It happened fast. One second you were teasing him in the Danger Room—“Bet you couldn’t hit a target without your visor”—and the next, a flicker of red light shot past your shoulder. Except it didn’t miss. You hit the floor with a grunt, shoulder scorched, pain blooming deep even if your healing factor already kicked in. Scott was beside you in a second, pale and wide-eyed. “Y/N—shit—are you okay?” You winced, half-laughing. “I mean… technically? Still alive. Jacket’s dead, though.” His hand hovered like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I wasn’t even aiming, I didn’t mean to—God, I’m so sorry.” You caught his hand, voice soft. “Hey. I can’t die, remember? You just gave me a really intense love tap.” “That’s not funny.” “It kinda is.” His jaw clenched. “I’m supposed to protect you. Not hurt you.” “And you do. Every day. Accidents happen, Scott.” You gave him a tired smile. “At least it was me and not, you know, someone fragile.” He pulled you into a gentle hug, still tense. “You’re getting two milkshakes out of this.” “And a new jacket,” you mumbled into his chest. “Deal.”
Bob
It happened in a blink—one second you were walking beside Bob in Central Park, fingers laced, the next your foot caught his as he stepped sideways, and you hit the pavement hard. “Oh—God, Y/N!” Bob dropped beside you in an instant, panic blooming behind his eyes. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t looking—I tripped you—are you okay?” Your palms were scraped, your knees throbbed, but the way his voice cracked hurt worse. “I’m okay,” you murmured, trying to sit up. “It’s not—” But he was already scooping you into his arms like you were made of glass. “No, you’re not,” he muttered, voice low and trembling. “How could you hurt her, stupid… idiot… can’t even walk straight without—” “Bob.” You cupped his cheek weakly. “It was an accident.” He didn’t answer, just held you closer and took off, walking faster back toward the Tower, eyes shining with shame. After arriving he ever so gently laid you in bed, like you’d break if he breathed too hard, and still wouldn’t meet your eyes. You pressed your forehead to his. “I’m fine, Bob. You didn’t break me.” “I could’ve,” he whispered. “And that’s enough to make me hate myself for a while.” You didn’t argue. You just wrapped your arms around his neck and let him hold you like you were the only thing keeping him from unraveling.
Sentry
You’d only touched his arm—trying to ground him mid-panic—and the energy lashed out like a sunflare, knocking you off your feet and sending you skidding across the rooftop. The moment it happened, the gold in his eyes dimmed. Sentry blurred across the distance, on his knees at your side before you’d even groaned. “No,” he whispered, voice trembling like distant thunder. “No, no—Goddess, what have I done…” You blinked up at him, dazed, blood at the corner of your lip. “Hey… it’s okay, I—” But he was already cradling you with such reverence it made your heart ache. His glowing hands hovered, brushing over your skin with featherlight care as if touch alone could heal you. “I didn’t mean to—never to you—how could I be so careless?” he murmured, brow pressed to your forehead. “My radiant one… my light, I nearly scorched the stars from your eyes…” You flushed hard, eyes wide. “I-I’m really okay—” “No.” His voice dropped to a worshipful whisper. “You are everything. And I… I’m fire. Chaos. I don’t deserve to touch you, not even like this.” “Sen,” you said softly—but he wasn’t Bob. Not now. He was something ancient. Divine. Crumbling beneath guilt. And yet he held you like you were sacred. Like you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. You were still blushing when he whispered, “You’re my goddess. My only peace.” God help you—you almost melted right there.
Void
He only meant to be kind. You looked tired, worn down. So the Void started the shower for you—hot, blistering, purifying. The way he liked it. He thought you’d appreciate the heat. He didn’t expect the scream. You’d barely stepped in when your voice rang out, sharp and pained—and then came the thud of you hitting the tile. He was there instantly, tearing the curtain aside, catching you as you stumbled back, your skin flushed raw. “The hell were you doing?” you hissed, shaking, clutching your arm. “It’s scalding—” His jaw tensed. “Then maybe you should’ve checked before jumping in like a fool.” You stared at him, stunned. “You started it for me.” “I started it how I thought you’d want it. I’m not psychic.” His voice was sharp, unkind—but his hands were already on you, steadying, inspecting the burns with a cold precision that trembled at the edges. “You’re not made for things like this,” he muttered. “Fragile skin. Warm blood. You expect fire and touch to feel the same?” You flinched at his words—but he caught your chin, tilting your head to meet his glowing gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not Bob. I don’t coddle. I’m not Sentry. I don’t worship.” But even as he said it, his thumb brushed your cheek with infuriating gentleness. “You think I meant to hurt you? That I wanted to hear you cry out like that?” His voice cracked, just for a second. Then, quieter—angrier, but aimed at himself: “Stupid thing. Why would you trust something like me with comfort?” You didn’t answer—just watched him crumble under his own cruelty. He leaned in, lips brushing your temple “I’d burn this world before I let anyone else hurt you,” he whispered. “But you? You walk straight into my fire and act surprised when it burns.” And still, his hand cradled you like something holy. Still, you blushed under his words. Because even in his fury, even in denial—he cared for you, even he doesn’t say it.
Bucky
You woke to thrashing. The bedsheets were tangled, Bucky’s chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead as he jerked in place—half-choked whispers spilling from his lips, lost in some nightmare you couldn’t follow. “Bucky,” you murmured, sitting up slowly. “Hey… Bucky, it’s okay, you’re safe.” You reached for him—gentle, careful—but the moment your hand touched his shoulder, he exploded upward, grabbing you so fast it blurred. Cold vibranium wrapped around your throat. You froze—his hand tightening just enough to steal breath, not break bone. His eyes were wide, feral, gone. “Bucky—” you choked. And then the world snapped back into place. His grip released instantly, as if burned. You collapsed against the pillows, coughing. He staggered away from the bed like he’d been shot, back hitting the doorframe, panic etched into every inch of him. “Oh my God—no—no, I didn’t—” You sat up, touching your throat, feeling the bruise already forming. “Bucky, it’s okay, you were dreaming—“ “I grabbed you.” His voice broke. “I hurt you.” “It was an accident,” you said softly, stepping toward him. He backed up like you were the one with the knife. “Don’t. Don’t come closer.” You stopped, heart aching. “I’m not afraid of you.” “You should be.” He looked haunted—like Winter Soldier was still inside him, claws sunk in deep. But you just whispered, “You’re not him anymore.” And slowly, slowly, his back slid down the doorframe until he sat on the floor, shaking. Still breathing. Still here.
John
It all happened in a blur. John hurled the shield at the last merc with a grunt—clean, practiced, perfect form. It hit, bounced off a metal pillar—and then crack. A sharp whimper followed. Not from the enemy. His heart dropped. He turned. You were on the ground, curled halfway on your side, hand cradling your face. Blood streaked through your fingers, dripping from a deep gash running across your cheek and split lips. “Y/N—” You didn’t answer—just whimpered again, eyes squeezed shut, breathing shaky. He froze for half a second—only half—before something in him snapped and he turned on the remaining enemies like a storm. Fists, boots, shield—no hesitation, no mercy. It was fast. Brutal. Over. The second the last one fell, he dropped the shield and bolted to your side. “Hey—hey, look at me,” he said, kneeling hard beside you. “Jesus Christ, I—did I—?” Your fingers shifted, revealing the raw slice along your cheek and the blood pooling at the corner of your mouth. His stomach turned. “I didn’t see—I wasn’t aiming for you, I swear to God—fuck, I didn’t—” “I know,” you whispered, voice cracked and trembling. He hovered there, hands out like he wanted to touch you but didn’t trust himself to. “You’re bleeding. God, I hit you with the shield, I—” “I know,” you whispered again. And finally, his hand landed gently on your back, grounding himself. Voice rough, barely holding it together, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I swear I’ll never let that happen again.”
Logan
You thought you could sneak up on him. Logan sat by the fire, eyes closed, lost in some rare moment of peace. Quiet as a cat, you crept closer, ready to surprise him. But then—his head snapped up. The faintest sound had reached his super-sharp senses. Before you could blink, claws slid out with a metallic shing—and grazed your throat. You gasped, hand flying to the sting. A thin red line bloomed where his claw had nicked you. Logan’s eyes widened. “Shit, Y/N. I didn’t mean” You held up a finger, brushing the cut lightly. “It’s okay. Just a scratch.” His jaw clenched, shoulders tight. “Damn it. I’m sorry.” You smiled, stepping closer, voice soft. “You’re not a monster, Logan. You’re just… always ready.” He grunted, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the stealthiest.” You laughed, wincing as the cut stung. “Guess I’m terrible at sneaking.” He smirked, claws retracting with a final click. “You’re lucky I’m not more violent.” “You’re lucky I love you anyway.” He shook his head, a rare warmth in his eyes. “Hell of a way to say it.”
(Would yall like one where they hurt you during bedroom time??)
Summary: You separated yourself from society years ago. With just a simple graze of the skin, you could see what someone was afraid of the most. At times, it became too much. After some convincing though, Bucky talked you into moving into the New Avengers Tower. While there, you met Bob, who wasn't that much different from you. Things changed, however, when you discovered that you could touch him.
Pairing: Bob Reynolds × enhanced!f!reader
Word Count: 9.1k
Warnings: Anxiety, anxiety meds, panic attacks, self-deprecating, angst, hurt/comfort, and Bob being inside his head
A/N: Phew, this is the longest one-shot that I have ever written haha. I looove Bob so much and loved creating the reader-insert Terror. There's a chance that this might have a part two, but we'll see... I hope you all enjoy!
Main Masterlist | AO3
××××××
A knock on the door. A minute of silence. Another knock on the door. Maybe if you don’t move, they’ll go away.
“I know you’re in there.”
You rolled your eyes, groaning as you slammed your book shut and pushed yourself up from your cozy position on the couch. He really picked the best times to drop by.
Unlocking the door, you opened it to find Bucky Barnes leaning against the frame, an annoyed expression already plastered across his face. That had to be a new record. You hadn’t even said anything yet.
“Can I help you?” You muttered as you turned back into the room, heading towards the record player that was softly playing Litvinovsky. It was hard to appreciate the relaxing melodies when a hundred-and-something-year-old was about to give some kind of lecture, though he swears he’s not the lecture giving type.
Bucky rolled his eyes as he stepped inside your cabin, pulling the door closed behind him. “Nice to see you, too,” you heard him grumble under his breath.
After turning the record player off, you fished a lighter out from a drawer and headed back to the couch. You sat down, leaning forwards to light the candle that sat on the coffee table. “Hope you like sandalwood. It’s all I got left.”
Sitting in the chair that sat diagonally from you, Bucky watched you carefully. You could feel his eyes raking over you, silently checking for any sign that something was wrong. “How’ve you been?” His voice was clear from any annoyance now, making you deflate slightly as you leaned back into the couch, tucking your feet under you.
The question lingered in the air for a moment too long for Bucky’s liking. You didn’t look physically hurt, but he knew better than most that the worst pain always came from inside. Living in isolation wasn’t exactly the best medicine for that either.
Eventually, your eyes locked with his. “I told you that you didn’t have to keep checking on me, Bucky.” If he didn’t know you, he would’ve missed the plea in your voice. Leave me alone.
“Besides,” your voice was lighter now, like a switch was suddenly flipped, “I’m sure Congressman Barnes has more important things on his agenda than keeping a promise for his old best friend.”
He raised a brow, scoffing. “I take it you haven’t watched the news?” Bucky questioned, dropping the subject for now. He’d work his way back to it later, when you were ready to talk.
Opening the book you were previously reading back up, you shook your head. “Me and news do not mix. News leads to bad news and bad news leads to me being anxious and me being anxious leads to, well, you know.” A lightbulb went off in your head then, making you disregard the book yet again.
Bucky watched as you jumped up from your seat and scurried towards the bathroom. “Speaking of, I need more chill pills!” You called out to him.
Once you returned, you showed him the bottle, shaking it to prove that you were, in fact, nearly out. “Remind me to call for a pharmacy delivery before you leave,” you sat the bottle on the table before sitting back down. “Which should be soon, by the way.”
A sigh left Bucky’s lips, forewarning you that something was coming. Something not good. “I actually came here to ask you something,” he got up from his seat to sit next to you. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, a movement that had become second nature.
“I’m not going out with you,” you quickly spat out, earning an airy chuckle out of Bucky.
“You wish,” he quipped back. Then the amusement that decorated his features left as soon as they appeared. “I want you to move into the tower. Avengers tower. With me… and a few others.”
You sat quietly for a moment, his request registering in your mind as you pieced it all together. He had to be joking. But he wouldn’t joke about something like this. Not to you.
Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you gathered your thoughts. “Avengers? I thought… aren’t you supposed to be on Congress?” You finally asked, still reveling in the new information. The Avengers haven’t been a thing in years. Maybe you should watch the news.
Bucky ran a hand over his face as he leaned back into the couch more comfortably. “That is… a long story. I’ll tell you all about it on the way there.” He draped his arms on the back of the couch, blowing a raspberry.
It still didn’t make sense. “Are you asking me to be an Avenger?” Not even Steve offered that position to you. He knew better than that.
Bucky shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no. No,” he clarified as he sat back up. “I just thought that being around a group of screw ups would do you some good.”
He had meant for that to be a joke, but judging by the look on your face, it didn’t land. “I can’t.” You shook your head, curling in on yourself. Why would he ask you to do that when he knew?
“You can’t keep living like this. No one can go as long as you have without some sort of human interaction. And I don’t count.” Bucky tried, doing his best to make it sound lighter than it was. He needed you to be okay, and it would be so much easier for him—and you—if he could always have his eyes on you. A monthly visit wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. He could see it on your face, even when you tried to hide it.
Tears tried to escape from the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them slip, not in front of him. “I can’t, Bucky. You don’t understand. If I hurt someone—”
“You won’t. I’m just asking you to move in, not to be part of the team. I just thought it’d be better than living all alone out in the middle of nowhere.” Bucky’s hand inched towards you, wanting to provide reassurance, but decided against it for your sake.
There was a reason why you isolated yourself. To stop seeing the visions. To prevent yourself from hurting someone that didn’t deserve it. That’s why Steve set you up here, because he understood. You never could grasp why he wanted to help you, or why he sent you Bucky when he left. It was better off that you stayed here.
But you missed being around people in some kind of capacity. Even when you could no longer touch them. You missed being a part of life.
You missed not being so lonely.
“Okay.”
As soon as your feet hit the ground, you already regretted your decision. Your chest tightened as you stared at the tower before you, your breathing picking up slightly.
You need to leave. You need to leave. You need to leave.
“Hey.” Bucky’s voice pulled you back into the real world. He lightly placed his hand on your back, offering a reassuring smile. “You’re okay.”
Taking a deep breath, you nodded. You could do this. You could do this.
You followed Bucky inside, eyes observing the place as you went. It was weird to think that the original Avengers used to stay here all those years ago. Now you lived here. Steve would’ve gotten a kick out of it.
The elevator’s doors opened, beckoning the two of you inside. This was really happening. You just couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not yet.
Once the doors opened back up, you were met with a large living area, complete with its own bar. The view outside looked breathtaking just from the elevators. Your internal scale was starting to tip towards the good thing side.
Not even a few steps out of the elevator, a large man came out of nowhere to greet you. “Ah-ha! You must be the ‘Terror’ Bucky has told us about!” He welcomed, a cheerful smile on his face.
With a furrowed brow, you shot Bucky a look, who was already pinching the bridge of his nose. You haven’t heard the ‘Terror’ name in years. Hopefully, the name wouldn’t stick… again.
“I am the Red Guardian,” the man continued with grandiosity, oblivious to the sudden tension that sat between your shoulders. “But you may have the privilege of calling me Alexei Shostakov.” Before you could react, he grabbed your hand to shake it.
Standing in a crowd of people and you are just one of them. Nothing more. None of them know who are, or what you have done for them. You will never mean anything to them.
You will mean nothing to your little devushki.
A small gasp left your lips as you pulled your hand away from him. “Sorry,” you were almost breathless, pulling your sleeves down to cover your hands. It had been a while since you last dealt with the visions. You almost forgot how they felt. “I’m not really big into touching.”
Bucky’s eyes were glued on you, waiting for the bomb to go off. You just offered him a small smile, letting him know that you were okay. You could handle it.
Alexei raised his hands up in the air. “My apologies, Miss Terror.” Then his face lit up. “Come, come! You must let me introduce you to the others.”
“Maybe she should settle in first, Alexei.” Bucky came to your rescue. He was already filling out his role as overprotective big brother. You were grateful, but you shook your head.
“No, I’d like to meet everyone. I’m sure Alexei can take me to my room afterwards,” you said, surprising Bucky. His eyes raked over your face, making sure that you were actually good with it, before the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he nodded in understanding.
After the okay from the boss, Alexei took you on a grand tour of the tower. He showed you the bar, the balcony, the lab, the area with a huge sectional couch with a nicely sized TV, the training room, and a whole lot of other rooms that you’re not even sure what to call.
In the training room was where he introduced you to none other than John Walker, who was accompanied by a woman named Ava Starr. You had heard about Walker’s trial run as Cap from Bucky, and it took all your willpower to not call him the “Great Value brand Captain America.” Bucky said he was still sensitive about it. Ava seemed cool though.
You cringed as Alexei introduced you as the Terror, both John and Ava sharing a look of amusement. Yeah, looks like the name was sticking.
A word barely left your mouth before Alexei was already dragging you to the next room, his eagerness evident in his movements. He took you into a gaming room, which had an impressively sized air hockey table that was currently occupied by a man and woman.
The woman, you find out, is Yelena Belova, who happened to also be Alexei’s daughter. She gave you a friendly wave before turning her attention back to the game at hand. The feeling from earlier returned to your chest as you watched the way he looked at her so lovingly and proudly. His devochka.
“And this here,” Alexei gestured to the man on the other side of the table, thankfully taking you out of your head. “Is the great, the all-powerful… Sentry!” His voice boomed, making you flinch slightly.
Yelena scored, giving the man a chance to speak. “Actually, it’s, uh, it’s just Bob,” he corrected with a shy smile. “Sentry was kind of a… one-time thing.”
You smiled back at him. “Hi, Bob,” you greeted warmly. He waved awkwardly, opening his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by Yelena continuing the game.
Alexei, once again, lead you out of the room, going on about how you must see the kitchen. You couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself as you listened to him blather on about something with a Wheaties box. He’s a little overstimulating, you admitted, but it was also like a breath of fresh air. You didn’t realize how much you missed this; being around people.
As you rounded the corner, your thoughts were interrupted as you collided with what practically felt like a wall of muscle. “Careful.” You recognized the voice as Walker’s as he steadied you, your hand accidentally grabbing onto his bare arm for balance.
You are nothing like him. You are a failure. Everyone sees you, not as America’s hero, but as the man with the bloody shield. Lamar is dead. Olivia is gone. Your son is gone.
You will never see them again.
“Stop!” The cry left your lips as you ripped yourself away from Walker’s grasp. John backed away from you, raising his hands in surrender.
“Okay… What’s her deal?” John questioned, looking to Alexei with a raised brow. The tightness in your chest returned, stronger this time. You closed your eyes, willing it to go away.
“She has a ‘no touching’ thing, I don’t know,” Alexei whispered with a shrug. John’s lips formed an ‘o’ as he nodded, giving you a once over before carefully walking around you to continue on his way.
When you opened your eyes, you took a deep breath, your nails digging into your palms. “Alexei, I would like to go to my room now. Please.”
He did as you asked with no hesitation and took you to where Bucky had already set you up. Alexei informed you where his own room was should you need him for anything and bid you farewell.
You wasted no time in locking yourself inside, your back hitting the door as you slid down it to the floor and took out your anxiety meds. The visions were worse than you remembered. It was hard to believe that there was a time where you could handle them. Well, at least better than this anyways. Maybe you over did it today. You needed to ease yourself back into it. Yeah, that’d help.
Hopefully.
For the next few days, you stayed locked up in your room, much to Bucky’s protest. The reason you were here was so you wouldn’t be alone anymore.
Time was what you needed right now. Bucky understood that. Baby steps.
Now, you were currently laying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling while Mozart played soothingly in the background. You wouldn’t admit it to Bucky, but you were starting to get stir crazy. Your eyes glanced over to the clock, reading 2:12 AM.
It was late. You should just go to sleep. That would be the healthy thing to do.
But everyone else was probably already asleep. Leaving the tower to just you.
Slowly, you crept out of your room and headed towards the common area. There seemed to be no sign of life as you journeyed through the halls all the way to the balcony.
Below, you could hear the nocturnal life of the city. The sound was soothing to your ears as your eyes took in all the lights, the night air causing goosebumps to rise across your arms despite the hoodie you wore.
As you stepped back inside, something on the upper level caught your eye. Curiosity took control of your body as you made your way to it. It was just a lounge chair and side table that was accompanied by a small stack of books, a desk lamp, and some leftover trash.
You sat down, leaning back into it. It was comfy. Your hand reached out to turn on the lamp, the soft glow adding to the cozy atmosphere. The light brought your attention back to the books.
After scanning through the titles, you picked the one that looked the most promising. You thumbed through the pages, inhaling its comforting scent.
“That’s a good one.”
A yelp escaped your lips as you jumped, the book falling to the floor. Your head snapped up to look at the source of the voice, meeting Bob’s own startled figure.
“Sorry!” Bob apologized before cringing at the volume of his voice. “Sorry,” he lowered it to a whisper now. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Letting out a breath, you shook your head. “No, no, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up,” you laughed awkwardly.
Bob scratched the back of his neck, forcing a laugh that rivaled yours in awkwardness. “I couldn’t sleep. So, I came out here to… get my mind off… things,” he admitted with a barely-there smile.
You nodded. “This is a comfy place,” you commented, your eyes drifting down to the book that laid abandoned on the floor. “Sorry for throwing your book though.” You leaned forward to reach for it.
“Oh, no, I got it,” Bob told you as he bent down to grab it at the same time. You barely had time to react, inhaling a sharp breath as you braced yourself when he touched your hand.
…
Nothing.
No vision. No fear. Nothing.
Your eyes locked onto where Bob was still touching your hand, who was too scared to move as if he’d somehow hurt you otherwise. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you seeing his fear? This hasn’t happened not even once since you got your powers. How was this happening?
“Are… you okay?” Bob questioned, slowing retreating his hand as his eyes glanced around, looking for what was causing you to act like this suddenly.
The question brought you out of your trance, blinking up at him. “I…” You stood up abruptly, making Bob flinch in surprise. “I’m pretty tired. See you around.” Bob didn’t get a chance to respond before you were already out of sight.
Did he say something wrong?
Something wasn’t right.
That had never happened before. Why did it happen now? It’s never been something that you could control; always against your will.
Your mind had been spiraling ever since Bob touched your hand last night. No one has been able to touch you without their fear taking over your every sense since you were thirteen. Why could Bob?
Was he somehow the only exception?
Or did it go away?
You shot up on your bed. Could it have? Is it just gone? Did you just “grow out of it” or something?
There was only one way to find out.
Quickly, you went out into the hall, eyes bouncing around for a possible target. It was about midday, so there was no telling where everyone was, if they were even home.
Luckily, you found Ava rooting around in the kitchen for something for lunch. You haven’t spoken to her, not unless you count Alexei’s embarrassing introduction. She’d have to do.
“There it is,” you announced yourself as you reached for your coffee mug that just so happened to be in front of Ava. As you went to grab it, you pretended to trip over your feet and grabbed onto Ava’s hand for support.
Pain.
So. So. Much. Pain.
“Hey!” Ava pulled her hand out of your grasp, looking you up and down with a glare. “Watch it.” Without another word, she walked out the kitchen, leaving you with her pain.
It still worked. You saw her fear. It was a long, long shot, but you couldn’t help but feel at least a smidge of hope that you were right. That only left one answer.
Bob.
It didn’t take you long to find him. He was just sitting on the sectional couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels, nothing holding his interest for long. Nerves clawed up your throat as you thought about what you should say. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Where was Bucky when you needed him?
“Hi, Bob,” you called out, maybe just a little bit too loudly. Nonetheless, it got his attention, a small smile gracing his lips.
“Hi,” Bob greeted, laying the remote down. He watched you as he waited for you to continue, his eyes uncomfortably glancing to the TV as the silence stretched out.
Might as well get it over with. “I was wondering, um, if I could ask you a really weird question?” You rounded the couch, making sure there was enough space between you before you sat down.
Bob slowly nodded, so you went on. “Can I,” this was so stupid, “can I see your hand for a second?”
He blinked at you for a moment. “…why?”
“I just need to see something really quick. But you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable.” You scooted back some, giving him more space. He had to think that you were crazy by now.
After a minute of hesitation, Bob offered out his hand and you took that as a yes. You gently grabbed it, again bracing yourself.
Nothing. Again.
How?
“Do you… see anything?” You asked, looking up at him to search for any signs that you accidentally turned it against him. That was the only other explanation, but his eyes were normal. Not black.
Bob shook his head. “No…” Then his expression completely shifted into something else entirely as his hand tensed in your grip. “Do you?”
It was your turn to be confused. Why would you be seeing something?
“No.” You shook your head, noting how he immediately relaxed at your answer. Nothing was making sense now. Your focus shifted back to your hands. Something inside you didn’t want to let go, longing for this closeness that you never thought you’d get again.
He was the one that pulled away. “Are you okay?” His voice held the kind of concern that you only heard from Bucky these days.
You let out a sigh. “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. Why you did, you don’t exactly know. Everything was so confusing right now.
Again, before Bob could get a word out, you were gone. What was going on?
It wasn’t until the next night when Bob saw you again. He was in the kitchen, having finally found the motivation to do the dishes; it was time that he did something useful.
You didn’t register him at first as you padded in, your eyes scanning around for something. When they finally landed on him, you paused. Bob wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between the two of you, but he did his best to not let his mind wander. That was why he was busying himself with the dishes.
“Have you seen Bucky?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. Your mind seemed to be preoccupied. It probably had something to do with what happened yesterday if Bob had to guess.
“They went to go meet Val I think.” Bob answered, using his forearm to brush some of his hair out of his face, his hands wet with water and dish soap. “Yelena said they’d be back later.”
Nodding, he watched as your eyes drifted to the still half full sink. “Do you want some help?”
The question took you both by surprise. You looked shocked that it came out of your mouth. After the whole weird hand thing, Bob thought that you were trying to avoid him for some reason. He’s been trying to figure out what he did wrong, but maybe he was just overthinking everything. Again.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” He scooted over to give you some room. “I wash, you dry?”
You offered him a small smile, rolling up your sleeves as you slid in beside him. The two of you silently fell into a rhythm after that, with him washing off the grime on the dishes—a few of them a bit concerning—and you drying and stacking them. It felt… nice.
The sound of the clanking dishes filled the silence between you, creating a soothing atmosphere. Bob couldn’t help but spare a few glances your way, a question on the tip of his tongue. Hopefully he wouldn’t screw it up.
“So… why do they call you Terror?” Bob tried his best to make it sound nonchalant, forcing his gaze to stay on the stubborn spaghetti sauce stain on one of the plates.
When you didn’t answer right away, Bob internally kicked himself. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.
However, you just let out a small huff, shaking your head. “It’s just some stupid code name SHIELD had for me,” you shrugged. “Steve would call me it as a joke and Bucky just ran with it.”
Bob’s brows raised up in surprise. “Steve as in the original Captain America, Steve?” He didn’t know how you knew Bucky, but he certainly didn’t think it was because you were mutual friends with the Captain America.
You nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, he… helped me. Got me out of a bad situation.” Bob noted as your face fell for a brief moment, your movements nearly non-existent on drying the dishes as you contemplated something. “I… When people touch me, I can see their fears. And if I wanted to, I could paralyze them with it.”
The realization kicked in then, Bob’s mind going back to you holding his hand. He swallowed hard. “Did you—”
“It doesn’t work on you,” you cut him off immediately. Your eyes locked with his. “For some reason, I can’t see your fear. I haven’t been able to touch anyone without seeing their fear since I was thirteen, not until I met you.” You turned away, picking back up where you left off with the dishes.
“Oh,” was all Bob could manage to say. It was the only thing he could think to say. That was why you were acting weird. You didn’t hate him after all. A tension he didn’t realize he was holding fell away from his shoulders. That was good.
Neither of you said anything for the next few minutes, letting your words sink in fully. The atmosphere felt a bit more suffocating now, more questions hanging in the air. What was Bob supposed to do with this information? What were you going to do with it? This was why he didn’t do the dishes.
“Your turn,” you finally spoke, tossing your dish towel on the counter. “Why did Alexei call you Sentry?” You spared him a glance before taking the stacked dishes and started putting them up in the cabinets.
A nervous chuckle bubbled out of Bob’s throat. “It, uh, it’s a long story.” He tried to brush it off, but when he went to hand you another bowl, he found you staring at him expectantly. Well, it was only fair he guessed. “It was the name of the serum that gave me... godlike... powers,” he swallowed.
It was your turn to be surprised. “Okay, that sounds awesome,” you laughed. Bob tried to laugh with you, but it came out sounding more like he was being strangled, which you picked up on immediately. “Why was it a one-time thing?”
Bob grabbed one of the hand towels to dry his hands and to have something to fiddle with as he sighed. “I can’t be Sentry without risking a... darker part of me... coming out.” There was no way in hell that he’d chance that happening again. Not if he could help it.
You reached out then, your hand hesitating just before you could touch his arm. He didn’t dare to move, not wanting to scare you off. Eventually, you lightly grabbed his arm, giving him a comforting squeeze. Though, Bob felt that the action was more for you than it was him.
Before you could say whatever was on your mind, the sound of the elevators opening stopped you, followed by the cacophony of annoyed and exasperated voices. You pulled your hand back, pulling your sleeves down.
Bob’s gaze never left where your hand used to be.
Bucky noticed that there was something going on between you and Bob over the next couple weeks. On the days when you decided to leave your room, you always seemed to gravitate towards Bob. It was nice to see you finally engage with someone that wasn’t him, but he couldn’t help but feel that something else was at play.
He knew better than to say anything. God, did he know. As soon as he said something, you would cut yourself off. You didn’t like for anyone to get too close. It was a self-preservation tactic that you had developed years ago, before you even met Steve. No one could blame you though.
Besides, you looked… happier. And he couldn’t risk screwing with that.
You knew Bucky knew something was different. It was in the way his eyes would narrow every time you started laughing at whatever with Bob, the subtle smile that would form across his lips. You were grateful he didn’t question you about it. When you felt it was right, you’d tell Bucky about your discovery. Until then, it was just a secret between you and Bob.
Your relationship with Bob grew stronger every day. There was no fear aching in your bones while you were near him. You didn’t have to worry about not touching him or accidentally hurting him. It felt like a breath of fresh air.
By befriending Bob, you also vaguely befriended Yelena by association. She was funny and surprisingly kind. There was a special platonic bond between her and Bob, something that you could obviously see that Bob held close to his heart. Whatever they went through, it welded them together, which you secretly admired.
Throughout the next few weeks, you learned a lot about each other. Bob told you about his past addictions and how they drove him to signing up for the clinical trials. He also told you about how he’d have a high followed by a low and how he’d have a lapse in his memory afterwards. You confided in him about how everyone’s fears would seep into your skin as if they were your own, how you were terrified of accidentally hurting someone because you couldn’t always control it. He felt like your missing twin flame.
Neither of you had a good relationship with your parents, though you’re sure he won that one. Bob said very little about them when it was brought up, but you could feel that there was a trauma there that would unfortunately be forever forged into his soul. It made you feel better about your situation.
Bob was so confused by you. Nothing could’ve prepared him for you. You were just so… different than him. But you were also just the same. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Somehow, you understood how his mind worked. You just met each other over a month ago, but it felt like you’ve known each other for years. It was almost scary how well you could read him. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. For your sake, he hoped he was wrong.
Then today happened.
The two of you were playing with some Uno cards you had brought with you at the kitchen table. Everything was going fine, even as you laughed when you drew another draw four card—he was sure you were hiding them up your sleeves at this point. You had told him Bucky refused to play this with you anymore and he was starting to see why.
Suddenly, Walker came in with Yelena hot on his tail. They were bickering on about something that had apparently happened while they were away on a mission. From what Bob could gather, Walker didn’t do what he was supposed to, and Yelena was calling him out on it. He could believe that.
It was when Walker abruptly turned on his heel to put his finger in Yelena’s face that Bob started to feel something stir in his chest. His fingers gripped onto the cards tightly as he tried to block it out. They fought all the time. No one was going to get hurt. It was okay.
But it was the fact that they were in the kitchen. Yelling loudly. It was too familiar.
His breathing picked up slightly, his hand trembling as he placed down a card. He wasn’t even sure if it was the right one. Everything started to blur, making it difficult for him to focus on what was happening.
He was okay. He was okay. They were okay. They were okay.
Just as he was about to stand up, a hand on his knee stopped him.
“Can you take this somewhere else please? We’re in the middle of something.” You briefly glanced up at them, drawing some cards from the deck.
Yelena turned to glare at you, but her retort died on her tongue once she saw Bob’s face. Bob attempted to give her a small smile to let her know that he was okay, but she saw through it immediately. Walker was still going on about whatever, which just made Yelena roll her eyes as she yanked him out the room.
It wasn’t until their voices were out of earshot that you finally let go of his knee, giving him a final squeeze before straightening up the deck as if nothing happened. Bob just stared at you, confused. How did you do that?
You just smiled mischievously at him, placing down a draw two.
“Uno.”
“This is a bad idea.”
Bucky sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re the one that wanted to do this.”
Your eyes glanced between him and Walker. “I didn’t know you were bringing him in on it.”
“I can happily leave,” John spoke up, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. So, Bucky was making him be here. Yeah, this wasn’t what you had in mind.
“No.” Bucky gave him a pointed look. “He’s here because you already know what he’s afraid of. That way, it can’t catch you off guard,” he explained.
You shook your head. “That doesn’t make it any easier,” you scoffed. It would still feel the same, no matter how many times you touched him.
“Do you want to build up your tolerance or not? Because I need to know right now.” Bucky stepped closer to you, searching your eyes for just the slightest hint of hesitation. There was no going back once you started.
After a moment, you took a deep breath and nodded. You needed to do this. Might as well be now.
Taking a step back, Bucky readied himself and nodded at Walker, who just rolled his neck. This was so not what you had in mind.
“Let’s see what you got, Terror.”
Bucky approached you first, swinging at you with his right hand, which you easily dodged. He was obviously going easy on you, but you didn’t have it in you right now to point it out. It was probably for the best. You were rusty after all.
He started throwing punches as he tried to close in on you, making you back up as you continued to dodge. You only ever went on the defensive, not confident in your own swings. Besides, when you can paralyze someone with fear, it’s not really necessary.
It caught you off guard when he grabbed your wrist as you tried to block a hit. You sucked in a breath as you stumbled in his grip.
They’re still out there, waiting for you to get comfortable before they strip your soul again. You are a weapon. You will be nothing more than the Winter Soldier. Your past will catch up with you eventually and you deserve it. Steve was wrong. You are…
Who are you?
You kicked his abdomen, forcing him to let you go. Your fingers twitched as your breath caught in your throat for a moment. You already knew Bucky’s fear, but it didn’t stop it from startling you. But you were okay.
Which made you cocky.
Bob was on the way to his reading spot when he heard a commotion in the training room. His curiosity took over him, making him peak his head in to see what was happening. He was surprised to find you sparring with Bucky and Walker, especially with both of them making skin on skin contact with you.
Something stirred in the pit of Bob’s stomach when Walker grabbed onto your arm, swinging you towards the wall. A surge of protectiveness flowed throughout his body. Did they not understand what them touching you did to you? Surely Bucky did.
However, before Bob could say something, you pushed off the wall and elbowed Walker in the ribs then kneed him in the chin. Bob’s eyes had to be popping out his head. He didn’t know you could do that.
The smirk that adorned your face at your accomplishment made something else entirely stir in Bob’s stomach, spreading up to his chest. God, he hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt.
With your attention on Bucky, Walker took the opportunity to rush up behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Try getting out of this one,” he muttered, his annoyance evident in his tone and how tight he held you against him.
You’ll never see your son again. You’ll never be his father.
You squirmed under his grip, even trying to step on his foot but to no avail. He wasn’t letting go of you. You were trapped.
Olivia wants nothing to do with you. She was the only person that would ever love you.
Something squeezed your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. Your vision spotted as panic set in. Panic was not good.
“John, let her go!” Bucky shouted, rushing towards you. Or was he moving away? Was that even his voice? Your consciousness faded in and out.
You could feel yourself slipping out of control. That couldn’t happen. Please, don’t let it happen.
It would be better for them if you were dead.
Oh no.
A blackness clouded over your eyes as you continued to thrash in Walker’s arms. Before you could stop it, the fear you felt in your chest seeped into Walker, his own eyes turning an inky black.
With a sharp intake of breath, Walker let you go as his arms fell numbly to his sides. You fell hard and scrambled away from him as far as you could manage.
Everything was still going in and out as you tried to steady your breathing. This shouldn’t have happened. Why did you agree to this?
Bucky crouched down next to you, trying to make eye contact even as your eyes darted around the room frantically. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re okay. I need you to snap John out of it. Can you do that?” His own voice held an edge of panic that only added to your own.
Shutting your eyes tightly, you took deep breaths to calm yourself down. You counted backwards in your head, doing your best to keep your heart from exploding. If you didn’t get a grip, John’s own heart would give out soon from fear.
Someone calling your name softly made your eyes snap open. You made eye contact with Bob, who hovered a few feet away from you. How long had he been here? That wasn’t important right now. You had to help John.
Inhaling through your nose, you did your best to even out your breathing. You just needed to calm down a little bit. That was all.
Shakily, you pushed yourself off the ground, grabbing onto the wall for support. Bob went to help you, but Bucky held out his hand to stop him from getting any closer. You nodded, letting him know that you could do it on your own.
You made your way to John, whose eyes were still black with silent tears slipping out the corners of them. After taking one more deep breath, you placed your hand on his cheek. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes slowly going back to normal as your own went black once again. His fear flooded throughout your body, but you refused to let go.
Gasping, John finally snapped out of it and fell away from your touch, hitting the ground. His eyes darted around the room as he struggled to breathe, his hands trembling from the residual fear that still lingered in his system. Bucky dropped down next to him, checking him over.
Tears pricked at your eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized as you took a step towards him. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t.” John managed to spit out, raising his still trembling finger towards you. “Get the hell away from me!”
Bucky tried to calm him down, telling him it was just an accident, but not even you could bare to listen to him. The tears fell then as you made a break for it, pushing past Bob on your way out. You could hear him call your name again, but you couldn’t risk stopping now.
The walls started closing in on you as you tried to get to your room quickly, your air once again coming in short gasps. Once you thankfully made it to your room, you didn’t even bother to close the door behind you and headed straight to your meds. Your hands trembled while you attempted to unscrew the lid, only to realize it was empty. You were so preoccupied with everything else going on that you forgot to remind Bucky to renew your prescription.
Your legs wobbled as they carried you to the bathroom, your hand reaching for the sink to turn it on. You splashed some water on your face, both the sensation and sound of running water helping you breathe better. But it wasn’t enough.
You turned the sink off before turning to the shower, stepping in to it. The faucet squeaked as you turned it, the cold water immediately causing a shiver to run down your spine. When the water warmed up enough, you slid down the wall and sat on the shower floor as the water soaked your clothes. You continued to take deep, shaky breaths as you held your knees to your chest.
There was a knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. The last thing you needed right now was a “comforting” lecture. You tried to ignore it, but there was another knock. “Go away, Bucky.”
A moment of silence followed, making you think he actually listened until he spoke. “It’s Bob.”
Lifting your head, you stared at the door. What was he doing here? He saw what happened. He knew what you could do, how you could hurt people. Yet he was here.
“Come in.”
Bob slowly opened the door and stepped in, closing it softly behind him. His eyes danced around the room before they finally landed on you. For a moment, you just stared at each other, not saying a word.
It took you by surprise when he stepped into the shower and sat down next to you. His hair stuck onto his forehead as his clothes soaked up the water. He still didn’t say anything, just sat beside you while you tried to regain control.
You focused on his face, doing your best to read him. His brows were furrowed together, looking like he was internally piecing together what he should say. The crease between his brows shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was, especially right now.
Bob turned to look at you then and offered his hand out to you. Tears pooled in your eyes again as you stared at it for a moment. When you eventually took it, a sob wracked your whole body. He gently pulled you into him, his arms holding you tightly as you sobbed into his shoulder.
The last time you were able to be held by someone felt like an entire lifetime ago. It was obvious to yourself how much you craved skin on skin contact, but you didn’t anticipate this reaction out of you. Bob didn’t let go, his hand gently stroking your back. He out of all people knew how much you needed this.
“You’re okay,” he whispered. You gripped onto him like he was your lifeline. Maybe he was.
He continued to hold you as water poured on top of both of you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but you never wanted to let go.
You never wanted to let Bob go.
And he was okay with that.
Bob was flipping through a magazine while sipping on a milkshake in his cozy corner when Yelena stopped in front of him. He didn’t even get a chance to greet her before she started talking.
“I found a cool book thrift store you should totally take your girlfriend to.”
A warmth crept up Bob’s neck. “I-I, she… She’s not my… S-she’s not my girlfriend,” he sputtered, closing his magazine. Why would she say that?
Yelena smirked. “Yet, you knew who I was talking about.” Bob’s face had to rival Alexei’s suit by now. “I overheard her saying she was feeling suffocated to Bucky. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure if me being out on the street is a good idea.” He hasn’t left the tower since they all moved in. There were too many risk factors. What if something happened? What if the Void got too loud? What if he hurt you?
Snapping fingers suddenly appeared in front of his face. “No, no. Do not do that. We do not say bad things about ourselves, only nice things. Remember, Bob?” Yelena chastised. He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he looked down at his lap.
She bent down until she was level with him in the chair. “Look, Bob. I think it’s nice that you and Terror girl get along good.” Yelena offered him a small smile before her face morphed into one of mock seriousness. “But if you make me have to watch you two make puppy dog eyes at each other anymore, I’m going to throw up.”
Bob chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. Yelena took that as a good sign and patted his knee. “Now get out of here,” she gestured with her head to the side.
With that, Bob got up and went to find you. He fiddled with his fingers as he practiced in his head what he was going to say to you. It shouldn’t be hard. There was no reason that he should be nervous. It wasn’t like it was a date... or was it?
That thought made him stumble over his feet. Was it a date? No, it was just asking a friend to go hang out. It didn’t have to be more than that. But what if you say no?
What did Yelena talk him into?
He eventually found you in the game room attempting to play Galaga while Alexei was going on about something beside you. You just hummed along to his storytelling, occasionally asking a question to clarify something without ever taking your eyes off the screen. It wasn’t until Alexei interrupted his own story to acknowledge Bob that you looked away and locked eyes with him. Well, it was now or never.
“H-hi,” Bob sputtered, cringing at himself. This was stupid.
You smiled softly at him. “Hi, Bob.” Your smile caused a surge of confidence to flow through him. He could do this.
“I was... There’s an old bookstore that I wanted to check out,” he started, wringing his hands. “Would you like to go with me?”
A flash of hesitation danced across your features, making Bob feel bad for a moment. He should’ve considered how you felt being in public, especially with what happened with Walker last week. His fear of rejection was immediately replaced with guilt. But before he could backtrack, you beat him to it.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Let me go change.” You turned to tell Alexei to remember where he left off and that you’d pick up with him another time before leaving, smiling at Bob again as you went by. Now his heart was beating faster for a different reason.
Once you were gone, Alexei enthusiastically gave Bob two thumbs up. “About time!”
The bookstore was somewhat small, but it just added to the comforting atmosphere. There was classical music playing in the background as the smell of old books filled the air. It was like a slice of your own personal heaven.
Neither you nor Bob said much as you both flipped through books, slowly adding to the stack that was starting to build up. Luckily, this was going on the New Avengers card, even if Val didn’t know anything about it.
You occasionally glanced over whatever book you had in your hands to look at Bob, who had that crease between his brows again as he read the back of some historical book. Something changed between the two of you after that night in the shower. Well, at least something changed within you. It was hard to tell how Bob felt about it. He never brought it up afterwards, but to be fair, neither did you.
“I never thanked you,” you found yourself saying aloud as you put your book back on the shelf.
Bob looked up at you, the crease even more prominent between his brows. “…for what?”
With a shrug, your hands began to fiddle with your sleeves. “For the other night. I just… thank you.” You then gestured to the store around you. “And thank you for getting me out of there.”
A light red dusted across Bob’s cheeks. “I, uh, I get it.” His eyes casted downwards. “You would’ve done the same,” he tried to shrug it off.
Silence fell between you again for a moment before you turned to look at your collective stack of books. “I think we got enough to tide us over for a bit,” you laughed softly.
He laughed with you. “I think you’re right,” he agreed, placing the book he had back on the shelf before picking up your stack. You followed him to the counter, your eyes drifting to the streets as he paid for them. There was a good amount of foot traffic tonight.
“Ready to go?” Bob turned to you with the bag of books in his hand, gesturing to the door with his head. You nodded and went to hold the door open for him on your way out.
The night had brought a light chill with it, making you thankful for your extra layers. People were rushing along on either side of you, sometimes bumping into you as they passed. Luckily, none of them made contact with your skin, but it still made you feel a little overstimulated.
When someone knocked into you again, you inched closer to Bob, bumping your shoulder with his. He glanced over at you, shifting the bag to his other hand. “You okay?”
You gave him a thin-lipped smile in return. “I’ll be fine.” If anything, you were just getting annoyed. They could at least excuse themselves.
He nodded, turning back to face the street ahead. You continued to stay close to him, your hands accidentally grazing each other’s as you walked. It was hard not to think about it when his skin barely touched yours. You didn’t realize how touch starved you were. Or maybe it was just him.
After your hand hit his for the third time, Bob interlocked your hand with his, giving it a comforting squeeze. You felt your heartbeat pick up as you refused to look at him. From the corner of your eye though, you could see Bob’s face turn a light shade of red.
Bob still held on to your hand, giving himself the excuse that he was just helping you feel better. There was definitely no underlying reason. Not. At. All.
Up ahead at a bar, Bob watched as a big group of young men loudly busted out the doors and started to quickly head your way. Bob swiftly pulled you off the street into the nearby alleyway, caging you between him and the wall. The group ran by, laughing and shoving each other around.
Your breath caught in your throat. Bob’s warmth immediately enveloped you, making something flutter in your stomach. His head was turned as he watched the group go by, giving you an up close view of his side profile. He was beautiful. You’ve never been this close to him before, not like this. What happened in the shower was one thing, but this was totally different. You could feel his chest move against you as he breathed heavily.
“That was…” Bob whipped his head to look at you, but froze once he realized how close he was. “…close.” The warmth of his breath spread across your face, making your own hitch.
Everything seemed to slow down around you as you both stared at each other. Bob’s eyes glanced down at your lips, and you suddenly really wanted him to kiss you. This couldn’t be happening. You were friends… right?
Slowly, Bob’s head dipped down, hesitating just before his lips could touch yours. You met him the rest of the way, capturing his lips with your own. A fire bloomed inside you, heat spreading through your chest when Bob deepened the kiss even more. Your hands grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. His lips were soft against yours, careful not to hurt you, but eager all the same.
The bag of books slipped from Bob’s grasp as he reached up to cup your cheek, running his thumb across your jaw. He wanted to be as close to you as possible. When your own hands drifted up to his neck, a small moan escaped his lips. God, he could get high just off you.
But when there’s a high, there’s always a low.
Suddenly, Bob pulled away, panting heavily. Your hands fell from his neck, your brows furrowed in concern. “I-I think…” He tried to catch his breath. “We, uh, we should probably get home.”
Before you could say anything, Bob backed away from you, picking up the bag as he did so. He awkwardly gestured for you to go ahead of him. You stared at him, confusion and hurt evident in your body language.
You eventually stepped back onto the street, hugging your arms tightly against yourself. Bob followed behind you, keeping a safe distance all the way back home. He internally cursed himself, but it was for the best. For your sake.
After all, Bob destroyed everything that he touched.
── their reaction to accidentally hurting you (nsfw edition)
Scott
His hands were everywhere, mouth hot on your skin, and the tension between you had finally snapped. But in the heat of it, he gripped your side too tightly, fingers pressing into a sore spot from training with Logan. You gasped, body jerking, and Scott immediately froze—eyes wide, panic creeping in. “Did I—? Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” You shook your head, breath shaky. “It’s okay, just a bruise.” But the guilt was already on his face, his touch retreating like he’d burned you. “You shouldn’t have to flinch when I touch you,” he murmured, voice low and rough with emotion. You cupped his cheek gently, grounding him. “You didn’t mean to. I trust you.” Something in him softened, then shifted—his gaze darkened with quiet need. “Let me make it better,” he whispered, lowering you back against the sheets. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take my time.” And he did—hands reverent, mouth patient, as if he needed to remind both of you that you were safe in his arms.
Bob
Bob had you spread out beneath him, his mouth working you over like he was starved for the taste of you. Every stroke of his tongue, every curl of his fingers pushed you higher, over and over again until your thighs were shaking and tears pricked your eyes from the intensity. He didn’t let up—not when you gasped, not when your hips twitched away from his mouth. “One more,” he murmured against you like a prayer. “Just one more for me, sweets.” But your body couldn’t take another. Overwhelmed, breath hitched, you whimpered, “Red… Bob—red.” He stopped instantly. Pulled back. Sat up with panic flickering through his eyes. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, already brushing hair from your face, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. You nodded, panting, voice weak but steady. “I’m okay. Just… needed to breathe.” He exhaled slowly, holding your hand like it tethered him. “Thank you for telling me. Always stop when you say.” After a long pause and the quiet thrum of comfort between you, you smiled up at him, flushed and soft. “I’m okay now.” Bob gave you a slow, reverent look, “Are you sure sweets? We don’t have to continue.” “Yes Bob. I need you.” He leaned in again, his voice low and full of heat. “Then let me make you fall apart gently this time.”
Sentry
Sentry moved above you like a force of nature—his body glowing faintly, muscles trembling with restraint that was slowly slipping. He was lost in you, groaning your name like it was the only word he remembered. But his thrusts grew rougher, deeper—just a little too much—and the heat in your core blurred into a sharp ache. You reached up, gripped his bicep. Once. Twice. Three times. His entire body froze, gold-lit eyes immediately snapping to yours, expression shifting from bliss to wide-eyed guilt. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered, breath caught, hands already shaking. Before you could speak, he was easing out of you, murmuring apologies as if every word came from his soul. “You’re not meant to be handled like that. You’re sacred.” He kissed every inch of skin he’d held too tight, lifted you gently into his arms like you were something fragile and divine. Within minutes, he’d drawn a warm bath—scented, calming—and settled you into it, kneeling beside the tub as he stroked your thigh with trembling fingers. “I lost myself,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll remember to never hurt you, my goddess.” And even as your body still ached faintly, all you could feel was love wrapped in golden light.
Void
His hand was tight around your throat, holding you down as he thrust into you with an intensity that bordered on brutal. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t gasp—your body arching beneath him, stars dancing at the edge of your vision. The Void was lost in it, in you, in the way you took every snap of his hips like you were made for it. But your nails clawed weakly at his wrist, not for balance—this time for air. It wasn’t until your eyes fluttered, lashes trembling, that he stilled—jaw tight as he suddenly registered the faint slack in your limbs. His hand released instantly. You gasped, coughing, lungs greedy for breath. He stared down at you, chest heaving, guilt masked with a sneer. “Tch. Look at you,” he muttered, wiping a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Fragile little thing. Can’t even take what you asked for without falling apart.” But there was something softer under the words, in the way he shifted you into his lap, holding you as you calmed, tucking your face to his chest. “I didn’t mean to take it that far.” His tone was sharp, but his grip was steady. Possessive. Protective. “You don’t get to die on me, you hear?” A pause. Then quieter—almost tender: “Next time, use the signal. You breathe when I say you stop, not when your body does.” And yet, his lips still pressed to your temple. Still grounding. Still yours.
Bucky
Bucky had you beneath him, hips rolling slow but deep, skin damp, body trembling under his. But it was your lips—God, your lips—that he kept coming back to, crushing kiss after kiss between ragged breaths. He moaned against your mouth, thumb stroking your cheek as if you’d disappear if he stopped touching you. Then he bit down—too hard. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed across your bottom lip, and you whimpered into his mouth, flinching. He pulled back instantly, eyes wide with panic. Blood welled where he’d bitten you. “Shit—baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped, thumb brushing your lip as if he could undo it. “I didn’t mean to—I just… I get carried away when it’s you.” You shook your head, still dazed, breathless, lips swollen. “It’s okay,” you whispered, even as the sting lingered. He leaned down again, gentler now, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, like penance. “Your lips,” he murmured, voice rough, almost reverent, “they’re my favorite part of you. When I kiss you, it’s the only time my head goes quiet.” His hips never stopped moving, but slower now—less desperate, more devoted. He cupped your face like it was fragile. “Next time I bite,” he said against your skin, voice low and teasing now, “I’ll ask first.”
John
John had you bent forward, you on your hands and knees, his hands gripping your hips, fucking you deep and steady from behind with that familiar mix of control and hunger. He reached for your hair, wrapping it around his fist to pull you back into his chest—something he’d done before, something you liked. But this time, the yank was too hard. You yelped, sharp and startled, and the sound cracked through him like a gunshot. He let go immediately, pulling out so fast you nearly lost your balance before he caught you, already flipping you gently onto your back. “Shit—shit, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t think—are you okay?” You blinked up at him, breathless but not in pain, hand reaching to cup his jaw. “John, I’m fine. Really.” But he was already sinking down beside you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish. “No, we’re done. I’m not risking hurting you again,” he muttered into your hair. His heart was racing against your back, muscles tense even as he held you. “You trusted me, and I got too rough. That’s not happening again tonight.” You sighed, cuddling into his chest as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, murmuring half-apologies and promises like he needed to say them more than you needed to hear them.
Logan
Logan had you pressed up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips tight as he moved inside you with a fierce, relentless rhythm. His breath was hot on your neck, voice low and rough as he murmured, “You feel so damn good. Don’t stop.” You threw your head back in the moment—too hard—and hit the wall with a sharp thud. He froze instantly, panic flashing in his eyes as he cupped your face, searching for any sign of pain. “Fuck, baby, did I hurt you? Tell me, yeah?” You shook your head, breathing steady despite the sting. “No, it was me. I moved too fast.” Logan’s grip softened, but he kept you close, voice deep and soothing as he kissed your forehead. “God, don’t scare me like that. You’re not fragile, but I swear, if you get hurt on my watch, I’m never letting it go.” You smiled into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. “I’m okay. Just… keep going, please.” He did—slow and steady, words low and full of promise: “I got you. Always.”
sometimes home is a person team - bob reynolds x witch!reader
ᯓ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 bob reynolds x witch!reader / protective!john walker x witch!reader / the void x witch!reader / bucky barnes x everyone ig
ᯓ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 After a couple months of silence and emotional distance, the reader finally opens up to John about her past. When Bob asks to speak with her, John hesitates but ultimately lets her decide. In a fragile but healing moment, the reader confronts both Bob and the Void, receives a long-overdue apology, and begins to forgive — not just them, but herself. Wrapped in quiet comfort, she begins to rebuild her trust, reminding everyone that sometimes, home is a person..
ᯓ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 Found Family · Angst · Emotional Recovery · Hurt/Comfort · Light Humor
ᯓ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 PTSD, past trauma, references to torture/abuse/rape (non-explicit but emotionally heavy), dissociation, emotional shutdown, intense guilt, comfort-heavy content
John Walker opened his bedroom door half-asleep, planning to go make coffee — and immediately tripped over something large, solid, and alive.
“Jesus—Bob?!”
Bob Reynolds was curled up on the hallway floor like a kicked dog, his eyes half-open, hair wild, hoodie rumpled.
“You slept here?”
“Sort of,” Bob mumbled. “Didn’t want to leave.”
John blinked at him, then offered a hand and hauled him to his feet. “You look like hell.”
“I think I might be dying.”
“You’re not dying, you’re just an idiot.”
Bob gave a weak chuckle, then fell quiet. “How is she?”
John sighed. “She’s… okay. Still scared. Nervous. But she slept.”
“I heard what she told you last night,” Bob said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I was gonna leave, but I couldn’t make myself. I didn’t mean to—”
“Bob.” John stepped closer, jaw tight. “Stop.”
Bob froze.
“You wanna talk to her?”
He nodded slowly.
“Yeah, well… hell no.”
“What?”
“You think a little sad puppy face gets you back in her life just like that?” John said sharply. “She broke down thinking you pitied her, man. She told me what happened to her in that place and thought you’d hate her for it.”
“I don’t—!”
“I know you don’t,” John snapped, not yelling — but the edge in his voice was sharp. “But you hurt her. Maybe not on purpose, but you did. And she’s still figuring out how to breathe again. You don’t just get to waltz in with an apology and fix it.”
Bob’s face crumbled. “I just want to try.”
Down the hall, a door creaked open. Bucky leaned out, hair messy, coffee in hand.
“You done yelling?”
”I wasn’t yelling,” John muttered.
Bucky cocked his head. “Could’ve fooled me. Walls are soundproof, but I’ve got ears like a bat.”
Bob started to slink away, but Bucky stopped him. “Not you. Stay.”
John sighed. “Buck, don’t—”
“I’m not saying let him in. I’m saying let her choose.” Bucky stepped forward. “You trust her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then let her decide.”
John hated that it made sense. Hated it more that it came from Bucky, of all people.
With sighed through his nose, John ran a hand down his face, and turned back to his room.
Inside, she was sitting on the floor near the window, a blanket with Alpine in it covered her lap. She looked up, slow and guarded, eyes dulled with exhaustion.
John approached carefully and crouched beside her.
“Hey, sweetheart. Bob’s out there. Wants to talk.”
She didn’t react.
“But listen to me,” he said gently, hand resting near hers, his pinky lying over her own. “This is your decision. Not his. Not mine. I need you to say yes or no — out loud. A shrug doesn’t cut it.”
She stayed still.
“I’ll stay right outside the door,” John added. “I won’t let him hurt you. You’re safe. Always.”
After a long, long pause, her lips parted.
“…Yes.”
“Yeah?” John leaned in. “I need a real answer, hon.”
She nodded again, a little stronger. “Yes.”
He squeezed her hand, kissed the top of her head, then stood and exited the room.
Bob was still there, pacing like a nervous golden retriever.
“She said yes,” John said. “But if she so much as flinches, I’m dragging you out myself.”
Bob swallowed and nodded.
He entered the room slowly, careful not to make noise.
She was still facing the window, Alpine purring softly across her lap. She didn’t look at him.
Bob knelt on the floor, far enough to give space but close enough to speak.
“I don’t deserve this,” he started, voice cracking. “Being here. Facing you. But I need to try.”
She didn’t move.
“I let you get hurt. I let the Void show you something that should’ve stayed buried. I thought I could protect you by staying away, but that just left you alone. And that’s on me.”
Still nothing.
Bob’s voice broke. “I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now. You think I pity you? No. I admire you. You survived something that would’ve destroyed anyone else. And I let you believe you were broken.”
Her fingers curled in Alpine’s fur, the white ball of fur purring as if trying to comfort the witch.
“I’m so sorry I left you alone in that,” he said. “I can’t undo what happened, but if you want me to stay away forever, I will.”
She whispered, barely audible: “I want to talk to him.”
Bob blinked. “The Void?”
She nodded. “Please.”
He hesitated. But her tear-filled eyes were impossible to resist.
“Okay.”
The air chilled.
Bob’s light faded, in fact all the lights faded — gold draining to grey — and from the shadow emerged the Void.
The shape wore Bob’s face, but the energy was cold, ancient, sharp.
“I did not intend to harm you,” the Void said, voice low and echoing. “What you saw… it was not my doing. It was a reaction. You were too close. I was… called.”
“By what?”
“By fear,” the Void admitted. “Not yours. His. He feared you would die. And when I rose, I saw what was done to you. It was… grotesque.”
He stepped closer, then paused.
“I show others their fears. Twist them into madness. But yours… yours were memories. Truth. And I did not know how to hold them.”
She whispered, “You didn’t want me to see that?”
“No,” he said, genuinely. “You are not like the others. You are not meant to be broken.”
And with that, he faded — smoke trailing — and Bob returned, blinking hard, breath unsteady.
He sank to his knees, eyes wet.
“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked. “I will beg. On my knees. I’ll do anything.”
She looked down at Alpine, who blinked up at her and gave a pointed meow.
She smiled — barely — and whispered, “I forgive you, Bob. But our trust has to be rebuilt.”
He exhaled like it was the first real breath he’d taken in months.
“I’ll build it brick by brick,” he promised.
He moved slowly, carefully — and when she reached up, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to John’s bed. She nestled against his chest, quiet and warm, as he lay down with her tucked beneath his chin.
She whispered, “Sometimes home isn’t a place.”
“Sometimes,” he murmured, holding her tighter, “home is a person.”
They fell asleep like that — safe, whole.
Until—
John walked in an half an hour later, holding a coffee and a cup of tea for her.
He stopped. Blinked.
Bob and her. In his bed. Cuddled up like it was a Hallmark movie.
“EW. In my bed?! Seriously?!”
Alpine hissed loudly.
Right on cue, Bucky strolled by sipping his own coffee and smirked.
“You tell him, Alpine.”
AN || Thank you so much for reading. Whether you follow me or just stumbled across this series, I can’t express how much it means that you stuck through it — especially to the end. This was the final part of the series, and honestly… it’s probably my favorite mini-series I’ve ever written. I poured so much of myself into it — even drawing from my own experiences with trauma (including SA/rape) — and seeing you all connect with the story, with her, with the healing… it’s something I’ll never forget. I truly hope this series became a favorite of yours, too. I can’t wait to keep creating more stories across all the fandoms I write for — with just as much heart and care. Thank you for giving this one a home with you. Take care, and remember you’re are loved and I’m always here if you need anyone to talk to! 🤍
how they react to you calling them your current boyfriend -`♡´- (marvel men edition)
Bob (video)
It was a typical night in—the lights dimmed, popcorn already half-eaten, and Bob lounging beside you on the couch in his usual hoodie and sweatpants. The movie hadn’t even started yet, and the snack run had been more chaotic than productive (he insisted on gummy worms and kettle corn, a combo you’d never understand).
You smirked to yourself, grabbing your phone and turning on the camera. This was too perfect.
“Let’s have a movie night,” you said, casually recording, “I’m here with my current boyfriend.”
You slowly panned the camera over to Bob.
He turned so slowly to face you, wide-eyed and suspicious, like you just confessed to treason.
You paused mid-sentence, seeing him on the screen staring at you—deadpan and silently judging. That’s when both of you cracked up.
“What did you say?” Bob laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I said,” you replied, straightening your face and voice, “I’m here with my current boyfriend.”
Without missing a beat, Bob turned back to the phone and playfully smacked it out of your hand.
“Hey!” you yelled, still laughing as you reached for your phone.
Bob stood up with a dramatic little stretch like he was preparing to make a speech.
You raised your hand, showing off your very bare ring finger. “You’re my current boyfriend. Do you see a ring on his finger? No. Nothing’s forever.”
Bob blinked, taken aback. “Nothing’s forever?” he echoed, brows raising.
“This isn’t forever,” you said with exaggerated conviction, “everything is temporary. I’m not locked in for nothing.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Bob narrowed his eyes slightly—mischief twinkling behind them.
“You may not have a ring right now,” he said slowly… then dropped to one knee in front of you.
Your eyes widened in panic. “Bob—No, get up!”
The video cut off right as you both burst out laughing again, his goofy grin still plastered on his face.
Just another night of chaos, candy, and questionable relationship status.
Sentry (video)
The camera’s rolling. You’re cozy in bed, sitting up with the blanket pulled halfway over your legs, Sentry lounging next to you—glowing just a little less golden than usual, hair slightly tousled.
You smile at the lens. “So we just finished watching a movie. It was cute, emotional, a little tragic—kinda like my current boyfriend over here.”
You gesture toward him, casually, like it’s no big deal.
Robert freezes. Blinks once. Twice.
“Nope,” he mutters, tossing the blanket off. “I’m not doing all that.”
You snort. “Doing what?”
But he’s already out of bed, shaking his head like a man betrayed. He walks off camera, barefoot and brooding.
The video jumps to a dramatic shot of him standing alone on the balcony, arms crossed, staring off into the night like a Shakespearean prince.
No words. Just wind, stars… and “heartbreak”.
Void (video)
The phone was already recording, propped up on the counter, catching the mundane warmth of the kitchen light. Dishes clinked in the background. You stood next to him—Void, tall and still, his presence like a shadow that never quite settled.
With a cheerful smile, you looked into the camera.
“Hey guys, so me and my current boyfriend here are gonna be cleaning the kitchen up a bit—putting away the dishes.”
Void didn’t say anything. Didn’t even move. He just slowly—very slowly—turned his head to look at you. His plain white, piercing eyes blinked once.
You glanced up at him, still smiling, tilting your head playfully. “What?”
He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he sighed—long, deep, exhausted in that way only he could be. Then, without a sound, he reached forward and calmly pressed the phone screen… turning off the video.
Still shaking his head as he walked away.
And yet, somehow, that was his version of affection.
Void-style domestic content: one and done.
Scott (video)
The car was parked under the soft glow of the setting sun, fast food bags in the backseat and a half-eaten burger in Scott’s hand. You opened your front camera, lip gloss perfect, mischief practically radiating off of you.
“Hey guys,” you said into the phone with a grin, “me and my current boyfriend are gonna do Never Have I Ever—”
Scott paused mid-chew, eyebrows twitching behind those signature red lenses.
Then dead serious: “Your current boyfriend?”
You burst out laughing as he leaned slightly toward the camera, expression pure offended boyfriend.
“Are you planning on having another one in the future?” he asked, all faux-seriousness and wounded pride.
Trying to keep a straight face, you pushed forward like you hadn’t just been called out. “We’re gonna play Never Have I Ever.”
Scott wasn’t done. He blinked behind his visor. “Your current boyfriend,” he repeated, shaking his head like he just discovered betrayal. “Wow. Never have I ever been so fucking offended. There you go.”
You slid to the side of the camera, full-body laughing, your hand over your mouth. After a beat, you came back into frame and wiped a tear away.
“All right, you start.”
Scott leaned back in his seat, folding his arms like a man scorned. “No. I don’t want to,” he said, pouting. “You go first. You hurt my feelings.”
You tried to stay serious, but the laugh escaped again. And honestly, how did you end up with the leader of the X-Men acting like a dramatic prom date in your passenger seat?
Who knows—but it made for one hell of a TikTok
Bucky (video)
You had the camera propped just right—soft lighting, perfect angle, your outfit styled head to toe. Date night deserved documentation. And, as usual, your very cooperative (and slightly over-it) boyfriend was about to be roped in. Again.
“Jamie, come here and pose with me,” you called sweetly.
From the hallway, Bucky strolled in—already dressed to the nines—stepping behind you and placing his hands gently on your waist like he’d done this a dozen times before. Because… he had.
You smiled at the camera. “This is my current boyfriend, Bucky.”
Without missing a beat, Bucky slowly removed his hands from your waist, stepped in front of you, and turned to the camera with a smirk that could melt vibranium.
“Currently? We’ll see how the future holds up,” he said dramatically, sliding into spotlight mode. “But I think it’s lookin’ bright.” He gave a mock laugh—pure mischief—then struck a casual pose. “Right now I’m just wearing this Tom Ford suit,” he added, brushing invisible lint off his shoulder. “And this Omega Seamaster,” he flashed the wristwatch you got him, “courtesy of the lady behind me.”
You stood in the background blinking, then cracked up. “You are so—just stop, James,” you laughed.
“What?” he said, only half-faking confusion.
“It was a prank! I said ‘this is my current boyfriend Bucky,’ you were supposed to act all annoyed and be like—” you put on a fake grumpy voice, “‘Current boyfriend? What do you mean current?’ Like, get all jealous or whatever. You didn’t even play into it!”
Bucky shrugged coolly. “Nah. ’Cause I’m not, uh…”
“Toxic?” you offered with a smirk.
He gave a lazy grin. “Insecure.”
You snorted, stepping up beside him and resting your head against his arm.
No arguments there—just a very secure man, a very lucky girlfriend, and one very well-dressed “current” boyfriend who clearly plans to be anything but temporary.
John (video)
The kitchen was a mess of ingredients—ground beef, buns, pickles, and a whole pile of seasoning waiting to be put to good use. You had your phone propped up, camera already rolling, when John glanced over at you, suspicious as ever.
“I ain’t making no other vlog,” he said, shaking his head like he was so over the social media life.
“Oh, we’re making a vlog,” you replied with a sly grin, eyes flicking up at him before facing the camera again. “Today, me and my current boyfriend will be making smash burgers—”
John tilted his head so slowly, the confusion practically radiated off him. He just… stared. Silently. Processing. Trying to figure out if he heard that right.
A solid five seconds of silence passed.
You turned to him, smirking. “What do you think of that?”
John raised an eyebrow, the sass switch officially flipped. “Me and my girlfriend at the moment,” he said, eyes narrowed with mock offense, “are definitely making smash burgers tonight.”
He gave you a look right after “girlfriend at the moment” like two can play this game.
You stared back, mouth twitching. Neither of you broke for a second—until the laughter exploded out of both of you at the same time, nearly doubling over as you wheezed in the middle of the kitchen.
Somewhere in the background, a pan started to sizzle. The burgers would have to wait—because now you were both laughing too hard to function.
TikTok gold. Team dinner chaos. Just another night with your “current” man.
Logan (video)
The fire crackled low in the woodstove, casting soft golden light across the cabin walls. You were curled up on the couch, laying against Logan’s chest, his arms heavy around you in that comforting, protective way only he could manage.
With a quiet smirk, you reached for your phone, hit record, and spoke softly into the camera.
“Hey guys, me and my current boyfriend just got back from a date and walk.”
Logan barely moved, but you felt the deep rumble of his voice through his chest.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “me and my current girlfriend are about to watch a show.”
There was a pause—just long enough for the words to settle. You slowly lifted your head and glanced up at him, meeting his eyes with a raised brow.
You didn’t say a word. Just stared.
He looked right back at you, completely unfazed, and added with a little smirk:
“Isn’t that right, bub?”
You couldn’t hold it—your giggles bubbled up as you buried your face in his chest, and he chuckled lowly, brushing a hand over your back.
The video cut off right there—soft laughter, soft light, and one very not-so-temporary “current” boyfriend.
✨ Welcome to the little corner of the void… where Bob Reynolds lives rent-free in our hearts. Whether he’s your boyfriend, your husband, or something a little more dangerous, all fics are listed below by vibe. ✧
⸻
💌 Boyfriend!Bob
soft days. whispered secrets. forehead kisses.
★ your camera roll is you were dating Bob (or Lewis)
⸻
💍 Husband!Bob
warm coffee. matching rings. the way he looks at you like you hung the stars.
coming soon
⸻
🌑 Void!Bob
he’s not himself… but he still knows your name.
coming soon
⸻
⚡ Sentry!Bob
golden eyes. god-tier strength. uncontrollable power.
coming soon
⸻
🛋️ Roommate!Bob
accidental touches. shared groceries. tension in the air.
coming soon
⸻
📂 Extras & Series
multi-chapter chaos or one-off moments that didn’t fit above.
★ sometimes home is a person - mini series
↳ drabble ➺ part two ➺ part three ➺ part four ➺ part five (final)
Summary: You and Charles spend a cozy Halloween night making Boo Baskets for the grid — messy ribbons, sweet laughter, and a little extra love tucked into every basket.
Word Count: 860
All Dividers in each story this month are by: solitary-serendipity 🤎
read my other flufftober stories here | Flufftober 2025
The air had that crisp edge that only October brought, sharp enough to make your skin prickle, but the living room felt strangely warmer with the soft hum of the heater. You had set out pumpkins across the table like little islands of orange in a sea of shadows.
Void sat across from you, arms crossed, jaw tight. He didn’t touch the pumpkins, yet he held the knife. Just watched you as if you were an unnecessary intrusion in his quiet.
“You know,” you said lightly, trying to fill the silence, “we could make this fun. One pumpkin each, or… match them.”
He made a sound, a dry, humorless rasp. “Fun is a word humans use when they’re trying not to admit they’re wasting time.”
You laughed softly. “I don’t think that applies to carving pumpkins.”
“Everything is a waste of time,” he said, voice flat. “Especially when I’m doing it.”
You hesitated, then forced a smile. “It’s just… a few hours. It’s cozy. I thought you might like it.”
He glanced up, eyes sharp, and tilted his head. “You thought wrong.”
You swallowed, letting your hands hover over your pumpkin. For a moment, you considered leaving, but something in you wouldn’t let that happen. You picked up your spoon and began hollowing it out, deliberately slow, careful. The soft scrape of the pumpkin inside filled the space, a tiny rhythm against his quiet.
He didn’t speak, didn’t glance at you, but the motion of his hands was precise and deliberate. You could see the way he scored the pumpkin’s surface with jagged, uneven cuts, as if the very act of carving was an expression of irritation.
You tried to focus on your own pumpkin, drawing a crescent moon and delicate stars into the orange flesh. Each cut was careful, meant to create something soft and steady in the middle of the tension that filled the room.
“Yours is… dull,” he said abruptly, the knife pausing mid-cut. He didn’t even look at your pumpkin. “Why would anyone want that?”
You smiled faintly. “It’s… meant to be calm. Pretty.”
“Pretty is meaningless.” He jabbed the knife a little harder into his pumpkin. The jagged lines looked harsh, almost violent. “Mine will look real.”
“Real?” you asked, biting your lip.
He didn’t answer. You could hear the scraping of the knife, the way he worked with his own rhythm, distant and sharp. The pumpkin under his hands became something that looked alive — eyes slanted and cruel, teeth jagged, mouth pulled into a permanent grin.
You tried to ignore the tension coiling in your chest, tracing your moon and stars with gentle cuts. Your pumpkin glowed with candlelight when you finished, small and steady, a quiet defiance of the harshness across from you.
Void’s pumpkin sat beside it, dark in its shadow, teeth jagged, eyes carved into cruel slits. He leaned back, arms crossed again, surveying both with a detached air, as if he could erase your efforts with a word.
“They’re… very different,” you said softly, trying to break the ice.
“They are,” he said, voice low. “Yours looks like it’s trying too hard. Mine looks like it means something.”
You pressed your lips together, nodding, trying not to let the sting of his words reach further in. “I like mine,” you said gently. “It… reminds me of You and Sen.”
“And it’s weak,” he said, eyes flicking to yours. “That’s the truth.”
You looked down, forcing a laugh. “You always know how to ruin the moment.”
“No. I just tell it like it is,” he said.
You went quiet after that, lighting the candles in both pumpkins. The soft glow of your moon-and-stars cast delicate shadows, while his mean, jagged pumpkin seemed to drink the light around it, swallowing it. You watched, holding your breath, trying to imagine warmth despite the sharp distance radiating from him.
Eventually, you stood and gathered both pumpkins carefully. The porch was just outside, the evening air cold enough to make your cheeks flush. You carried them silently, side by side. Your fingers brushed his briefly as you set them down, and he didn’t recoil, didn’t acknowledge it either.
You stepped back to look at them. Your moon and stars shimmered gently, almost smiling, while his jagged pumpkin seemed to sneer at the world.
“They look… different,” you said softly, more to yourself than him.
“They do,” he replied simply, hands shoved in his pockets. “Exactly how they should.”
You nodded, pressing your hands together to keep warm, trying not to let the tightness in your chest show. The porch lights cast shadows across both pumpkins, highlighting the contrast — your soft glow and his cruel sharpness.
For a long moment, you just stood there, watching them side by side. The quiet between you was heavy, but you imagined it wasn’t permanent, that maybe, just maybe, some small warmth could exist even with the edge of him lingering in the cold air.
And so the pumpkins sat on your porch that night: one gentle, delicate; one harsh, jagged. Both alive in their own way, under the pale autumn moon, waiting for the world to notice.
