boots echoed against the polished tile, until the corridor opened into the memorial wing. A long, curved hall with framed photos and holographic projections lining both sides–names etched into the glass like ghosts.

The “Hall of the Fallen,” they called it. A name you hated to say out loud, because to you they were your people.

The entire wing had only come to be because you forced it into existence. During the final round of renovations, when Valentina wanted the east wing reserved for press briefings and high-tech sparring simulations, you had walked into her office, dropped a folder full of lawsuit drafts onto her desk, and told her plainly that if your father didn’t have a place in this building, neither would you. You knew you sounded out of line, but because the tower used to be his, you thought the leverage would be something to hold over her head.

“I will sue you into the sun,” You had said calmly, “And I’ll have Pepper on the line within the hour to back me.”

So she relented.

And now… Here it was.

Each section of the wall was backlit in soft amber light. Not cold and sterile, but warm–like candlelight. Like the kind of lighting your dad always insisted on in the Tower because he said it was more comforting and less lab-like.

Your eyes tracked instinctively toward the far right. You never had to look for it, because you knew exactly where he was, call it a daughterly instinct.

The large framed photograph of Tony Stark stood in front of you. No helmet, no Iron Man suit. Just him, in a slightly crooked tie and a hand resting on your shoulder. The image had been cropped, but you remembered where this was taken. He’d been giving a press conference and you snuck up beside him mid-speech. He had rolled his eyes and laughed, pulling you into the shot like it was nothing.

You slowly stepped forward, putting out your hand to reach for him, but before you could, you noticed someone already standing near the center of the hallway, facing a different frame.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets, hair slicked back like he was going for a meeting…Bucky.

He didn’t turn at the sound of your steps. He didn’t have to. He knew you would be here. It was the anniversary of your fathers death after all.

He was standing in front of Steve’s photo–head slightly bowed, jaw clenched, like the weight of all the memories he had with him had curled itself around his spine and wouldn’t let go.

You approached him slowly, your boots muffled now by the soft carpet that lined the central arc of the memorial wing. Bucky hadn’t moved, his eyes were locked on the image of Steve–clean-cut, square-jawed, with his warm smile forever frozen in time. You stopped beside him to stand shoulder to shoulder.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, you just stared at the photo, breathing deeply, in reflection of the moments you all got together. After a minute you cleared your throat, pushing the lump to the side so you could speak.

”You missed breakfast.” Bucky let out a slow breath through his nose.

”Didn’t really feel like having pancakes today.” You cracked a small smile.

”Wasn’t pancakes…Bob ruined Walker's last pan by burning them.” His lip twitched just a little.

“Sounds like I didn’t miss much then.” He said, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth before fading again. The silence between you returned, but it wasn’t empty–it was heavy. Full of everything neither of you had ever needed to say out loud.

Your eyes lingered on the picture of Steve for a moment, before shifting sideways to study Bucky instead. He looked older in this light. Not tired–just…Quieter. Softer around the edges in a way that only grief can carve into a man.

“How long have you been down here?” You asked.

”About thirty minutes, I had a meeting today actually so that’s also why I missed breakfast.” Bucky shifted his weight slightly, eyes still trained on the photo, “Didn’t think I’d end up staying this long, but you know…Memories make you lose track of time.” You nodded slowly, getting a bit closer to him, slipping your arm into his, feeling the coolness of his vibranium radiating through his jacket. He let out a slow, steady exhale, letting your hand rest there, and in that small gesture, you felt the quiet return of the role he’d carved out between the both of you–it was reluctant at first, but unshakable now.

”You know…” You murmured after a beat, “He would’ve been really proud of you.” Bucky didn’t speak right away, but you could see his jaw clench at your words, before nodding.

”Tony would’ve been proud of you too.” That made you scoff, but softly. You looked down at your boots, your fingers curling slightly around the curve of his arm.

”Definitely not,” You said with a dry laugh, “I don’t think he ever intended on me being on a team like this…Or carrying on his legacy at all, really. Especially not with how I started this…With Val and everything.” You added.

”We all do stupid things sometimes, but now you’re a part of something bigger than yourself. I’m telling you…He would’ve been very happy to see you in action.” You looked down at your feet, with a soft smile coming up on your face before nodding.

It hit you again–like it always did this time of year–that Bucky had become the closest thing you had left to family. Apart from Pepper and Morgan, he was the only one that truly stood by you. This year was different of course, especially with your new teammates, but it made you think back to how far the both of you truly came.

Because it never started that way. In fact, you didn’t think Bucky would’ve offered you the protection he did. He was quiet and watchful, always keeping people at arm’s length. But something changed at your father’s funeral.

He found you that day–after the speeches and the silence, after Pepper had walked Morgan inside of the house to make her some food and Rhodes offered his condolences. You were standing by the water, not crying, just looking out onto the way the sun was setting, wearing one of Tony’s old jackets because it still smelled like his aftershave.

You didn’t even hear Bucky approach until he was beside you, and when he spoke, it was the only thing that had cut through the fog in your brain that day.

“If you ever need anything…” He said, quietly, like it wasn’t a promise he had been planning to make, “Anything at all…I’m one phone call away. No questions asked.” You had looked up at him, surprised that he was even talking to you, especially after everything that had happened between him and your father, but all you did was give him a nod, and a thank you.

Then, four years later, when you found yourself stuck in the desert with Walker, Ava, and Yelena, after escaping the death trap that was the O.X.E. Vault, and witnessing Bob turn into a human asteroid, you had pulled out your phone and dialed his number.

You remembered the look on Walker’s face as you pulled out your phone and started dialing.

”Who the hell are you calling in the middle of the desert?” You looked up at him, shielding your phone away from him.

”My emergency contact…Someone who’s not going to let us die out here.” You muttered, putting the phone to your ear. It only had to ring once, before he picked it up.

”Y/N, hey, you think I can call you back in a few minutes.” He said, like he was in a rush, like he was packing.

”Bucky, I’m in trouble.” Walker’s face had immediately dropped, his mouth opening slightly. Yelena had seen the look, and she had whispered something to him, not understanding the visceral reaction.

“Bucky!?” Walker exclaimed, you looked over at him confused, pressing your finger to your lips–afraid that his voice would echo through the open space and gain some sort of attention possibly.

”…Y/N…Was that John Walker's voice that I just heard?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece together what the hell was happening.

“Y-Yeah. Listen, we don’t have time to go into details because I need to conserve my battery, but we are in a desert in Utah, and we’re lost. I need you to help me…Will you please help me?” He had already been packing his motorcycle to start making his way over after receiving a call from Mel with her coordinates, and immediately he started connecting the dots that you were somehow involved. Before the line of questioning even left his lips, he remembered what he told you at the funeral and reluctantly spoke.

”Okay. I’ll track your coordinates and be there as fast as I can, just…For the love of God stay safe.” You nodded.

”I will, I’ll see you soon…Thank you Bucky.” Then you hung up the phone.

”How the fuck do you know Bucky Barnes?!” Was the first question out of Walker's mouth.

Then all the details were out in the open for everyone to know; how you knew him, how you were Tony’s daughter, how you joined Val’s list of operatives because you felt like you wanted to do something and she offered it to keep you busy. You were surprised that your identity wasn’t known to the group, so it was a relief when they quietly gave a nod to you almost as if to say they were sorry for even asking. Then the unplanned limo pickup from Alexei had happened, which intruded on the plans a little bit and ended with you having to reset your own shoulder, but to be reunited with Bucky Barnes was a heaven sent.

“Been watching you on TV at those congress hearings, congratulations by the way.” He let out a soft laugh at that comment, adjusting your shoulder into the proper position.

”Yeah well…I guess a lot of unexpected things have happened over the past couple of years.” He said, still a bit concerned with the details on how you somehow got wrapped up in all of this. But once again, he said no questions asked and he stuck to it.

Now as you stood side by side today though, it was easy to say that he was like a father figure you never thought you would have again, and you were grateful for all of it, regardless of how it fell into place.

”…I sometimes wish he got to see me with you guys too…” You whispered, breaking the silence. Bucky glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

”I’m telling you, he would’ve liked it. Sometimes when I see you at briefings you have the same mannerisms he had, same attitude and stuff. I was never really around him but I heard stories from Steve. It’s like you’re a carbon copy of him in female form.” That drew a soft laugh out of you.

“While I do appreciate being compared to him, I can never be as good.” There was a pause, and he sighed.

”There’s no ‘good’ kid…You’re doing the best you can with the cards you’ve been dealt. And I’m proud of you, we all are, even though none of us really say it often enough.” Bucky’s words settled into your chest like something warm and grounding, something heavy in the best possible way. You blinked a few times, swallowing the knot in your throat before it could turn into something embarrassing, and that’s when an idea popped into your mind.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment longer, just breathing. Just being.

Then, slowly–almost uncertain–Bucky shifted, and his arm moved around your shoulders. He didn’t pull you in abruptly. He didn’t force the moment. It was gentle. Intentional. Like he was offering the hug, not giving it. It was something Bucky rarely did, but in a moment where comfort was needed he would push the discomfort off for you.

You leaned into it immediately.

Your arms came around his middle, anchoring yourself to the familiar weight of him. You didn’t close your eyes, but you let your cheek rest against his chest and took a breath. He smelled like leather and clean soap, and the faint trace of a piney cologne he always insisted he didn’t wear. You both stayed like that for a few beats–just enough to feel steady again.

“Thanks Buck,” You mumbled, your voice quiet.

“Anytime,” He replied, equally soft.

You pulled back, brushing your sleeve against your face subtly wiping a small tear that was forming in the corner of your eye as you stepped away.

“Alright…Enough with the sappiness…” You sighed, your tone turning a bit lighter now, “I’m heading into the city to do a bit of shopping therapy…” Bucky arched an eyebrow.

”Shopping therapy huh? Guess it’s better than drinking. And you’re going without your second shadow?” You looked at him confused.

”Who?” Bucky gave you a look, one of those deadpan, all-knowing stares.

”Bob,” He responded, “You think he’s not going to notice that you’re gone for the whole day?” A guilty grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. Everyone knew how close you were to him, but Bucky was the one person to know how deep it truly went, how much Bob actually knew about you, down to the little details, and the darkest parts.

”I slipped out while he was rinsing the glasses, I figure I’ll have about an hour of radio silence until someone calls to tell me he’s looking for me.” Bucky huffed a dry laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll shoot let him know of my whereabouts in a bit…Don’t worry.” You promised, stuffing your hands into your hoodie pocket. “Just wanted a little time to myself. Got an idea I need to run with, and I think it’ll help.”

He didn’t press for more. He never did. That was the good thing about Bucky–he could read you like a book, but he only turned the pages when you were ready.

“Well,” he said after a moment, adjusting the collar of his jacket, “Don’t get lost in any candle shops.”

“No promises.”

You turned to go, but paused halfway down the hall and glanced back. He was still standing there in front of Steve’s photo, hands back in his pockets, eyes distant. You softened.

“I’ll be back later tonight. Might be close to dinner, maybe after. But tell the others not to start movie night without me.”

Bucky nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

“They’ll wait,” He said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You offered him a small smile–one of the rare, real ones–and gave a little wave as you turned and headed out.

The elevator doors closed behind you with a soft ding, and for the first time that day, you felt the flicker of excitement hum through your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for yet–but you were going to find something for each of them. Something thoughtful. Something that said thank you for being here, for staying, for putting up with me.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

———————

You had returned that night thirty minutes after dinner was wrapping up. Everyone was still mingling in the kitchen, the remnants of takeout cartons and half-eaten desserts scattered across the island, but when the elevator dinged, every head instinctively turned toward the hallway.

When the doors slid open and you stepped out–flanked by two interns struggling with your overflow of tissue-paper-filled bags–you didn’t even get a full step before you called out.

“Everyone stay in the kitchen! No peeking!” You warned, your voice commanding but playful. “I’m serious, if I catch one head in that hallway, I’m throwing dessert in the trash.”

That got a ripple of muffled laughter from the group.

“You act like we don’t eat dessert before dinner,” Yelena shouted back.

Despite your warning though, Bob didn’t get the memo.

You barely made it halfway to the living room, with the interns trailing behind you, when the sound of socked feet came pattering rapidly around the corner.

Bob appeared, cheeks flushed, his light brown hair a little mussed, his eyes wide and brimming with unfiltered concern. He wore a pair of black sweat pants and an oversized dark grey sweater that covered his broad frame, it made him look fragile and small–even though beneath his clothes it was far from the image he was trying to portray. You had caught glimpses of his body in little increments, sometimes by accident you would walk in as he was pulling on his shirt and you’d catch the lean muscles on his back flexing, once you saw his abs when he reached up to grab something, and once in a while you’d catch him with his sleeves rolled up, and you’d see the cool blue veins that rose from the planes of his forearms. Sometimes you wished you’d see more of him, but you were fine with what you had the privilege of seeing. He looked like he’d been waiting by the kitchen threshold all evening, just listening for the elevator.

“Hey—are you okay?” He asked, his voice already rushing. “I—I remembered what day it was, and I didn’t know if you wanted space or if you wanted company, but then you left without saying anything and I didn’t wanna crowd you but—”

“Bob!” You cut in quickly, spinning around to shield the bags with your body. “Close your eyes!” He startled like someone had set off a firecracker behind him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He blurted, immediately slapping his hands over his face. “I didn’t see anything! I swear…I only saw you, not the-uh-the stuff-whatever the stuff is…”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head as one of the interns behind you adjusted their grip on a delicate gift bag.

“Here,” You whispered to them, handing off what you were holding. “Take these into the living room...And thank you again for the help, oh and make sure the box is put in my room okay? First on the right.”

“No problem.” The intern nodded, already moving with the caution of someone who had been thoroughly briefed with the other intern trailing behind.

Once your hands were free, you turned back to Bob. He stood perfectly still with his palms mashed over his face like a kid in a surprise party gone wrong–lips pressed into a worried line, shoulders a little too rigid. You let out a soft sigh, stepping towards him–knowing you scared him a bit– and reached up for his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face slowly.

”You can open your eyes now…I didn’t mean to scare you…I just have a surprise for everyone. Sorry…” You said gently, watching as his lashes fluttered open, his eyes instantly meeting yours, with that all too familiar look–soft and worried and wired, like he had been on the edge of his seat waiting for your return.

”I-It’s okay…I was just…I was w-worried about y-you. I remembered what today was after Walker mentioned to me that you took the day off…And I felt like such an idiot f-for not che-.” Bob’s words halted immediately when your fingers touched his lips–just two of them, soft but still–to quietly tell him to stop talking. His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel the way his shoulders tensed under your touch, frozen like a deer in headlights. His eyes went wide, and then slowly his cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red, blooming from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears.

It was the kind of color that told you everything without a word.

You didn’t tease him for it. You didn’t move your hand right away either.

You just held his gaze, steady and gentle, letting the silence do the heavy lifting.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, your voice barely audible above the distant murmur of the others in the kitchen. “Really.”

His brows drew together just slightly, like he didn’t believe you entirely, like he was still cataloguing every detail of your expression for proof. But your hand stayed right there between you, steadying the weight that always seemed to pile up in his chest when he couldn’t fix things, or make you feel better.

You felt him breathe in–and that tiny shift, that barely-there exhale through his nose, was the signal that he heard you. That he believed you…Even if just for now.

You slowly dropped your hand, the warmth of your fingers leaving his skin with the ghost of your touch. He blinked, like coming out of a daze, and looked like he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Okay,” He said quietly. He was still flushed, avoiding your eyes, knowing that he just had to take your word for it, even though he knew how much this day was a dark reminder of what you were most ashamed of.

He only knew this because he had seen it.

In the O.X.E vault, after you, Walker, Ava, Yelena, and Bob had barely escaped the incinerator, you had all collapsed into a breathless heap in one of the elevator areas., sweaty, and rattling with adrenaline. No one celebrated. It was too soon for that. Tension still clung to the air like smoke, and the five of you were still strangers.

You had sat against a wall, jaw clenched, blinking through the pain that was radiating from your ribs. The quietness was deafening.

Yelena hadn’t moved much. She sat cross-legged on the far end of the room, her elbows on her knees, and her sharp eyes trained on Bob–who was pacing a few feet away, muttering under his breath. His hands trembled slightly, and his voice barely registered above a whisper, like he was listing something he didn’t want to forget. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but just watching him pace in that mint green scrub set, made you tense up, there was just a feeling in those moments that something was wrong.

That’s when you noticed Yelena’s expression. Not skeptical. Not calculating. Just…off.

You pushed yourself to your feet, wincing as your ribs protested, and made your way toward her. She didn’t look up until you crouched beside her.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice low, “You hurt or something?” Her eyes didn’t leave Bob, when she shook her head at your question.

“I need you to touch him.” She whispered under her breath.

“Touch who?” You asked, shifting on your feet a bit, confused at what she was saying to you.

“Bob.” Her voice was even, but her brows furrowed. “I saw something…But I need to know if I’m just going crazy or if it was real.” You could feel yourself grow more and more concerned just by how shaken up she looked.

”Yelena…What did you see?” She shook her head at you.

”Can you just go do it? Please.” You stared at her for a second longer, then nodded. You didn’t understand it, but something in her voice had pulled up, like she was scared of something. You stood up and dusted your palms off, turning around to approach Bob, who was still pacing back and forth, taking four steps before turning and doing the same towards the other side, whispering to himself still.

Walker and Ava were still talking, strategizing how you were all going to get out, and neither of them noticed when you moved past them. Bob didn’t hear you coming either, he was too wrapped up in his own storm to even see your slow approach.

”Hey,” You said gently. He startled almost immediately, his eyes snapping to you like you had dropped him in a pot of ice cold water, “Do you mind coming with me for a second?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” He replied quickly, a reflexive panic in his voice, like he had done something bad, and he was afraid of being punished. You gave him a soft smile though, almost like you knew you needed to make yourself a little less aggressive, especially after he had seen you go head to head with Walker over something so minor you couldn’t even remember..

”I know, I just want to check something, okay?” He looked down at you with such hesitation that you honestly thought he was going to say no, but even back then he had a distinct soft spot reserved for you. His eyes were an odd shade of blue that day, and you had seen distinct little flecks of what seemed to be an off yellow peering through. Back then you chalked it up to being the lighting.

”…Okay.” He whispered. You gave him a little smile, and took hold of the sleeve of his scrub top, leading him towards the side of one of the concrete pillars, just far enough to shield you both from the rest of the group. The tension in Bob’s shoulders hadn’t eased. If anything, being pulled away from the others made him more rigid, as if you were going to reprimand him.

“You hurt anywhere?” You asked, nodding toward his chest, his ribs, his shoulders.

“No…No…I mean, not really j-just some scratches and stuff b-but I’m okay, r-really.” You squinted at him, and you could see the way his breath hitched in his throat a little, like he was nervous or trying to hide something. Your eyes scanned over his dust covered face, watching him shift uncomfortably, as if being under your gaze felt like he was being smothered.

“Mind if I check?” He looked like he wanted to say no, like he wanted to tell you he was fine again so he could go back to his pacing, but instead, after a beat of hesitation, lifted his arm up slowly to you, with his palm up.

You reached forward slowly, and grabbed his hand.

Then everything slipped.

The world around you–the gritty concrete, the stale air, the faint hum of the vault’s broken systems–all vanished in an instant, replaced by heat, light, and the faint crackle of fire.

Your body didn’t move, but your heart slammed like it was being punched. You knew this place. The ruined battlefield. The shattered husk of the Avengers compound after the snap had been reversed. Twilight bleeding across rubble. Smoke curling in the air. The air was so thick it clung to your skin like regret.

You saw them–Peter, Pepper, Rhodey. All of them gathered around the figure on the ground.

And there he was.

Your father.

Collapsed. Barely breathing. The right side of his face blistered from the energy surge of the Infinity Stones. His arc reactor flickering like the dying heartbeat it had become. His mouth was slack, his breathing shallow.

He was dying.

And you were nowhere near him.

But you had been. You remembered it clearly now, clearer than ever–how you had stepped forward when they pulled him from the wreckage. How you’d seen him, gasping for air. How you’d started walking toward him and then–froze. Stopped in your tracks.

You had walked away.

The grief you’d locked down in the deepest corners of yourself–boxed and buried for years–rushed back to the surface with the brutal weight of tidal force. Your knees hit the ground in the memory, even though your body in the vault hadn’t moved.

Your chest heaved.

Because this wasn’t a memory.

This was your shame.

The moment you’d never told anyone about. The moment even Pepper didn’t know. The moment you abandoned him because you couldn’t watch the man who raised you die.

And now Bob—Bob, who you barely knew at the time—was seeing it too. Sucked into the deepest darkest secret you had. You tried to pull away, but the memory gripped you like a vice.

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut.

Peter was crying.

Pepper leaned in and whispered something too quiet to hear.

And you–you were nowhere near him. You had your hands over your mouth, hiding behind a crumbled slab of wall, like a coward. Crying silently, too ashamed to show your face.

The memory ended like a door slamming shut.

The vault came crashing back into view. Cold. Harsh. Fluorescent.

And you stumbled backward, your hand jerking away from Bob’s as if it had burned you. Your back hit the pillar, hard, and you bent over, one hand gripping your ribs like they were splitting open. You were breathing heavily, but holding back the tears, because you needed to remain strong, you had to or else you weren’t going to get out of the vault alive.

Bob didn’t say anything at first.

He just stood there, his hand still half-raised like he hadn’t realized you’d let go. His chest rose and fell unevenly, not with fear, but with something more fragile—remorse, maybe. Guilt. A kind of stunned softness that only existed in people who had never been given permission to hold something that delicate, and now had to live with the knowledge that they did.

He didn’t look at you right away. He was staring at the spot where your hand had touched his, like it still lingered there.

“I-I’m sorry…” He whispered, which caused your head to snap up at him. You had been expecting confusion. Denial. Questions, maybe. But not an apology.

“I-I don’t know how to c-control it. I didn’t mean to do it.” He said under his breath, kind of like he was muttering it to himself. The strangest thing about it all though was that you didn’t feel angry. You should have. You should’ve been furious that he’d been pulled into something so private. But there was something in the way he looked at you now–like he understood you in a way–that made your breath catch.

“Just…Don’t tell anybody about this.” You said hoarsely, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, as you pushed yourself up off the pillar to recover.

”I-I won’t,” He said immediately, “I’d n-never do t-that, I-I promise.” He added, and you believed him.

Even though the moment passed, even though Walker barked something from across the room and Ava told everyone to regroup, even though Bob turned to leave first to give you space–you knew in your gut that it had shifted something.

And now, standing in the present day, in the quiet hallway outside the kitchen, you realized that he really did keep that promise he made all those months ago…But that just spoke to who Bob was, and who he had always been.

——————

The lights in the compound’s living room had been dimmed for movie night, the projector humming softly behind the couch as the team shuffled in with snacks in hand.

You stood in the middle of the chaotic scene of bags and boxes, arms crossed, eyeing them as they made their way over to their designated spots that they typically claimed during movie nights. Yelena kicked her feet up onto the coffee table like it was her birthright. Walker was already grumbling at Ava for stealing the corner seat he liked to stretch out in. Alexei lumbered over with a bowl of popcorn that definitely wasn’t for sharing, and Bucky, as always, took the spot by the far armrest, the one with the clearest view of the exit. Bob lingered near the back of the couch, waiting–always waiting–until he was sure everyone else was settled before choosing a spot closest to you.

You cleared your throat, but it barely registered above the chatter that was happening around you.

”Hey!” You exclaimed, and that’s when heads turned. Walker paused mid-bite. Yelena glanced over her shoulder. Bob straightened immediately like someone had called his full name in school. Even Bucky looked up, one brow arching in curiosity. The projector hadn’t started yet, but the anticipation for the movie had everyone on autopilot. Until now.

“I, uh…” You started, then immediately hated the sound of your own voice. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat, and tried again, “Before we start the movie, I need to say something.” They sat in anticipation, thinking that you were going to announce something either tragic, or shockingly happy. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you took a breath, the hush in the room now bordering on tense.

“Today’s always been a shitty day for me,” you said simply, and the honesty of it settled over them like dust. “Most of you probably figured that out. Some of you knew… or saw more than you were supposed to.” Your eyes flicked briefly toward Bob, and then back.

“But this year felt different. I didn’t want to sit with it by myself. I didn’t want to spend the day pretending it wasn’t happening just to make it easier to breathe.”

You exhaled.

“And I didn’t want to feel alone. So instead… I went shopping.”

There were a few scattered smiles at that. Ava smirked. Yelena tilted her head. Alexei made a noise that sounded like a chuckle and a snore at once.

“I got you all something. Nothing huge. Just things that made me think of you. Things I thought might make you smile. Because whether you like it or not, you’re my team now. You’re my people–my family. And I wanted to say thank you. For being here. For staying.”

You paused, blinking away the weight behind your eyes.

“For putting up with me.”

There was silence. But the kind that meant something. The kind you didn’t want to break too fast.

Then, you turned to the bags behind you and grabbed the first one.

“Ava,” you said, walking it over. “Noise-cancelling headphones and a pass to a rage room. Because, let’s be honest, we annoy the shit out of you.”

Ava cracked a genuine smile. “They better let me bring my own bat.”

“No promises.”

Next: “Yelena.” You passed her a smaller black box. “New utility belt. And some custom knives and batons I had made. Not saying you need them. But I also didn’t want to find out what would happen if you didn’t have them.”

Yelena grinned, flipping the latch open immediately. “You do love me.”

“Very much.” You replied with a smile.

“Walker,” You said, tossing him a medium-sized box that thunked heavily into his lap. “New pans, and a mini travel sized grill.”

“Thank God,” He muttered, already tearing the paper. “And they’re even better quality than the last ones.”

“Alexei.” You handed off two heavy bottles wrapped in tissue paper. “Vodka. The expensive kind.”

“Oh…Oh this is not going to survive night,” He replied, already cracking the top open.

“I figured.”

Then, you looked at Bucky.

“For you,” You said more quietly, stepping over and handing him a neatly wrapped parcel, “A metal polishing and cleaning kit, so you can stop using the dishwasher on your arm. And I got you an appointment for a bike detailing. Full job. New coat of black, too.”

He blinked slowly, surprised. “You remembered that?”

“You yelled about it for thirty minutes. I’d have to be concussed not to remember.”

He smiled. It was the small kind, but it stayed on his face longer than you expected.

You turned to Bob last, and something in your chest fluttered a little harder than you were ready for.

He was sitting upright, hands folded in his lap, trying not to look too eager, but his eyes flicked up to yours like he was bracing for impact. You walked over slowly, cradling the last item with more care than the others, and stopped just in front of him.

“This one’s for you,” You said gently, and handed him the book.

It wasn’t wrapped. No fancy paper, no ribbon–just a hardcover in a matte finish, with The Creative Act by Rick Rubin printed across the front in clean black letters.

Bob’s eyes flicked down to it. His hands moved slowly, reverent almost, as he turned the book over, like he wanted to feel the weight of it first before opening it. He ran his thumb along the edge before he finally slipped the front cover open–and there it was, tucked just inside the front page.

A handwritten note on a small square of folded paper that you had taken from Bob’s desk when you snuck in just before the movie.

Written in your slanted, slightly chaotic handwriting.

’The real gift is in your bedroom.’ Just the words alone affected him immediately.

His ears flushed red at first, before blooming down to his cheeks, and over his neck like a fire that couldn’t be put out. His eyes darted up to you, then back to the page, like he was checking to make sure if he’d read it right.

Then, with a bit too much urgency, he shut the book. Yelena was already leaning over from her seat to look at him.

”What’d you get?” She asked, her voice laced with amusement, seeing the deep blush that continued to burn on his cheeks.

”Yeah, let’s see,” Walker added, craning his neck, “It didn’t even have wrapping. What is it?” Bob shook his head quickly, holding the book close to his chest like it might be pried from him if he held it out too far from him.

”It’s…It’s j-just a book.” Everyone exchanged glances at one another, then looked over at you, then Bob.

”You’re turning that red over a book?” Ava raised an eyebrow. You watched as Bob sank slightly into himself, clutching the book like it was something far more scandalous than a hardcover on creative philosophy.

“You didn’t even open it all the way, you just opened the cover.” Yelena added.

”I-I don’t have to,” He stammered, adjusting the book in his arms, “It’s o-one Y/N and I saw at the b-bookstore a while ago that’s all.” Now all eyes turned to you. You gave a small, innocent smile.

“It really is just a book guys,” You said simply, meeting their suspicious looks with a calm ease, “Like Bob said…We saw it at the bookstore a while ago and he didn’t buy it. So I just got it for him now. No big deal.” Then you went to the couch to take up your space, looking back at Bob who was already coming to sit in the space that was available beside you. “Now…We can commence movie night.” You added, feeling Bob adjust beside you slightly, bumping his knee against yours almost like he was giving you a nudge, before settling in completely.

——————-

Eventually, everyone fell asleep in their spots apart from you and Bob.

The projector had long since gone dark, the soft white glow replaced by the quiet hush of breath and shifting limbs. The living room had become a patchwork of tangled limbs, half-eaten snacks, and drooping blankets. You and Bob sat in the warm silence at the edge of it all, knees still brushing where they’d been for the past hour.

He hadn’t opened the book again–not since that first flustered glance. But his fingers never stopped grazing the edges of the cover. He was still holding onto it carefully, like it might slip through his hands if he blinked too fast. You leaned toward him slightly, just enough so that your shoulder nudged him to get his attention.

”Hey,” You whispered. He glanced over at you, like he’s been waiting for you to say something because he was too scared to do it himself, “Wanna see your real gift now?” You asked, a small smile appearing on your lips. Bob could feel his heart pumping out of his chest as he began to overheat like a furnace.

“Y-Yeah…I mean…Y-yeah if you’re ready to s-show me.” You rose slowly, careful not to kick over a stray popcorn bowl or stir anyone from their half-snoring sprawl. Your eyes flicked briefly over the room to make sure no one was stirring—Yelena had curled into a blanket cocoon, Walker was snoring like a truck engine, and Alexei’s head had slumped against the back of the couch, drool threatening the upholstery. Bucky’s eyes were shut, but you could tell by the slight twitch in his jaw he was only pretending to sleep, which was typical for him. Turning back to Bob, you extended your hand toward him, palm open, wrist loose.

“Come on,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “Just make sure to be quiet cause if they wake up we’ll never hear the end of it.” He nodded–one firm, terrified little nod–and slid his fingers into yours. His hand was warm and clammy, but you didn’t mind the feeling. Quite honestly, you wished he did this more often, because it gave you this ease, the kind that only he truly provided. You squeezed his hand gently before tugging him up onto his feet, and he followed like you’d cast a spell over him.

You led him carefully through the living room, toes skimming across the floor like a cat, weaving between bodies and blankets until you reached the edge of the wing that led to your rooms.

The hallway was dim and quiet, the only light coming from the soft golden hue of the floor runners and the faint spill of moonlight through the high windows. You padded down the hardwood floor hand in hand, every step muffled, every breath shared. Bob stayed impossibly close to you, so close in fact that you could practically feel his breath on your neck, as if putting too much space between the both of you might make the whole moment disappear.

When you reached his door, you stopped just short of the frame and turned to him with a look that was half excitement, half warning.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to cover your eyes.” You whispered, looking up at him with one of the soft smiles you always gave him when you needed him to do something for you.

“W-What? Why?” He asked quietly under his breath, still holding onto your hand, only it was a little tighter now, probably from the nerves that were clawing away in the pit of his stomach.

“Just trust me…You won’t regret it.” Bob let out a quiet, breathy laugh–more like a whimper, really–and gave you the softest, most defeated sigh, like his heart had already left his chest and he was just trying to keep his limbs from shaking.

“A-Alright…” He whispered, leaning just a little closer to you, close enough that you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks, “Just…Just don’t let m-me trip or walk into something…Please.” You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Hasn’t happened before, and I’m not planning on letting that happen now.” You teased, before softly adding “Now…Close your eyes.” Bob obeyed, raising his free hand over his face with careful fingers, blocking his vision as if you were leading him into a sacred place rather than his own bedroom. You nudged the door open with your foot and gave his hand a gentle tug, leading him across the threshold.

You didn’t need to turn on a light.

His room always felt a little like stepping into a different plane of calm. The kind of space that knew quiet in its bones. Moonlight fell in soft silver lines across the floor through his half-open blinds, slicing the darkness into gentle pieces. The windows of his room were quite large, which was the reason why everyone assigned it to him, because if he ever had an episode and didn’t want to come out of his room, he would at least get some sunlight.

His bed was unmade, but it was clean, it always was–Bob didn’t like messes too much, and the comforter was crumpled in a way that suggested he hadn’t been able to stay still for more than a minute. His nightstand had a glass of water and a half-melted candle that still smelled faintly like lavender, which was something that he had learned calmed him through you. There were books stacked under the window. T-shirts folded too neatly on the open shelves. A jacket draped on the chair in the corner.

His room was basically a manifestation of things he picked up from you and bits and pieces of himself that he couldn’t shake. It was a perfect balance, especially when he was too scared to go to your room when you were out on missions–when he was missing you terribly.

And then–right there in the center of the room, illuminated perfectly by the soft glow spilling through the curtains–was the record player.

Matte black, sleek, minimalist. Quiet in its confidence. It sat on a low wooden console table that you had bought pre-assembled. Beside it, propped open just slightly, was a padded carrying case–and inside there were three of your records that he had constantly put on whenever he would end up in your room: Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, Last Splash by The Breeders, and Elton John’s Self Titled.

On nights like these–when you had nothing to do–Bob would come and listen to a record with you while lying on your bed. The both of you would stare at the ceiling and talk, usually it was about anything and nothing at all, that’s just how it had always been. Sometimes you guys would touch, hold hands just as a source of comfort, but it never went further than that, because neither of you wanted to possibly put the friendship in jeopardy.

Tonight would be one of those nights that you would be able to lie with him thankfully.

You looked up at Bob who was still shielding his eyes even though he was clearly trembling with anticipation. You gave the hand that was intertwined with yours one last squeeze and leaned close enough that your arms brushed.

”Alright,” You whispered, “You can open them now.” Bob’s hand dropped from his eyes like he was lifting the lid on something sacred.

And the second his gaze landed on the record player, his entire face changed.

His shoulders softened, his chest lifted like he’d just taken the first real breath in hours–and then came the smile. Wide, radiant, boyish. One that reached all the way up to his eyes and cracked something open in you.

He stepped forward slowly, like he was approaching something precious. His fingers hovered above the turntable for a moment before he crouched down in front of it, knees tucked in, head tilted with something like awe. The soft light haloed around him, catching on the strands of his hair and the curve of his jaw. You saw his lips part slightly, saw the way he swallowed thickly.

Then his sleeve came up–quick and almost sheepish–and he dabbed at the corners of his eyes with the back of his wrist. He thought you wouldn’t notice if he did it quickly but you knew his tells, and you knew when something was wrong with him. When he let out a small sniffle, you were at his side in an instant.

“Bob?” You whispered, dropping to your knees beside him, voice soft, uncertain. “Hey…What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at you at first. Just shook his head quickly, eyes still fixed on the player.

“Nothing–Nothing’s wrong,” He said quickly, but his voice cracked halfway through. “I’m just–God–this is…It’s too much.”He whispered to himself, pressing a trembling hand to his eyes again to wipe off another set of tears.

Your brows knit together, and you lifted a hand instinctively, hovering just above his shoulder but not quite touching.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just–”

“I love it,” He interrupted gently, finally turning to face you. His eyes were wet, his cheeks flushed, and there was that dazed smile again, wide and aching. “I love it so much.”

You let out a soft, quiet exhale, the kind you didn’t even know you were holding, relieved that you didn’t do anything wrong.

And then–without warning–he leaned into you.

Not cautiously. Not halfway.

Fully.

Bob wrapped his arms around you with all the care and all the weight of someone who had wanted to do it for a very long time. One arm slid around your lower back while the other curled protectively around your shoulders, tucking you against him like you were the only thing he could hold onto. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and you felt his breath hitch against your neck.

You froze for just a second–stunned by the sheer intensity of it–before you melted into him. Your arms wound around his back, your hands gripping at the soft fabric of his sweater. You closed your eyes and held him, not just because you were trying to comfort him, but also because you needed it just as much as he did.

Bob breathed in deeply, inhaling your warmth, and your sweet scent–a mixture of iris and clementines. He said you smelled like summer to him once, and he stuck by that even to this day, because it was intoxicating to him, and it was you…That’s what he liked most.

Your hand drifted up slowly to the back of his neck, letting your fingers brush through his hair with a tenderness so natural it almost startled you. He didn’t flinch, or shy away, instead you felt him melt into you just a little more, like your touch was untying the knots that were within him.

“I-I’m sorry,” He murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder, “I-I didn’t mean to cry…No one’s ever gotten me something t-this nice before.” You let out a soft huff against him, pulling back just enough so you could look at him, your fingers curling gently so you were cradling the back of his head.

”Bob…” You whispered, then smiled with a soft ache, “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m glad it means something to you…” He looked up at you with wide, glassy blue eyes, still watering slightly at the corners.

”It really…It really does…It-It means everything to me Y/N…” He replied.

A silence settled between the both of you in that moment, not awkward but charged–thick with feelings that were just cresting on the horizon. You brought your other hand up to his face, letting your thumb brush along the curve of his jaw before you dropped it to rest over his chest, right where you could feel his heartbeat drumming just under the fabric of his sweater. When you pressed a little harder you could feel the muscle flex against your touch,–a reflex from Bob.

“So…Uh…Does this mean I c-can’t come to your r-room anymore to listen to vinyls?” You raised an eyebrow at that comment, leaning in just a little so your noses were almost touching, as you allowed the edge of your voice to dip playfully.

”Actually…It’s an excuse for me to come in here once in a while.” He was taken aback by your comment, but it had hit him like a lightning bolt.

His mouth parted slightly, eyes locking with yours as if you just upended gravity. You could see when it fully clicked for him–what it meant, what you wanted it to mean. The warmth in his face scattered deeper now, but this time, he didn’t look away.

”W-Well then…I-I think you should use that e-excuse…A-All the time then.” You tilted your head a bit, a smirk coming up on your lips, realizing what he was giving back now.

”All the time hm?” He nodded, keeping his eyes glued to yours, his pupils dilating slightly to adjust more to the darkness, and to take more of you in.

”A-As much as you want Y/N...Every n-night even i-if you want.” Your heart fluttered–too loud, too strong–but you didn’t let it show except for the little smile that cracked wide across your face. You slid your hand up to the collar of his sweater, your thumb running along the thin skin on his neck.

“Well,” You said, leaning in, “Why don’t we start now then…” Bob didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because the second those words left your lips–why don’t we start now then–the air between you changed. Like it folded in on itself. Like the gravity in the room evaporated completely and every ounce of tension that had lived in stolen glances and almost-touches finally snapped tight, pulling the two of you together like you’d never really meant to be apart in the first place.

Your lips found his.

Soft. Certain. Slow at first–just a press. Just a whisper of something that had been waiting so long to be real. Bob shuddered under you, like every nerve in his body had lit up at once. His hands came up instinctively, almost blindly—one settling on your waist, the other cradling the curve of your back like he was afraid you’d vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Breathing into each other between the spaces. Your mouths never fully parted–they just shifted, adjusted, and learned. His lips moved with yours like he was starved for the taste, like he had imagined it so many times but never dared to believe he’d ever actually feel it. You felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, felt the way he tensed, and then eased, melting into it like he finally believed it was happening.

When you moved closer to him Bob let out the softest gasp into your mouth, it was barely a sound, but it still hit you like an electric current. You deepened the kiss, tilting your head as your hands slid higher into his hair. You gripped at the soft strands and gave them a gentle tug, just enough to guide his head back just a little–earning a low, breathless sound, stealing it straight out of his chest.

With trembling strength, Bob shifted, pulling you with him slowly until you were in his lap, your knees sliding on either side of his thighs, straddling him. His hands gripped at your hips, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your shirt like you were something holy to him. When your weight settled over him completely it made Bob feel like the world had gone totally quiet–like he could live in this moment and never need anything else for survival.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his as your fingers brushed his flushed cheeks. Bob’s lips were still parted, his breath coming in soft, stuttered exhales that fanned across your mouth. His hands had stilled on your hips, still holding you like he was scared to grip too tightly, like if he held too hard you might vanish again.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, voice low and weighted with something deeper than just desire. Bob nodded immediately, so fast it was almost a flinch.

“Y-Yeah,” He breathed, “Y-Yeah, anything you want–just–God, I want you to take whatever y-you want.”

You smiled, touching your nose to his briefly, before leaning back enough to sit upright on his lap. Bob’s hands stayed where they were, unmoving, as if he was afraid to go any further unless you guided him. And you would. Because this was yours to take if you wanted it–and he had already given it so freely.

Your hands slipped to the hem of your shirt, and you pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric whispered over your skin as it came off, and you dropped it onto the floor beside you without looking away from him.

Bob’s breath hitched.

You were wearing a thin, slate-colored bra–and barely anything between your body and the chill in the air. The moonlight caught on the curve of your breasts and the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, but it also revealed more than just your skin.

Faint, jagged lines kissed across your ribs and shoulders. Scars from old missions, burns, nicks, remnants of the life you’d led before this–before the Thunderbolts. Each one a story you rarely told. Some puckered. Some silver. A few newer, still healing. They caught the light and glimmered in ways they never had before–because now, someone was really looking at them. You saw Bob’s eyes flicker down over them like he was cataloging each one with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that made your throat tighten.

And then there was the necklace.

Stark tech. Thin chain. Sleek design. The pendant was small, flat, shaped like a coin and glowing faintly from within–pulse blue, soft as breath. It had been a gift from Tony. A prototype for a fail-safe, disguised as a keepsake. Only a few people in the compound even knew it wasn’t just jewelry. You never explained it, never offered context. But you didn’t move to hide it now

His eyes lifted again–tentative, trembling–and met yours. You saw the way he swallowed hard, saw the way he tried to stop himself from looking lower, like he didn’t want to disrespect the moment. But his gaze dropped again anyway, helpless against the gravity of you. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He looked stunned.

“I know,” You murmured, softer this time, like you were trying to soothe the bashful panic behind his wide-eyed stare. “It’s a lot.”

“No–n-no, it’s not–” Bob’s voice cracked as he tried to sit up straighter, his hands tightening a little on your hips. “You’re–God, you’re beautiful, and it’s e-everything I imagined.” You tilted your head to the side, a teasing glint blooming behind your eyes as you traced your fingers slowly up his arms.

”You’ve imagined this?” You asked, voice light but thick with hea, watching Bob’s entire face turn a deeper shade of red in the moonlight, like he was caught committing a crime. His lips parted as he scrambled for a respectful response, but you didn’t give him a chance. You leaned in, lips hovering just above his, your breath slipping into his mouth as you whispered, “What else have you imagined?” Bob exhaled shakily, the sound brushing your mouth. His hands flexed unconsciously on your hips as though trying to ground himself–like if he didn’t hold onto you, he might drift right out of the moment.

“I’ve…” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the heavy breathing the both of you were doing, “T-Thought about touching you…Like t-this.” He began to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, leaving a trail of heat and wetness from his lips all the way down to your neck, before he opened his mouth against you, right below your ear, placing a lingering kiss that made you push your chest against his with the heat that curled around you.

“I’ve t-though about what your s-skin would feel against m-mine,” He murmured, trembling as his lips traced the column of your throat, “And how you would sound i-if I kissed you h-here…” He added, placing a kiss against your pulse point, listening to the small sigh that escaped your mouth.

His breath was shaky against your neck as his lips lingered at the little patch of skin that thumped against his touch, his nose brushing against the soft dip of your throat while his hands remained firmly planted on your hips–too still, too solid, like he didn’t trust himself to move without falling apart.

But then, as if pulled by some gravitational force he could no longer fight, one of his hands slid upward. Slowly. Tentatively. Fingertips brushing over the hem of your bra, skimming your ribs, following the curve of your waist until they reached the delicate strap resting on your shoulder. His knuckles trembled, but his touch was impossibly gentle, as if even the fabric you wore deserved to be worshipped.

He kissed your jaw again–open-mouthed, soft–and then you felt the light tug at your shoulder as he slipped the strap down. The fabric eased across your skin with a quiet drag, and you shivered beneath it, watching the way his eyes followed the path like it was sacred scripture.

His lips returned to your skin, grazing over the hollow of your collarbone before whispering into it–so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

”C-Can I look?” You nodded.

”Yes…Of course.” You whispered. His hand twitched where it rested at the curve of your spine, and then, with a sort of hesitance that nearly broke you, he slid his hand up to the clasp of your bra, his fingertips brushing clumsily along them, missing the latch twice. You couldn’t help but smile at the fumbling, as he let out a breathy, nervous laugh against your skin, while his forehead dropped to your shoulder in a sheepish show of surrender.

”I-I swear I’m trying,” He murmured, the corners of his lips curling up. You laughed with him, soft and unhurried, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I’ve got it,” You said, reaching one arm behind yourself with practiced ease. The clasp gave one tiny click and you slid the loose straps down your arms, letting it join your t-shirt that was beside you. When you straightened back up, bare now in the soft glow of the moonlight, Bob didn’t move at first, he just stared.

Not in a greedy way, not in the way you were used to being looked at, it was with such desire and want it made your stomach turn. Like he was trying to memorize the details of your body so when he closed his eyes he’d be able to picture it.

His hands slid up slowly from your waist, palms wide, cautious, and trembling just slightly as they moved to trace along your ribs. His thumbs brushed upward–barely skimming the outer swell of your breasts–before he let out a long, shaky breath and leaned in. His lips pressed to the curve of your breast, just above your heart, and you felt the sigh leave him as he held you like you were something holy.

You curled your fingers into his hair, watching him.

“Bob…” You whispered, but it was barely a sound.

He lifted his head just long enough to meet your gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his lips already kiss-bitten and pink.

“I-I’ve imagined this so many times,” He said softly, almost apologetically. “But it never felt like this. I-It never felt this real.”

And then his mouth returned to your skin–this time lower.

He kissed across the top of your breast, then the underside, open-mouthed, so gentle you almost whimpered. His tongue barely grazed, only enough to tease, to taste. You felt the warmth of him, the way he held one breast up in his hand with delicate fingers while he mouthed softly at the other. You gasped when his lips closed over your nipple, sucking gently, and your back arched toward him without meaning to.

You slid your hands beneath the hem of his sweater, then under his shirt, fingers meeting hot, bare skin. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, pulling back from your chest just enough to pant softly against it.

“C-Cold hands,” He whispered breathlessly, grinning faintly against your skin even though his whole body was burning with heat. “Or maybe I’m j-just really warm…” You laughed again, low and soft.

“You are, I think I can even feel your blood boiling.” You joked, keeping your hands under his shirt, palms smoothing across his back and up over the planes of his stomach and chest. You could feel how solid he was beneath you–not just strong, but sensitive, pliant, like he wanted to give all of himself over to your hands, your mouth, your gaze.

And he did.

Bob went back to your breasts, now kissing them between worshipful sighs and breathless, choked words.

“You’re so…So soft,” He murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your sternum. “So warm… I didn’t know it could feel like this. I-I didn’t know it could feel this good just…Just to be close to you...”

You felt a swell of something tender and aching crash into your chest.

You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so he’d look at you. And he did with red-cheeks, wide-eyes, and lips that were still shining faintly from the saliva that coated them. And then you leaned in again and kissed him—deeper this time. Slower. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting him, letting him taste you.

His arms wrapped tighter around your waist again and this time, he moved.

“C-Can I…” He panted into the kiss, “Can I bring you to t-the bed?”You nodded against his lips.

“Yes, Bob. Please.” He stood slowly, hands steadying you as he rose, and then–without any real effort at all–he lifted you into his arms. You clutched at his shirt as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

”Jesus, sometimes I forget you’re a superhuman basically…” He laughed–nervous but proud that he surprised you with his strength.

”I d-don’t really show it off, so I don’t b-blame you for forgetting.” He murmured, as his skin continued to heat up against you. He walked the two of you the short distance to the unmade bed and lowered you gently onto the cold sheets.

But instead of climbing on top of you, he slid in beside you, curling close–not out of hesitation, but intimacy.

You turned onto your side, your body instinctively seeking him, and hooked one leg over his hip, bringing your thigh around him and pulling him in. The moment he was close enough, you kissed him again–your hands sliding up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft brown strands at the back of his head.

Immediately, he melted into the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth–barely audible, but it vibrated through your chest, and curled low in your stomach– where the tension began to build. Your lips moved against each other in a rhythm that felt like it had been written in the marrow of your bones, like the both of you belonged there together in that moment.

And then Bob pulled back–just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, eating away at the lush blue, his lips were wet and parted as he breathed shallowly, trembling slightly.

”I-I wanna feel everything,” He whispered.

Then with a move that felt bolder than anything he’d ever done, he pulled at the collar of his sweater, pulling it off. The hem dragged over his head, catching slightly on his hair before he tossed it aside, his t-shirt following soon after–slightly rumpled and damp from how hot he was getting.

The moonlight etched the shape of him–slender but strong, pale skin kissed splashed with little drops of freckles and barely-there scars. You saw the muscles move under the skin of his stomach when he breathed in, saw the way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to stay steady in a storm of want.

He slid his arm under your neck and around your shoulders, pulling you close, gathering you into the crook of his body like he needed every inch of contact. Your leg stayed hooked over his waist, your hips now pressed firmly together, heat and need blooming where your bodies touched.

His hand slid slowly down your spine, palm wide, curling gently around the dip of your lower back.

And then he kissed you again.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rushed. It was molten. Deep. Slow and desperate.

You could feel the way his lips moved with a kind of hunger that didn’t want to consume you–it wanted to worship every inch of you.

As your tongues brushed, you shifted your hips, rolling gently against the line of his thigh. His breath hitched, a surprised little gasp breaking the kiss.

And then his knee shifted.

He tilted his leg slightly between yours, giving you the perfect angle to move against him–and you did. Slowly at first. Just the press of your body rocking into his. You moaned softly against his lips as you rolled your hips again, dragging yourself along him with just the right amount of pressure. It wasn’t loud, but it vibrated between your mouths, slipping into him like a secret you wanted him to feel in his bones.

His lips barely touched yours now–just ghosting–warm and open and trembling, like he was terrified to break the moment. You breathed in at the same time he exhaled, your lips parting in tandem, and it felt like you were drinking each other in. Breath passed between you in small, shared gasps, heat curling where mouths nearly met, where words became vapor.

“Bob…” You whispered into him, and his name felt like silk on your tongue.

The air between your mouths wasn’t even air anymore. It was communion. Heat. Exchange. Like you were tethered by the sheer force of needing each other. His nose brushed yours. Your foreheads pressed together. His breath hit your tongue before it hit his own lungs.

And still–you craved Bob’s touch even more.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers skimming over his wrist before curling around it gently. His pulse jumped under your touch.

You guided his hand down until his knuckles met the waistband of your sweatpants. His breath faltered.

“I need more…” You whispered, voice raw and low–on the brink of begging, “Please…”

Bob didn’t speak at first. He just nodded, quickly like that word please had been carved into him. Then, with trembling fingers, he tugged at the tie of your sweatpants, undoing the bow with care, like he was unwrapping something sacred.

As he did, your fingers slipped down to the tie of his–mirroring him. Equal.

He froze just a little.

“W-What…What are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking like a matchstick in the dark.

Your hand kept working the knot, lips hovering over his, your nose brushing his as you breathed:

“I don’t want to be the only one being touched like this.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, jaw tightening, chest rising as he tried to hold himself together. But your voice–your need–had undone him completely. He nodded again, slower this time, gaze trailing down to where your hands were now at each other’s waistbands.

And then you both moved.

It wasn’t graceful–no art to it. Just need. Just fumbling, frantic hands pushing sweatpants down over hips, wriggling out of the fabric together in a tangle of half-laughs and sharp breaths and grazes of skin.

Your legs kicked the soft fabric off the edge of the bed and his did the same.

And then you were back–wrapped around each other again. The arm beneath your head pulled you in slowly, as his hand splayed between your shoulder blades, fingers curling slightly like he needed to grab onto something to keep him in the moment. Your thigh returned to his hip, locking yourself into him, and the kiss you shared was now pure fire. It was teeth and tongue and breath and a low, desperate sound torn straight from his throat.

You kissed him like you couldn’t get deep enough. Like you’d climb inside his chest if he let you. And he would. He would.

His hand slid up the back of your neck and into your hair as your mouth’s finally slowed, pulling back slightly to breathe. Your lips stayed apart for him, letting a whisper of space between you.

Your noses touched. His forehead pressed to yours. And when you opened your eyes, he was already staring–flushed and wide and wrecked in the most beautiful way.

Then Bob’s hand moved. Slowly. Purposefully.

He brought it to your mouth, two fingers extended–not tentative, but gently.

“Let me,” He whispered.

You nodded, opening your mouth just a little more for him. You took his fingers in without hesitation, wrapping your tongue around them, wetting them with slow, deliberate passes. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath shaking as you sucked softly–just enough to coat them in warmth.

When he withdrew, he immediately slid his hand down. Beneath your underwear.

And when his fingers found you–hot, wet, already aching for him–he moaned into your cheek.

“Oh, God…” Was all he could choke out, as he slid through your arousal, slow and careful, dragging every drop of slickness to your clit in gentle circles. You gasped–your whole body arching forward into him, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers against you.

Your hand moved too now–down his chest, over the soft lines of his abdomen–until your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. He hissed at the contact, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You found him hard and hot in your hand, thick and twitching under your fingers as you wrapped around him, stroking slow. Just once. Just enough to feel him jump in your palm.

Bob groaned, low and guttural against your skin.

You both moved together, hands working in tandem–your touch on him firm and steady, his fingers stroking you in slow circles until he dipped one inside. Then another. Stretching you gently, curling just enough to make your breath catch, your thighs tremble.

The bed creaked softly beneath you as the both of you writhed beneath each others hands

Skin to skin. Mouth to mouth. You moved together like a tide pull–rocking, gasping, fingers slipping and sliding against one another.

Bob adjusted himself slightly, pressing closer to you, before moving his fingers quicker now–they were still gentle, but there was more purpose to his movements. Like he couldn’t help it. Like your body had hypnotized him into doing exactly what you needed him to do, and his only job was to listen. The pads of his fingers pressed and curled inside you, while his thumb circled your clit with more pressure than before, and the sensation that came from this change bloomed in sharp and immediate trembles.

You gasped–high and sudden–your head tilting back into the solidness of his arm that was wrapped around the back of your neck. Your hand that was wrapped around him, stilled. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It was too much.

Your free hand flew to his shoulder, fingers digging in, nails curling against the slope of muscle. You clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the bed, to the moment, to yourself.

Bob’s breath caught as he felt you seize around him, as he watched your eyes flutter and your mouth part in a soundless moan that finally broke into a quiet, desperate whimper. His name left your lips like a secret you’d never told anyone else–torn from the center of you. He could feel it, the way your body trembled against him, the way your muscles clenched around his fingers in tight, rhythmic pulses.

And he watched.

He watched you come undone with a look of sheer awe painted across his face. His lips parted slightly, eyes fixed on yours, and then on your mouth, like he couldn’t decide what was more beautiful: the way you looked when you fell apart, or the sound of his name when you did.

Your brows furrowed with the force of it, your thighs tightening around his hips, your breath breaking apart like waves crashing on rock.

Bob didn’t stop—not until he felt you ride the last crest of it, your body softening again beneath him. And when you finally blinked, eyes unfocused and lips still parted, he leaned forward and kissed your cheek. Reverent. Almost trembling.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, gently, like he didn’t want to startle you after such a fragile, shattering moment. You shivered at the loss, and he whispered something into your skin—too soft to make out. But his breath was warm. His lips were warm.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

His hand hovered between you, the slick still glistening faintly in the low light. But he didn’t wipe it away. He just looked at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever seen.

“C-Can I take these off?” He asked, his voice thick with longing, with excitement, with the weight of everything he was holding back.

His hand ghosted over the band of your underwear, waiting.

You nodded slowly, still breathless, still catching your bearings.

”Yes…Yes please…Please just do what you want to me Bob…I’m already yours.” The moment those words left your lips, one thing inside Bob snapped like a wire that had been wrapped too tight. It wasn’t in a wild, unruly way though. No–this was quiet, controlled, but powerful.

His breath shuddered in his chest as he surged forward to kiss you harder this time, deepening it almost instantly. It was desperate but gently, like he needed to pour all the feelings he couldn’t say into your mouth, into the space between your teeth and tongue and breath.

As he kissed you, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the last barrier down slowly, reverently. His knuckles skimmed your thighs, your hips, the swell of your backside. The fabric clung slightly, then surrendered, pooling around your knees before you helped kick it away.

Bob’s hand dipped next to his own waistband, and you could feel the moment he slid his briefs off. The subtle lift of his hips. The faint brush of heat and bare skin against yours. He was pressed close now–every inch of him.

And when you looked down between your bodies, when your eyes caught the sight of him fully bared–his length flushed light red and thick, curving slightly, the tip glistening with need–you felt heat flood every nerve in your body. The moment was more than just physical. It was overwhelming. He was ready, so ready, not just in body but in soul, in the way he looked at you like you were gravity and breath and sky all at once.

Bob swallowed hard, as if he could feel you seeing all of him, as if the intimacy of being witnessed so completely was almost too much to bear.

But he didn’t look away.

Instead, he shifted–slowly, carefully–until he was over you. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of your body, muscles tense as though he were anchoring himself to the world. You welcomed him with a soft sigh, parting your legs wider to cradle his hips, letting him settle into the space that had always been meant for him–since the day you realized you wanted him like this.

He leaned down first–pressing a kiss to your chest. Right between your breasts. Then another to the slope of one, then the other. Then higher. His lips grazed your sternum, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. Each kiss was warm, slow, and sacred.

By the time his mouth found yours again, you were breathless from just the journey of it.

He kissed you with everything. Not just hunger, but reverence. Like your lips were a language he’d studied for years but only just learned how to speak.

And then–without a word–he reached for your hand.

You let him take it easily, watching the way his long fingers wrapped around yours. He brought it up gently, pressing it down into the mattress beside your head, his grip secure but soft–like he wanted to hold you in place but never trap you.

That one motion nearly undid you.

It wasn’t restraint.

It was his way of closeness. The kind that made you feel tethered to him, like your bodies weren’t just aligned–they were entwined, they were marking. Like they were made to be this close. Built for this level of intimacy for only each other.

His forehead rested against yours again. You could feel every exhale fan across your lips.

“I wanna go slow,” He whimpered, voice breaking like dusk light through the curtains. “I wanna…Wanna feel all of you…Every second of you…”

You reached your free hand up to his face, and your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, slow and tender, like you were tracing the edge of a secret only you were allowed to know. His skin was warm beneath your touch–warmer than it had ever been–and you could feel the tremble in his breath as he waited, eyes searching yours like they were the only compass he had left.

“And I want you to lose yourself in me.” You replied. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment he just breathed like your words had cracked something open in his chest. When he looked at you again, there was something new behind his expression–like awe and fear had melted into devotion.

“If anything becomes too much, you have to tell me…” He said, voice almost broken with the weight of care. You nodded, but your hand tightened in his.

”It won’t…But I promise if it does I will tell you.” He dipped his head lower again, as if he couldn't bear the space between your mouths any longer, and pressed a kiss to your lips again absorbing the softness of them, the warmth. Your hand threaded through his hair, fingertips curling at the nape of his neck, guiding him so he was pressed right against you.

And then–his hand moved down between your bodies. You felt the slow drag of his palm against the outside of your thigh, then the careful slide of his fingers as he reached down and guided himself to you. He breathed out when he felt you coat him, your wetness catching on every ridge of him as he slid himself against your entrance–once, twice, gathering all of you onto him. His body twitched with restraint. His jaw clenched. He pressed his forehead harder against yours as if the contact was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart entirely.

The moment he pushed in, your bodies stopped breathing.

Your mouth parted with a gasp–sharp and soft–as he sank into you slowly, inch by inch, until you felt your body stretch and adjust to every curve of him. Bob choked on a breath the second he felt your warmth take him in, his face screwing up in something between a sob and a moan. His forehead pressed harder against yours, like if he moved any other way he’d fall apart.

“God–oh, God…” He whispered, voice ragged and frayed at the edges. “Holy…You’re…You’re so” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He was too overwhelmed by the feel of you wrapped around him, every pulse and tremble drawing him deeper into the haze of you.

Your hand clenched tighter in his, and you felt the way his fingers locked with yours, grounding himself with your grip as he bottomed out. A low, aching sound slipped from your throat and caught in the space between your lips, and you felt it shake against his mouth as he kissed you again–slow, reverent, his tongue barely brushing yours as he tried to breathe.

“You’re doing so good,” You whispered into him, your voice like silk over fire. “Just stay right there. Just let me feel you…”

He whimpered at that, a broken noise into your mouth, like the praise undid him. He didn’t move–couldn’t, not yet at least. He was just holding himself there, buried inside you, feeling the way your body fluttered around him.

“I-It’s like…Like you’re pulling me apart,” He said, breathless. “And putting me back together all at once…”

His hand left yours slowly, reluctantly, fingers sliding down your wrist with a feather-light touch as he reached for your thigh. You felt it happen in stages–the way his hand cradled the back of your knee, the way he gently guided your leg up higher on his waist, opening you up further, angling himself deeper.

The shift made your breath catch. He slid in even further, the new position sending a wave of pressure right through your core, and you gasped into his mouth. Bob groaned–breathlessly low, lost—and his hips jolted forward once, like he couldn’t help himself.

You could feel him trembling above you, his hand still gripping your thigh like it was the only thing anchoring him to the planet.

“I need…” he murmured into your neck, voice barely coherent, “Need to be closer—need to feel all of you.”

“You are,” You whispered back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re already in every part of me.”

He rocked into you, slow at first–agonizing in its care–like he wanted to memorize every detail, every sound you made when he moved. Your bodies stayed pressed together, chest to chest, lips to jaw, gasps shared like breathless secrets.

And then you reached up.

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, until your fingers slid gently into his mouth. Bob’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and stunned–and then he groaned, low in his chest, as he closed his lips around them.

You watched him–watched his lashes flutter, his breath hitch, the way his hips stuttered forward harder now, more desperate, like the taste of you on his tongue had undone something deep and buried inside him.

You moaned at the sight of it–at the way he sucked your thumbs, not rough, but with such reverence you almost passed out, on the brink of obedience.

You slipped your thumbs from his mouth slowly, watching the glossy string of saliva stretch and catch in the moonlight like silk spun from reverence. Bob’s lips stayed parted, his breath hot against your fingers, his tongue brushing the edge of one thumb as you pulled it away. And then, without breaking the contact, you trailed the damp touch down his jaw–soft, deliberate, leaving a glistening line in its wake.

His whole body stilled.

You felt him twitch inside you, felt the sharp inhale he tried and failed to control. And then your fingers tilted his chin up.

“Look at me,” You whispered, your voice low and rich with everything you couldn’t say with words alone. His eyes lifted to yours like he was coming up for air, like your gaze was the only thing keeping him from dissolving into the moment completely. He looked wrecked–beautifully so. Lips kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed to the tips of his ears, pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes completely now. You could see every flicker of awe in his expression, every ounce of need, of surrender. You brushed your fingers along the edge of his jaw, then swept them up into his hair, pushing the sweat-dampened strands from his forehead with aching tenderness. His breath caught when you did it, like your touch alone unraveled something buried too deep for him to reach.

“You’re doing so good…You feel so good inside me, Bob.” You whispered, voice like velvet as your thumbs stroked the sides of his face. His hips stuttered forward—once, then again. A trembling gasp slipped from his throat as he sank in deeper, the pace no longer slow but no less careful. It was desperate now. Steady and aching. Each thrust felt like it was pulled from the center of him, like he was trying to carve himself into your body—leaving a part of his soul there.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room in soft, rhythmic slaps. Your breathing hitched with each one, your legs tightening around his hips to pull him in, to keep him close. You could feel how badly he was trying to keep control, how every movement was threaded with reverence and restraint. But his body–his need–was beginning to override his fear.

And you wanted that.

“Don’t hold back,” You said between soft gasps, brushing his hair back again, curling your fingers against his neck. “I want you to give it to me. Everything.”

His face twisted like he was going to cry. He dipped down and kissed you hard, and sloppily, like he was already too far gone to keep it clean. His tongue slipped into your mouth, searching for yours, and when he found it, he moaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it. He fucked you through it–deeper now, faster–his hips rolling in a way that had your head falling back onto the pillows.

“Oh God…Oh–fuck–Bob,” You whined, your nails raking lightly down his back. He gasped at the sharp drag, chasing the friction because he liked the burn it brought him.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” He choked, voice breaking as his thrusts grew uneven. “I can’t—I can’t slow down—I n-need—”

”No…Fuck. Don’t apologize you feel so fucking good. Please––Please don’t fucking stop.” You interrupted, desperate now, feeling your stomach twisting into knots. He dropped his forehead against yours again, lips brushing yours with every breath, and drove into you harder. Deeper. Each movement was more desperate, more pleading, as if his body was trying to reach some part of you his words couldn’t. The bed shifted beneath you, the frame creaking, but neither of you noticed. Not when it felt like your souls were colliding.

You felt everything building again, fast–hot and coiled and pulsing at the center of you.

“Bob…” You whimpered, your voice cracking with need, “I-I’m close, I’m so close…” His eyes met yours again–blown wide, glassy, nodding.

“I-I’m gonna come too,” He panted, and then the question tumbled out of him, desperate and ragged–“Where—Where do you want me to…?”

Your body trembled.

“In me,” You breathed, cupping his cheek again, pulling him close, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Inside me, Bob. I want to feel it dripping out of me all day tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bob cried out–barely a sound, more of a broken whimper–and buried himself to the hilt inside you. His hips stilled with a violent shudder, and then he came. You felt the heat of it, the way his body jerked as he pulsed inside you, moaning your name like it was the only prayer he knew. His arms locked around you, trembling as he held you through it.

And then–seconds later–you followed.

You clenched around him as your body went tight, your back arching off the bed, your lips parting in a soundless cry that turned into a whimper of his name. He felt you come around him, fluttering, pulsing, your legs tightening around his waist as your body shook with the force of it.

He kissed you through the aftershocks–soft and slow now. Like a thank you. Like an apology. Like he was still trying to give you more even after he’d already given you everything. Then he collapsed into your arms, chest heaving, lips brushing against your throat with such tenderness you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by how much he truly cared about you.

And then–out of nowhere–you laughed. It wasn’t loud or mocking. It was soft, breathy, and stunned.

“W-What? What did I––Did I do something?” He asked, lifting his head quickly, eyes wide and flushed with concern. You reached up, still giggling as your fingers gently swept the hair off his forehead.

”No,” You said with a smile so wide your cheeks ached, “No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just…I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.” You could see the relief in Bob’s eyes when you said it, as he let out the softest laugh. A breathless, giddy kind of noise.

”I-I was so scared to mess the friendship up…” He admitted, his nose brushing yours again, voice low and shy, “But I’ve wanted you for so long…” You nodded.

”I know,” You whispered, kissing his cheek, “Me too Bob.” He let the moment linger for a heartbeat longer, then shifted slightly, wincing as he carefully pulled back. You gasped quietly at the sensation of him slipping out, a hot flutter leaving your core in the wake of it. You tightened your thighs reflexively as you sighed, and Bob caught the look on your face instantly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned now, pushing your hair back from your forehead.

”Just a bit sore,” You admitted, cheeks flushed, “It’s been a while since I…Y’know.” Bob nodded, slowly getting up from the bed, pulling on the boxers he had on before.

”I’ll be right back–I’m gonna grab a warm washcloth, okay?” He said gently, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips, “Don’t move.” You smiled at him.

”Okay.” You whispered, watching his silhouette pad across the room and disappear into the bathroom, as he turned on the pale white light. You could hear the gentle rush of water, the sound of the towel drawer sliding open, and the rustle of cloth.

He returned a minute later, stopping at his dresser to pull a pair of boxer shorts and one of his old, soft t-shirts, before making his way back to you.

“A-Alright,” He whispered, setting the clothes beside you as he kneeled back onto the bed, “You tell me if anything hurts…Okay?” You nodded, watching as he eased your thighs open. You winced slightly at the sting, but bit back a gasp. He brought the cloth between your legs and cleaned you carefully, delicately, like every part of you was sacred. The warmth helped a bit with the soreness thankfully, so now all you felt was the euphoria of the come down.

Once he finished, he set the cloth on the bedside table, then helped ease the boxers up your legs. They were soft and loose around your thighs, a simple comfort, as you lifted your hips slightly to help. He then tugged the shirt gently over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves with a kind of tender concentration like he was worried he might do it wrong.

When it was all done he let out a soft sigh, one full of warmth and the heavy pull of contentment. You were blissed out, sore in a way that felt good. And he was still looking at you with such admiration it made your heart race.

You lifted your arms in front of you.

The motion was simple–gentle, slow, but deliberate. An offering. A request. And Bob’s entire body reacted to it like it was instinct. He didn’t say anything–didn’t need to. His shoulders dipped forward as he crawled up into your arms, letting himself be folded against your chest, nuzzling in like he was coming home. He was careful, even now–making sure his weight didn’t press too much into your legs, tugging the thin top sheet off the corner of the bed before wrapping it loosely around both of your bodies.

He laid his head on your chest, just over your heart, and you felt him exhale fully for what might’ve been the first time all night. His arm slipped around your waist, his other hand curling loosely over your ribs as he pressed his cheek to the center of you, listening.

You held him close, your arms winding around his shoulders, fingers sliding gently into his hair, brushing slowly along his scalp in lazy, thoughtful strokes. He hummed–barely a sound, more of a breath–but it vibrated softly into the shirt you wore.

The sheet was thin, barely a whisper of fabric between you and the cooling air, but you didn’t need more than that. Not when you had this. The weight of him. The heat of him. Bob tilted his face slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the fabric at the underside of your breast, where your heartbeat fluttered near the surface. You smiled at him, your hand stroking down the back of his neck, feeling the way he melted into you even further.

“Y-You’re amazing Y/N…” He whispered, “And I’m so…So in love with you.”

DOUG DAVIS MASTERLIST

COOTIES (2014)

note! mature only for language. doug might be out of character. grammar and spelling mistakes. might be cringe/ass… Y^Y

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five (?)

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter One

masterlist

the sound of feet slammed against the floor. a yell tearing the air. the city lights flashed around their eyes as they held their head in their hands. the body lunging forward with as much force mustered.

his breaths were shaky as he fell to the ground. his body trying to compose itself as he rushed away from where the KDF were attacking the kaiju. the kaiju he could not defeat. this wasn't his first time running away from the fight.

he didn't even want to be there. he just wanted to play baseball, but this is what he gets for coming back to japan to help his father. his father that wasn't even there, that lectured him, that left him and his mother alone. he hated this.

he knew it was wrong of him to run from the scene but he couldn't avoid it. he held his left arm that now stung with pain, running to his motorbike that sat hidden in the dark. 

"ken, the KDF seem to be using excessive force. shall i plot a course back to the battle?" the voice of mina rang through his ears. his eyes following drones that flew by him. "you know what, imma punch out for the night. let the KDF handle it." his smirk that graced his sharp features quickly morphed into a frown as a call from his dad showed on the inside of his helmet.

"right on time, here comes the guilt trip." he sighed. "he's already left 10 messages." mina's robotic voices spoke out as calls of his dad flashed on his screen. "nope! no thanks, i've had my butt kicked enough tonight. please silence all calls, mina. i need some me time." he said focusing on the road ahead of him.

"after your interview with miss wakita, of course." mina briefly mentioned. his figure shot up quickly while still riding. "wait! with the same lady from the press conference?" "yes ken, the same lady from the press conference. and your an hour late." he could only shift down, but looked up and sped up his bike, zooming past cars as he switched lanes like nothing.

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"i heard you're really good at avoiding hard questions." ami's voice spoke up in the dim lighted room, as kenji only slurped at the noodles in front of him. "mmm! these noodles are killer. want some?" the irony of the situation being him avoiding the statement. "i'm okay. thanks. mind if i record?" her soft voice spoke up as she lifted up phone in front of her.

"mm do your thing." he said, uncaring of the situation. "so you've had an impressive career." she started off. "gold glove. silver slugger. tea?" he spoke up picking up the kettle near him as she dismissed his offer with a wave of her hand. "and yet you've never won a championship." she responded back.

he could only put down the kettle and let out a breathy chuckle. "wow. right for the throat." "it's just an observation." she said calmly. "'just an observation.' sure. you know, there are lots of great players who never won titles." his voice laced with defense as her words. "yes. and some say you're better than all of them."

"some?" he could only chuckle while pulling his cup away from his lips. "you have seen me play, right?" he said leaning in tauntingly. it wasn't hard to deny the cockiness that came with his words. his pride was biggest feature besides the skills he boasted about.

"420 batting average. 624 stolen bases." ami responded sitting confidently, her hand lifting in the air, "but?" kenji inquired as he stretched out the word. "but personal stats don't win championships." "so my ego is holding me back?" he assumed as he poured rhetorical sauce from a cup into his noodles, all while aggravated.

"i didn't say that. and to be honest, i'm not here to discuss stats." her voice was loud, laced with confidence but slight annoyance at his behavior. "then why are we discussing stats?" "because players are more comfortable talking about stats then themselves." she remarked back.

"hey i'm happy to talk about me." "great! because i want to know why. why you avoid most interviews, why you keep your teammates at a distance, and why you left a city that loves you to..." her strong tone slowly went quiet as she saw what the man in front of her was doing.

"you know, your supposed to dip your noodles in the sauce." he could only look at her, his eyes peering out from his sunglasses. "i like doing things my way." he could only tauntingly pour the sauce into the noodles. "okay, let's remind. earlier, i asked about your mother."

the interview slowly passed by as he could only zone out from the questions being asked. he felt himself disassociate from the conversation, his whole body on autopilot till the moment he was back home. it was the one place he could relax and get away from those that pestered him.

he could only stand in the holographic life size park that mina loaded onto the room as his body moved forward, swinging his bat as it slammed against the ball. he could only watch as it shot back into the sky at his force. "yeah! that's what i'm talking about!" he yelled excited. it was short lived as pain erupted from his shoulder, reaching out to hold it from the pain.

the robotic sphere known as mina flew down, scanning his body. "ken, it appears that you have sprained your rotator cuff during the battle." the hologram of the park faded away, resulting back into the usual metal room. he walked away as she trailed behind him through the doors. "yup, that's what i get for saving lives."

"ken, it is your duty to save lives." mina said as she hovered behind him. "yeah well i prefer to save my arm and leave the kaijus to the KDF." he said as he walked towards a long couch. "you know what happens when you leave it to the KDF." he could only chuck mockingly as he sat down.

"yeah. i have a double-double, a chocolate shake, and a good nights sleep. now stop trying to be my mother." he said staring mina down. "i am as i was programmed." he only looked down after, tapping his foot against the bottom of his couch.

a cabinet popped out, almost a cooler, showing drinks inside that rolled around. he could only scoff in shock, looking up surprised. "coconut water?!? mina, did you throw my fancy fizzy drinks?" he interrogated.

"healthy choices, healthy body." he could only sigh as he opened a can of coconut water. he took a sip only to clear his throat in disgust. "mmm, taste just like a fart." he said annoyed. "ken, i wonder if you might consider taking a break."

"from drinking farts?" "from baseball." kenji could only look up at mina in shock. "give up the one thing that puts a smile on my face? sorry. no. tv please." mina listened to his command, the tv turning on in response.

the screen showcased the scene from where he had fought the kaiju from above. "more destruction today as the KDF and ultraman battles neronga. as one witness told us..." the news reporters voice quieted down as the news now showed an older lady.

"i love ultraman. always have. he's done so much good in the past." "thank you citizen." kenji told the tv as he rained the coconut water in a cheer. the older lady began to talk. "but he's been gone for months. and now that he's back, it's like he doesn't really care. i mean look at this."

kenji could only sit and stare. "i didn't even want this gig. and now everybody's coming at me." he said getting ready to turn off the tv. until something caught his ear. "but it wasn't all bad. i thought the situation was a lost cause when ultraman bolted from the scene. until someone else came in."

kenji could only stop in shock, confused at what she was referencing. "they came out of nowhere, helping to stop neronga. i don't know who it was but they were just as big as ultraman himself. thank you new hero, thank you."

he stared at the tv as it displayed scenes of someone fighting neronga. 'who was this? where were they this entire time?' another metal hero ran towards neronga, slamming into the kaijus body as they wrestled them down. grabbing its horn, they pushed it down, the kaiju roaring out as a laser shot from its mouth.

the new person summoned a shield as they jumped away from the attack. they could only crouch down in response, jumping into the air, only to land on its back. they grabbed their horn once again, small cracks showing from the force of the heroes grip.

wrapping their arms around its torso, they lifted neronga up. kenji could only watch as they flipped them over with intense strength, body slamming neronga to an already destroyed building, knocking them unconscious. the hero could only stand up proudly, only to jump away from the cameras.

the footage ended there as he stared in disbelief. "who is that? where the fuck did they come from mina?!" he yelled as he turned the tv off, his hands raking through his hair. as far as he knew, he was the only hero here. the only person that had this duty passed down to since his fathers injury. right?

mina could only stare at his face of shock, examining the situation. "ken, please calm down. letting your emotions react this way will cause you to undergo stress, affecting your strained shoulder."

he could only huff out intense breaths, slowly calming down as he moved to sit back down on his couch. 'what was that? why am i barely hearing about them now? why did they only show up after i left the scene? do they work for the KDF?' his head produced question after question, trying to think of what could have been happening.

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soft footsteps walked up stairs till they stopped in front of a door. the source of the noise raised their hand, knocking on the door there times. the door opened slightly, leaving a small crack open. the person behind the door took notice of who knocked. quickly the door opened, shushing them inside the room. "good job on finishing your task (y/n), i am proud of the progress you have made."

they could only smile softly at the praise, giving them a bow as a sign of their gratitude. "thank you professor sato. i could not have come this far if it was not for your help." the pair sat down, slowly getting lost in new tactics that they could use for the next battle.

PLEASE

doug davis x reader // cooties 2014

chapter two

masterlist

note! i got carried away writing this one. i know that there's a lot of doug and you scenes but like, that's what we're coming here for

you stood in front of the mirror in the staff restroom. "god why can't i get this fucking hairdo right, it's so simple." you mumbled to yourself as you struggled to put on the clip you carried in your bag.

it helped with keeping your hair out of your face while you ate. class had already finished, meaning that the kids were sent off to recess to play around the yard and playground that was there.

your hair never stayed the way you liked it, making you groan in annoyance. "for fucks sake! i give up." you shook your head, letting your hair fall back into place as you stomped towards the door, throwing it open angrily.

"stupid fucking cli-" an 'oomph' escaped the person you ran into, making you both stumble slightly. you looked up to see that you had ran into doug. why he stood right outside the staff restroom? you didn't know.

"doug! oh god i'm sorry, i didn't see you there. are you okay?" you asked him worriedly. "i'm okay, it was technically my fault cause i stood in the way." he said dusting himself off as you reached out to help him stand. "still i'm sorry. and what were you doing outside the restrooms?" you asked him.

"i was waiting for you." he says pointing at you with a funny groove to his hand. "me?" "yes, i wanted to see if you'd like to eat with me during lunch." he moved with a nervous bounce where he stood, slightly avoiding eye contact.

"of course doug, you don't have to ask, just sit down with me. i never have anything going on." he looks up happy to hear you say yes, looking a little more confident. "well what about when you're with the others?" "ah save it, you still can, who cares who i'm with."

he smiles. the both of you begin to walk a calm but decent pace to the teachers lounge. "can i ask a question?" doug suddenly speaks up, making you glance at him as you walk. "of course, what's up?" you ask him.

"the sky. but also, why were you yelling in the restroom? i don't mean to pry but it's not often someone hears you yell. ever." you flush slightly, letting out an awkward laugh. "that's so embarrassing, i was yelling cause i couldn't fix my hair the way i wanted to." you take out the black clip in your hand, showing it to him.

"may i?" he stops walking, grabbing the clip from you when you give him a nod. doug tensely walks behind you, his hands gently grabbing your hair in his hold. your in awe at how gentle he is, you've heard so many stories of people always pulling at others hair harshly while styling. twisting the bulk of hair, he moves it upwards, clipping the hair into place right at the middle.

you take the small compact mirror from your bag, looking at your reflection. "it's symmetrical! thank you doug!" your beaming with his help. you couldn't get your hair to not fall more to one side than the other when you tried it out earlier.

"of course. i learned from always watching my sibling style their hair. sometimes they’d force me to do it for them if they were in a rush and was in the middle of doing something else." he says walking with you once again.

"i might just have to steal you to help me with my hair from now on." you say giggling. "i don't mind that." you flush slightly at doug's words. "me either doug. me either." the walk is comfortably silent till you reach the teachers lounge.

doug opens the door for you, letting you walk in first. you give him a smile as you walk to the fridge and grab your lunch you had. it was a small container of cold pasta with tuna and corn. simple and saves you time cause it didn't need to be heated up.

you instantly took a bite with a plastic fork, feeling bliss from finally having something in your stomach. stuffing a couple of bites you watched as doug moved to talk to you, only for him to look at the window in curiosity.

"oh look, carnage!" you looked up from your almost finished meal. placing the container down and closing it, you walked to the windows next to doug with lucy and clint, your bag in your hold.

your eyes widened. "what the fuck." scenes of cannibalistic children running around with what looks like limbs and intestines. blood smeared across their faces like they had just eaten flesh covered them. flesh. flesh.

oh god it was human flesh. they ate someone. but who? your eyes quickly jumped to the gutted body on the floor. the familiar mint green shirt caught your attention. "they got vice principal simms..." you whispered in horror.

"wait- someone call the police!" lucy yelled out in the same amount of horror. "wait! i'm hitting my button!" rebekkah hit the rape button on her jacket, emitting a loud siren. you covered your ears from the loud sound.

pressure applied to your side, causing you to glance down. a hand wrapped around your waist coming from right. you look to your right to see doug already looking at you, you could only flush from his boldness. snapping out of it from the sound of lucy yelling about wade, you look back out the window, with doug's arm still left around your waist.

"they're all surrounding wade." you said in panic. yeah you didn't like him much cause of how he treated doug and everyone else but, he was still your coworker and sometimes a friend if he was feeling nice.

you eyes widened as you saw wade make a run for it. throwing a hit or two with each child that tried to swarm him. you felt bad but you couldn't help but snicker seeing wade stretch out his arm across a all too familiar girl's head, making them fly to the ground harshly.

"what's funny?" doug whispered into your ear, making you flinch in his hold. you called him closer with your hand, making him bring his ear down to you. you brought your mouth close and whispered, "that girl wade just hit hard, she was an absolute pain in the ass during my later classes."

doug made an 'ohhh' face, smiling lightly at hearing you cuss comfortably around him. looking back at the window, with the worst timing while children ate adults or one another, he still couldn't help that warm feeling that coursed through his body and brain. he could honestly malfunction just then and there by the feeling of your waist in his hold and the hot breath you blew into his ear.

he was a wreck. but right now was not the time to be feeling these confusing emotions. whatever they were, as much as he liked the way his body trembled and flushed red when near you, right now was not the time for him to become a mess.

you eyes followed wade as he ran with a swarm of children behind him. nearing the doors to enter the school building, you panicked as you saw him struggle to open it. with a couple of shakes, he threw the door open, slamming it right behind him as the blood thirsty students slammed at it, wanting to get in.

tracy stood near the door of the teachers lounge, yelling into the phone line to reach out for help. "they- they attacked the vice principal. and then they started chasing the-" he suddenly went quiet. "hello? hello? the phones are dead!" your eyes widened hearing that.

a sudden slam erupted from the room. the four of you — clint, lucy, doug, and you — jumped in unison, turning around with a scared scream. doug pulled you into a hold of sorts, almost like a hug, as you both yelled.

wade stormed in closing the door, gasping out of breath. "those kids are fast!" you all breathed out in fear, trying to calm down your beating hearts as your hand gripped at doug's arms around you. "i was twice voted running back of the year. kerry county. i should have won a third year—" he breathed out, trying to take in air. "but it was political!"

"what the fuck are you trying to say!" rebekkah yelled out aggravated by what seemed like gibberish. "do not go out there! those kids-!" wade was cut off by rebekkah yelling as kids slammed their hands against the windows of the teachers lounge.

you all yelled turning around to see them banging their tiny fists against the glass. "oh god." you said disgusted from the oxidized blood on their faces and hands. throwing your crossbody bag over your shoulder, you walked back in disgust.

"oh no, no, no, no! that's angela! angela, it's me, mr. lacey." he looked at the small child whose hands hit the glass. her stare empty yet evil. it was quiet till a quiet "eughhh..." left tracy's mouth.

"look there's dave! dave's going to help up!" outside the recess fence, pulled in a police car. the familiar bearded man stepped out, talking to the kids in front of him.

you watched as he backed away in horror, two of his fingers suddenly missing. running to his car, he began to back up in fear, only for blood to splatter against the windshield visor.

you all yelled in horror. "AH FUCK THIS! i got to do something!" wade threw his sweater to the ground, stomping angrily towards the door. lucy jumped at him, pulling his hand. "NO WADE! you can't go back out there!" wade pushed her hand off. "no let me go!"

lucy breathed out, gasping. "wade don't be stupid! you're gonna die man! they got mr. simms and dave!" you yelled out, breaking from doug's hold, moving to rub lucy's back.

wade rolled his out, opening the door. a animalistic scream came from the blood thirsty child who stood there, waiting for someone to open the door. "OH GOD ITS PATRIOT!" you yelled out screaming with the rest of the teachers.

the boy jumped on wade, his teeth snapping open and close as he tried to get closer to bite — no eat him. wade yelled as he tried pushing him off, eventually flinging the boy into the table in the middle.

you ran to the corner where the vending machine was, yelling as patriot stood back up. clint grabbed a steel cup from the ground, lunging it at patriot... only for it to slam against wades thigh. "OW! what the fuck freak!"

you watched in horror as patriot threw himself at clint, who slammed against the vending machine, falling to the ground with patriot on his body.

"he's gonna bite into your face!" doug yelled out. "yes i can see that!" clint struggled against the boy, stuck in the same predicament wade was in just warlike but now horizontally.

"HELL TEAR YOUR GODDAMN FACE OFF!" doug continued yelling making clint yell back. "you'll look like that chimp woman!" you slightly snorted, but quickly snapped out of it when you saw lucy and rebekkah team up, hitting patriot with an umbrella and sweater sleeve.

"what are you guys doing??! use something better! out of my way!" you yelled. you grabbed the tumbler that clint had mis-thrown. grabbing it by the handle, you walked up to the zombie child. with a swift movement, you slammed the tumbler upwards, striking his jaw harshly.

patriots face contorted up in shock that quickly morphed into anger. rebekkah followed behind you yelling, "let me burn his face!" with a pepper spray in her hands, she sprayed the liquid... only for it to land in clint's eyes.

clint yelled out, pushing patriot off as he rubbed his eye. you moved backwards, hiding with doug and the rest of the group. patriot stood up, yelling at rebekkah with a sort of growl in his voice.

lunging forward, rebekkah quickly moved out of the way, only for patriot to run into the female teacher behind her... the both of them slamming into an oddly conveniently opened storage unit.

the door slammed shut on the two of them, everyone yelling in fear. tracy yelled, "AHHH WHO IS THAT LADY?!" you stared with open eyes at wade who shook the door, only for it to not open. "anybody have a key?" "probably not!"

"let's go!" wade shouted, walking towards the room door to exit. everyone followed after him, clint and you stuck there shocked. "omgosh shes going to die." you said in shock, your hands finding themselves on your face. "we can't just leave her here!" clint yelled out confused. "you bet your ass we are!" lucy grabbed him pulling out with her.

a hand suddenly grabbed yours, looking up to see doug grabbed you. "it's a matter of life and death, and i rather we both live." he pulled you with him, looking constantly side to side to make sure no hungry children appeared.

"move! move!" wade threw his cap behind him in the air as you and doug stumbled behind him. a fellow teacher ran down some stairs. "follow me! i do crossfit!" he ran mindlessly towards the school doors, only to get jumped by a couple of kids. blood splatters making you all yell.

"go, go, go, go, go, go!" you all turned around running the opposite direction. suddenly a child stood in front of you making you all instinctively yell.

"RIGHT IN HERE!" lucy called you all over to an unlocked door, the rest of you rushing in after here. suddenly the same child just outside was inside looking at you all from the opposite door.

"KILL IT! I HATE IT! KILL IT!" rebekkah yelled pointing at him, making you all scream. "wait wait! he's not like the others! and i'm not just saying that cause you're the only black student in school - our differences are what makes life beautiful!" tracy yelled out, rushing his words towards the end realizing how wrong his words sounded.

"what's going on?" the kid asked. you squinted your eyes at him, realizing the familiar kid. "OH MY GOSH! ITS CALVIN!" you yelled out - you hoped he wasn't infected, you absolutely adored him.

"no no, tracy's right! calvin, you don't have a thirst for blood or anything?" lucy slowly walked up to him slowly. calvin looked at her confused. "why would i do that? i'm studying for my english test."

"oh great, how's it going?" doug asked him making you laugh. "hey i'm the english teacher here, i think i should be asking him that. good job calvin, the tests off for you now." you say smiling at him. it might have sounded stupid to worry over a test, but you wanted to give him some joy before things turned violent once again.

"fuck the test!" wade yelled out. "hey!" you glared at him. "we got to seek some higher ground!" wade walked ahead, like the natural born leader he was. all of you scurried after him, with lucy pulling calvin with her.

bloodthirsty children banged at the school doors, wanting to come in. all of you ran up, trying to block calvin's view of the grotesque scene occurring. you ran up the stairs, thankfully in the middle. each of you ran into the music room, with rebekkah in the end. "close the door! close it!"

you all breathed out in relief. "hey hey! is everyone okay?" wade looked over all of you, making sure no one was missing or hurt. you molded your head, still breathing heavily. "can we please take a moment of sil—"

a slam hit the door, making you turn to the doors window only to see shelly — what was left of her — staring at you all intensely. you quickly grabbed calvin, pulling him with you as gently as you could into the other room. "i got him y/n." tracy took him from your hold, making you give him a thankful smile.

you stood in the new room, looking around. "where's doug? doug?!" you started to panic only to see doug come through the door. "oh gosh, you had me worried. don't do that." you said hitting his shoulder lightly. he laughed, "sorry i got held up looking at something." you quirked an eyebrow up, "what was it?"

"i noticed that-" doug's words were cut off with rebekkahs yelling. "can someone explain to me what is going on? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" "i blame rap music." you pursed your lips, trying to not laugh. you don't know what it was but something about doug's random sayings always made you laugh.

"i mean i hated my teachers in school - i hated them, but i never tried to kill them." clint said shaking his head, looking around the room confused. "they got cooties. that's what they're saying that girl shelly always has. cooties. she's dirty."

you looked up at calvin, confused by what he meant. "what do you mean calvin?" you asked him. "calvin, that's not very nice." lucy said to him in a motherly tone. "no, he's right." you all looked at doug. "in- in a way." doug stuttered slightly as he spoke.

doug davis x reader // cooties 2014

chapter three

masterlist

note! making all these little original scenes with doug is so fun aaaaa i have complete control over this story >:3 need to have this man in bed and just rub his back while feeding him cheese

"what do you mean?" you asked him, perking an eyebrow up. "well, if you follow me, you'll see." doug makes a move back to the door where shelly was left at. you towed behind him, shocked to see she was still there, waiting.

"she has the raised blisters of a —" doug looks back partially, slightly sad to see no one had followed him. "... a virus." he turns around sad only for somebody to tap his back. he jumps up, only to see that it was you. "i'm here doug, you can keep explaining to me."

not able to contain the slight smile on his face knowing that you actually were listening to him, he waved you closer, making you move more next to him. "it's a bit interesting actually. look at the texture on her skin, the raised bumps are blisters, commonly found in viruses such as cold sores and fever blisters. in fact, she appears to have more blisters than the other students. she's had it longer than them."

"you don't mean-" "that's right. she was the first one contaminated." you stared at her in curiosity, taking in the rash of blisters around her lower mouth. "doug, this might be a theory but do you think this virus was consumed?"

doug looked back at you, "what makes you think that?" "her blisters are mostly around her mouth, they look like they're barely spreading to the rest of her." he looked back at her, taking the sight in.

"i think you might be right, but we must find some evidence to really know we're correct. you might just be onto something." you smiled, happy from his praise.

doug stared at shelly. "i would love to get inside your head." you barely caught onto his whisper. shelly suddenly ran away from the door. "oh, i guess she's gone to commit murder somewhere else." you snorted.

"hm?" doug raised an eyebrow at you. "you always make the most out of pocket phrases sound so casual, something about it just sounds so funny." "is that a good thing?" he asked softly. "it is, it means you make this horrible situation not so bad." you say smiling at him.

"thank you y/n, i appreciate it a lot. let's return to the others now." you nodded, following next to him back into the room where the rest of the teachers were, only to come into wade and clint fighting.

"oh you'll sneak around huh? sneak around like a little hobbit! no way! i'm taking the fight to them like a fucking orc! and that is the difference between you and me. i don't wanna scurry around the hallway like a common squirrel!" your hand instantly covered your mouth, whispering to doug, "what the fuck did we just come into?" he mouthed back an "i don't even know."

"both of you be quiet!" lucy stood up, pushing the two of them away from each other. "the only way we're gonna get anywhere is if we turn our frowns upside down and try to get along, okay?" wade and clint gave each other a side eye. "you know how i beat the terrorists after 9/11? with a positive attitude."

your jaw dropped. "it's true, she did." wade agreed with her. "oh my god. what the fuck is going on." you said quietly. you walked over to the small student chairs, taking a seat. if you were gonna die soon, you were going to die at least comfortable at one point.

you watched as clint rambled about his book, getting inspired by the three of their small talk for a plan. doug took a seat next to you, constantly moving his legs all over the place. "i miss my chair in the lounge." he said placing his chin on the palm of his hand. "i miss my bed at home." you said sighing, mimicking his actions.

"that too. i wonder if outside civilization is affected the way the school is." you perked up at doug's words. "do you think it's spread out?" you asked worried. "it's hard to say without having our phones, but i really hope that's not the case." you and doug made eye contact, evident worry in the back of your minds.

"son of a bitch! he's infected!" wade shouted, making you and doug turn towards everyone. tracy gasped, hiding behind rebekkah who tried pulling him off. "no, no, no, it's nothing." clint was instantly cut off by wade. "YOU GOT COOTIES MOTHERFUCKER! time for a quarantine!"

clint's pleads fell on deaf ears as wade threw him on his back, dragging him towards the small room you all were in earlier. doug grabbed you by your shoulders, moving you away from the door since you were closest. pushing you behind him, he examined the scene.

"stop resisting! don't resist the quarantine!" wade threw him in, slamming and locking the door on clint. "let me out asshole." clint said hitting the door.

wade walked away, looking at the rest of you. "nobody else go in there!" you looked at the window to see clint bend down, the sound of hurling coming from him. you watched as doug's breathing in front of you heightened slightly. "i'm going in." he made a move, making you quickly grab his arm. "doug no don't go in, what if he really is infected."

he looked back at you. "how will we know whats going on if i can't check him? he's the perfect living specimen. i'll be fine, okay?" you nodded your head, letting him go. he smiled reassuringly, walking towards the door. "doug don't- ugh! i don't care." wade gave up as doug opened the door, closing it behind him.

you sat back in a random chair, waiting with the rest of the group. lucy took a seat with you, a bit upset from wades doing. "hi y/n, how are you holding up?" you smiled at her, appreciative of her efforts. "i'm okay right now, as okay as i can be with flesh eating kids. what about you?"

she picked at her fingers, speaking in a soft whisper. "im okay too. scared, but okay. if i'm honest, i'm a bit confused." you looked at her, signaling for her to continue. "uhm- i don't know how to feel. i'm. getting mixed feelings about wade. and i don't know what to do or who else to talk to." you gave her a sad smile, understanding the conflict in her heart.

"what are you mixed feelings about?" you asked. "since clint has arrived, i don't know how to feel. i feel giddy and all, but i feel bad cause i'm with wade and i don't know if this is just a temporarily fling of sorts."

you look around, making sure no one — wade — was in hearing shot. "lucy, stay true to yourself, but most of all, don't lead anyone on. i know you're confused but don't play it out, it'll end up hurting all three of you. listen to your heart but to your mind as well. sometimes flings are flings and are not meant to be acted on." you placed your hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

she reached back, placing her hand on yours in a friendly manner. you always did get along with her. "thank you y/n, i'll keep everything you say in mind. i knew you were the right person to come to." she said smiling. you laughed, "me? i don't know about that, im just good at finding solutions."

lucy raised her eyebrow, confused by your words. "are you not dating doug?" you coughed abruptly, completely caught off guard. "w-what?" you stammered out. "it's cause sometimes me and wade would talk and we both thought you were dating at a point. i guess i just wanted to confirm."

"dating?" you asked making her nod he head in agreement. your face turned red, caught off by the many dating assumptions today. "you're turning red y/n." lucy leased you, making you cover your face. "shut up." you said pushing her gently, making her smile widely.

"is there something i need to know?" she dragged out the last word, leaning forward as she batted her eyelashes jokingly. "oh god. i think..." you trailed off, embarrassed. "hmm??" she was having the time of her life teasing you. "i think i like doug." your words were barely audible as you mumbled them out softly.

she gasped, almost jumping out of her chair from excitement. "you think?? or you know??" you flushed more. she was right. you could play stupid and act like you just wanted to be really nice to doug but you had fallen for his almost nonexistent charm, at least to others. to you, he was charismatic as can be.

since you had met him almost two years ago, you had always found him to stand out, and not because of how he acted. doug was sweet, funny, passionate, considerate - he was everything you had searched for in a partner. you chose to ignore it, forcing yourself to forget it cause you didn't want it to interfere but seeing wade and lucy in a relationship made you hold out to some hope.

you nodded your head shyly to lucy, making her cheer for you silently. "i'm so excited oh my gosh! you need to tell him!" she said grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. "i don't think this is really the time for me to be thinking about confessions right now lucy." thoughts of the violent children flashed through your head.

"no! it is the time." she turned to you more, "there is a chance wether we like it or not, that we might die cause of those batshit psycho children. tell him before you regret not telling him sooner. besides, it can go your way, i always thought he liked you."

your eyes widened a bit, "you think so?" she smiled, "i KNOW so, he's always following you like a lost puppy, not that it's bad, but i think he doesn't know how how to put a name to it or maybe he knows, and just doesn't know how." you smiled at her, pulling her into a hug.

"thank you lucy, i'll try to mention it when the chance is right." you smiled feeling her hug you back. your talk with lucy was cut short as a door opened, signaling doug had come back from checking in on clint.

doug began to talk, "excuse me, listen up, please. could everyone please listen up?" everyone walked over to where doug stood, listening to what he was saying. doug's eyes were closed as he shook his head, everyone watching silently. "guys, don't make me ask again. quiet, quiet, please. please be quiet!."

you cleared your throat, "we're here doug, you can say what you need to now." doug smiled, the silence interrupted by rebekkah. "none of us are talking." her voice was desperate to hear anything else.

"rebekkah! quiet please." doug yelled at her like he was scolding a child. "what the fuck doug! y/n spoke earlier and you didn't even say anything." she glared at him, annoyed at being the one called out of the two. "quiet, rebekkah! y/n is an exception."

you smiled, your face heating up slightly and rebekkah just groaned and went silent. "thank you. it is my opinion that clint has been infected with whatever these kids have out there." tracy panicked, placing his hands on his knee in fear. wade on the other hand smiled, proud he was right. "yeah i knew it!"

"but it doesn't seem to be affecting him in the same way. he's only exhibiting mild stomach flu symptoms, nausea, cramps, a little diarrhea, vomiting, mild anal leakage. but! it is my hypothesis that we are safe from him for now." doug continued, "he will not attempt to murder us or tear us limb from limb." lucy couldn't hold back the giant smile on her face.

"he just has the flu!" tracy spoke in an exaggerated way, almost silly like. "hold on a second," rebekkah started to talk, "how do you- how do you know all this?" you all looked at him with curiosity.

"well, rebekkah, i just examined his fluids with two of history's oldest scientific instruments — my hands." you all groaned in shock and slight disgust, you couldn't lie about the face of disgust you slightly made.

"don't worry," doug laughed, "i'm wearing gloves." he picked up his hands, finally in front of everyone's view of vision. "oh no you're not." tracy gagged, holding back vomit. lucy repeated what he said in shock. "oh doug-" you smacked your hand over your mouth, in shock and disgust. there was literal shit and vomit all over his hands.

"god damnit doug." wade said. doug looked at his hands, taking the sight in as he rubbed his fingers together. "i see." some began to walk away, making wade begin to speak. "it doesn't matter. listen, the sub stays locked in the closet. if he gets a clean bill of health at 3:00, then we'll talk."

doug awkwardly walked over to you. "so-" "nope nope. come here. you are not walking around with shit covered hands." you grabbed him by his tie, pulling on him as he trailed obediently behind you.

you were thankful the music room had an in class restroom for the younger students. opening the door, you pulled doug into the restroom. "i should not be in here with you." he said nervously while looking away. you blushed. "doug!" you swatted at him in embarrassment.

you knew what he was inferring, choosing to ignore your beating heart. "you have to wash your hands doug. it's not safe with all those germs, especially cause you're gloveless." he nodded in agreement.

you turned the faucet on for him, "rub all of that off your hands and then i'll give you soap so it can penetrate into the skin properly." doug scrubbed at his hands, rubbing all of the internal fluids from his wrists down to his finger tips.

you avoided the sight, not wanting to gag and make him feel bad. you knew he had no wrong intentions checking on clint, still the sight was not pleasant. doug scrubbed at his fingernails, trying to make it as 'clean' as possible. finally, his hands were bare, back to their original state. "i finished scrubbing my hands."

you smiled, grabbing the soap container and pumping a giant amount of soap into his palms. doug rubbed his damp hands together, making the soap foam up as he scrubbed intensely.

eventually he rinsed the soap off his hands. with your absolute despise of germs, you made him do this over and over again. after what felt like the fifth time, he looked up at you. "can i stop now?" you looked at him, pondering.

"wash it one more time, okay?" doug whined, tired from the same repeated movements. "but i already washed them about five times with soap." "doug just wash them one more time please. i won't be touching your hands if you don't." he instantly shut up, grabbing soap and washing his hands just like before.

he couldn't deny himself the enjoyment he felt when it came to physical contact with you. he wasn't stupid, he was incredibly smart. he'd be an idiot to not enjoy the attention you gave him. it was pure, caring, and genuine. you were the only one who was like that with him.

doug was in love with you. any intelligent and sane person would fall for your charm. with this new situation of life and death, he couldn't lose any moment with you. finally rinsing his hands, he turned to you. "can i touch your hand now, please."

you reached into your bag around you, digging into the satchel like purse. pulling out a portable bottle of hand sanitizer, you motioned for doug's hands to come forward. he did just as asked, letting you pour the antibacterial germex into his hands.

he rubbed the liquid into his hands, taking in the strong scent. you always smiled of peppermint and germex. it was a weird combo he had grown fond of. "now can i?" you smiled, nodding a yes at him.

doug grabbed your hands quickly, appreciating the warmth of your hold against his. he felt too forward but you didn't see to mind. the small room you both were in set into the back of your minds. you found yourself enjoying the brief moment of normalcy in this time of death and insanity.

you couldn't resist the temptation to hug him. and so you did. doug's breathing shook, catching him off guard. his arms wrapped around you, holding you against his frame. your head laid softly on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart that only made yours beat in response.

"i'm sorry our first hug has to happen with everything going around." you mumbled, making him look down at you. his chin now laid on your head. "it's okay, no one knew this was going to happen today, not ever." he spoke softly, his hands caressing your waist softly.

"let's just enjoy this." the both of you sank farther into the hug, just wanting to forget the troubles of the outside world. you had longed for so long to be in his hold. god you wish you could kiss him. doug longed for you the same, resisting the urge. he didn't know how you felt. he wish he knew so his heart wouldn't strain in hope and fear.

his voice… FUCK

hi. this is my first time requesting anything but i have a request to make. it's an idea i thought about while trying to sleep. is it ok of you can do Ken Sato x Singer! Reader? if you don't want to that's okay.

masterlist

this sounds like a wonderful idea! i would love to write this for you! :3 i hope you’re okay with the storyline! i’m not the very best at writing stories without long descriptions 0-0

propmt: mina sets up kenji with an interview. on the way there, he instead ends up running into up-and-coming new singer y/n.

kenji fumbled with the zipper of his jacket, the pulse of his heart increasing as he ran around his home. he had just got back home from a mission, having to deal with another hectic kaiju that destroyed the city, and with the even more bothersome KDF.

upon getting home, mina had informed him of a interview she had accepted on the behalf of gaining more publicity on kenji’s rise as a more cooperative member of the giants baseball team.

“fuck mina, how many minutes till the interview starts?” kenji basically barked out, grabbing his keys off the side table, along with his phone and motorcycle helmet. “you have about 15 minutes to get there, along with another 20 minutes on preparing yourself for the interview itself.” the robotic orb responded, hovering near the slightly tanned skin asian.

his hand raked along his hair, pushing any fly away strands back into place. “good, i should have a couple of minutes to spare then.” he said throwing on his helmet, all while making his way to his front door.

“mina, tell my dad to take care of emi, please. he should get here in a couple minutes. unlock the door for him when he arrives.” kenji says, giving mina a quick wave as he ran to his motorcycle.

he inserted his keys into the cars ignition, quickly turning the keys, making his bike roar slightly. his hands gripped the handles of his bike securely, with his foot landing in the gas pedal. it wasn’t long till he found himself driving, the cool air of the night hitting his body.

he couldn’t help but sigh from the freshness of the air, feeling a bit more relaxed about the interview. his bike drove through the city, the colorful lights of purple and blue flashing his helmets visor.

it wasn’t long till he found himself in front of the building where the interview would take place. kenji took his helmet off, fixing his hair quickly as he chain locked his motorcycle in place. he sped walked past the doors, pushing them open as his ears were filled with the sounds of people talking and rushing around.

he ran past the receptionist, too tired to deal with check ins. it’s fine it didn’t matter, they knew to expect him anyways. he’s finger pressed at the button of the elevator, his foot impatiently tapping as he waiting for the iron doors to slide open.

a ding sounded out as he quickly got on, not bothering to check if anyone was coming as his finger hastily pressed the ‘closes doors’ button. he sighed in relief seeing the doors slowly waiting, looking at his watch to see he had only about 25 minutes to prep and settle down.

his eyes flickered up at the doors in shock when a hand stuck itself into the elevator doors. the unknown had pried the doors open slightly till them automatically open. kenji couldn’t help his jaw being open from the shock of someone shoving their hand in right before it closed, almost risking an injury.

the person walked in, smacking their hands together to rid of any dust and gunk they might have picked up. you looked up, raising an eyebrow at his face. “you might want to keep that mouth shut pretty boy, a mosquito might fly in.” you say snickering slightly.

kenji closed his mouth, readjusting his posture to look a bit more carefree and relaxed. “yeah, i know that.” he remarked, kind of confused at the interaction at hand.

“did you really? it doesn’t look like you knew that sato.” you say moving to click the button for the floor you were going to, but he stood near it. you cleared your throat waiting for him to move out of the way, but he just stood there.

“you need to learn how to get out of the way.” you say as you lean over him, your body close to his, almost touching, as you tap the button to the sixth floor. “seventh floor, huh?” you ask him, seeing the lit up button as you pull away from his space.

he could help but to smell the scent of your cologne/perfume as he nodded. “yeah, seventh floor. i got an interview i have to be at in a bit.” he says, looking down at his watch to keep track of the time.

“oh really? i do too.” kenji raised his eyebrows in curiosity. he had yet to have heard of you, so his brain rummaged around for what you could be getting interviewed for.

giving up, he just decided to ask. “what are you getting interviewed for?” you turned to him, smiling at his question. “up and coming singer. the media is interested in my ‘sudden’ rise to fame, so i was offered an opportunity to be interviewed, as well as a short performance there as well.” you say, your eyes drifting up to see you were almost close to the sixth floor.

kenji wouldn’t deny his interest. it wasn’t a lie to he enjoyed music. he played it throughout his house every chance he could get. “how long have you been playing for then?”

it made you ecstatic to be asked about the journey to your current present. “i’ve been performing for a couple years now, started off by doing small gigs at a club around the corner from here and uploading videos, honestly just testing my luck.” you say fixing your shirt as you see the sixth floor coming up.

“well, isn’t that something. it’s a good thing you’re here now, practicing really does benefit people.” he said smiling. he was strange, but a good strange. the famous baseball player was undeniably attractive. you were sure you would’ve blushed if it wasn’t for your blood already pumping from stage freight.

“yeah it is. it’s good to be here, makes it fun to meet new people, just like right now actually.” you say as the elevator makes a ding sound. “well, this is my stop. i should get going. good luck on your interview!” you say smiling as you step out.

kenji watches you from inside the elevator as the doors begin to close. you wave at him smiling, to which he smiles back a bit. right as the doors are about to shut, he watches as you wink, your hand making a ‘call me’ motion as the doors close.

kenji can’t help but blush at your sudden confidence. he would have called you, but he didn’t even get your name, nor your number. he had gotten no information about you at all. he can’t help but chuckle at your attempt, finding it cute.

he watches as the elevator is almost to the seventh floor. he fixes his hair once again from nerves, walking out as the doors open. he confidently struts to the dressing room, having a couple minutes to spare. his hands find their way to his jacket pocket. his fingers hit something in them, it couldn’t have been his keys or his phone, it was too small and thin.

he raises an eyebrow as he pulls out a small card. he looks down, reading the information on it. he couldn’t help but to slightly blush as he read the writing on it.

“call me cutie - (xxx) xxx-xxxx y/n ♡”

he chuckled, smiling softly as he placed in back in his pocket. he opened the doors to his dressing room, taking a seat. a smile gracing his lips as he realized you had snuck the card in his pocket when you had leaned over him to press the button for the sixth floor.

he is definitely going to send you a text when he gets home.

it's called dying breed because i am indeed dying to breed that man

to those who follow me, i’m fully against trump and i hope none of you have fallen for this nonsense of trump saving the app. don’t be influenced. don’t fall for the propaganda.

Just in case any of you are confused, TikTok being banned and coming back not even 24 hours later with a giant "we thank President Trump" message is NOT a win. It's a huge red flag and a sign that this was a thousand percent planned.