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snowflakes on your eyelashes ( bob reynolds x gn!reader )
warnings: discussions of seasonal depression
author's note: this is written for @lewmagoo 's winter event, thank you for letting me participate!
Snowflakes are falling to their demise, crashing onto your skin and meeting their frosty end.
The winter wind is strong on the balcony, it is dancing through your hair, licking your face and making your cheeks tighten from the cold.
You have always been different on winter days, the cold making you stiff and mean, stealing sleep and warmth. It is seasonal, everyone always says. The sun is gone behind the clouds, and the warmth is gone with it, it is normal for you to feel down.
It doesn't feel normal when you are going through it, frankly. Your body, your mind feels like they are frozen in place, stuck in time. Nothing gives you their usual satisfaction, lacking their joy and routine. Everything feels like they are a cheap copy of their usual self.
Aside from Bob, that is.
Bob, who has the power of a thousand suns. Bob, who doesn't really feel the cold anymore. Bob, always warm and sunny. Bob, who is now standing beside you, hair falling onto his face, eyes searching.
When his eyes meet yours, there is a knowing look in them. It is not the first time he found you here, standing alone in the cold, watching the city beneath you.
"You missed dinner." He says, his voice is reserved in a way that you only associate with him.
"I've eaten already." You say and he hums, a short sound, knowing that you are lying.
His deep blue eyes leave yours and look up, slowly catching up to the falling snow. Snowflakes are slowly clinging to his brown hair, his face and his gray sweater, melting instantly. You watch as a particularly large snowflake falls onto his eyelashes, making him squint and smile as it disappears.
Your lips slightly turn upwards after seeing his warm smile, still watching as more snowflakes fall down to his hair. He turns to look at you again and calmly says, "First snow, huh." You force back a tight lipped smile, feeling the weight of the cold again as you can't bring yourself to offer the same warmth he offers you in his expression.
His eyes fill with a thoughtful cloud as he catches your face, tilting his head slightly, really looking at you.
"Aren't you cold?"
"I'm fine." One of his eyebrows slowly drags up in disbelief, "Really."
His eyes drags down your face with a pensive expression, stops to look at your chapped lips, quickly glancing away and now looking at his fingers as he fidgets with the ends of his sweater. He always does this when he is in deep thought or worry.
He exhales loudly, and puckers his lips as he quickly decides something that you cannot make out. He looks at you behind the hair fallen down on his eyes, with snowflakes still falling around him, and brings his arms up slowly, as if he is not trying to frighten you, like you are something fragile to hold.
His long and lean arms envelope you in a secure hold, one hand on the small of your back, one hand close to the back of your neck.
Your body tenses up at first, not really familiar to a gentle hold. But when you feel the unending hot of his skin surrounding you, his lukewarm breath on your hair, your body unwinds like it was waiting for you to let go.
You meekly bring your arms up, fingers splaying open on his broad back, inhaling the fresh and familiar scent the softener he uses on his sweater. He sighs, sounding sincerely content to your surprise.
It doesn't matter if he is really doing this because he thinks you are cold or if he is trying to make you feel better, what matters is that he is just helping you despite all the things he is always going through, and he is so, so warm.
A long moment passes as he watches the snow falling. "Can you make me that hot chocolate again? It was really good." You know he is trying to distract you, and maybe even himself.
You seperate from him, looking back at his face to find a snowflake melting on his eyelashes again. Smiling, a real one this time, real and bright, as you take his big and warm hand and hold it tight. "Of course." You say, leading him out of the balcony as you hear him laugh lightly at your sudden eagerness. His laugh always makes your heart flutter with a naive desire, reserved only for him.
As the undeniable warmth of his skin seeps through your hand, you realize that the sun might be gone, but your personal sunshine is beside you, for now.
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the void x gn!reader ( cw: sensory deprivation, being restrained, dubcon )
When you woke up, it felt like you haven't woken up at all.
Darkness surrounding you. An empty, dull darkness. So dull, so deep that you have no idea where you start and where you end. An undefinable weight, enveloping you all around. It had no warmth and no cold. Just an obscure feeling of a weight on every inch of your body.
You guessed that your eyes were open, nonetheless, seeing nothing. Feeling nothing. Even the air you were breathing felt like it wasn't going through your lungs at all.
You tried to speak, first exhaling slowly. It made no sound, and your breath didn't brush your lips. Am standing up? Am I laying down? Trying to guess where your hands were, you shook yourself around, for a moment it felt like you were face down, then nothingness, again.
You knew this feeling. This nothingness.
When you entered it months ago, you felt it. When you were trying to pull him back from it, you felt it. Now you were feeling it everywhere, constant and unending.
The Void.
Does it really matter where you are?
You heard its voice.
It startled you because the voice didn't come from around you. It was inside your head. Inside your mind? You felt your chest tense, and it slowly made you aware of your body. Where your shoulders were, where your legs laid. You just didn't know where you fucking were. Does it matter? What a question. When you can't pinpoint where your own fingers are, it does matter a bit.
A chuckle, but now coming from outside of your mind. It felt like somebody close, real close, chuckling close to your ear.
You are with me now. That's all that matters.
You heard it sometimes, close to the back of your neck, whispering slowly, unrecognizable. Sometimes just humming intently, other times chuckling at something ridiculous you just did. At night, when the Watchtower was dead silent, sometimes you heard it call your name, in a tone that is vacant, slightly playful.
When you were with Bob, usually its whispers were constant, like a buzzing radio, clouding your thoughts, unnerving you. Shadows moving fluidly near you two, like ink in water. In your dreams, your nightmares, its voice was a weight on your chest, claiming its place while crushing you, caressing you, entering you, eating you whole.
Now, you felt it everywhere. In every part of your body, feather like touches of dark hands mapping your skin, hushed whispers clouding the null space. It was overwhelming, feeling the fingers of dark learning you, tearing you open, spilling your insides to void.
You are playing with me. Why now?
I am tired of watching that little Bob play with you. I want you for myself for a while.
A feeling like a wave crushing your body took over you. Strong and irresistable, the hands of darkness held you closer, tighter. You started to feel your skin give in to its hollow fingers. The air vibrated around you, filling with your sounds of nuisance.
Do you remember calling for me in your dreams?
You felt its whisper directly on your face, going over your stiff features. No, you don't remember your dreams at all, you rarely did. Just voices and fragments of emotions. But when you wake up, you often find yourself filled with a sense of loss, lacking something you can't even recall.
Playing with you in your dreams is not as fun as this. Because you do not remember it. You do not remember that it was me.
What did it do to you to leave you in such a state of longing? A state of hunger, craving. You tried to move your body again, to give your body a momentary satisfaction, but you couldn't. It has a clean domination over you, not causing you pain but not giving you anything either. It is like having arms around you, keeping you sheltered in darkness.
Even your shadow yearns for me, but you do not remember it.
You don't want something to take over you in such a total way. You don't want it to take everything from you, leaving you empty. Leaving you missing something you can't name, something maybe you are afraid to utter. You felt hands go over your neck, softly enveloping it whole, a faint feeling of strangeness getting close to your face, pressing against it lightly.
You want to deprive me from feeling the sweetness of you, while you give yourself to Bob so easily?
A dark touch against your jaw, soft like silk. It is kissing you, you realized dreadfully, kissing you soft and tender. Kissing you like it is silently worshiping you, a being of unending power, adoring you calmly.
You invite me in every night, just to deny it now?
The hand around your neck went to your face, holding you faintly. You also felt the fingertips of darkness around your body, nonstop, birthing a warm feeling inside you. A feeling you are familiar, but not with such company. You felt your breathing get shaky, much to the delight of the strange void around you. Your body got warmer, sweeter to hold, to taste.
You cannot deny what you are feeling, dear.
Willingly, or maybe because you just wanted to finally find out the cause of the empty yearning inside you, you let the void surround you. To envelope you, to keep you frozen in a world of sheer desire. To shield you from mundane.
A kiss, now, against your tingling lips. A kiss made of nothing. A kiss, promising so much more to come. Promises of nightmares and false hopes.
Invite the darkness in. Invite me to show you real desire.
maybe it’s just my yellowjackets and thunderbolts hyperfixations blending together, but that move melissa did where she kissed shauna as she threatened her would one THOUSAND percent work on bob as sentry
adrian chase x gn!reader ( cw: blood, mentions of wounds )
Since you have learned Adrian was Vigilante, he started to come to you, beaten and bruised.
One time, he was covered in so much blood that he looked like a crime scene. (He is technically a criminal.) It took so much time to get blood stains off from your carpet. Another time, he came to you with a bullet wound. You begged him to go to a hospital, even offered him to drive there, but he refused profusely. I really hate hospitals, he said. The smells and sounds make me sick. So, you patched him up as best as you could, and he slept for nearly a day. He was perfectly fine when he woke up. You still don’t understand how.
Now in your bathroom, Adrian is fresh out of the shower, shirtless, clad in one of your plaid pajama pants, drying his hair with a towel. (He knows where your towels are. He knows where everything is, honestly.) You forced him to take a shower to get rid of the blood and grime that was covering him. He looks pretty much fine, but there is a gash on his chest, his left eyebrow and upper lip are busted. His curly hair is still damp and there is a flush on his body from the hot shower. He looks warm.
"Sit on the counter, please." He looks at you in the middle of putting his glasses on, a small smile on his face. He obeys you and hops on the counter. Adrian watches you slowly, like a cat, as you put down the first aid stuff; bandages, gauze, antiseptic wipes and such. You neatly restocked them nowadays, considering that you have a regular patient to take care of.
First, you decide to treat the gash on his chest because it was the biggest one. It doesn't hurt. I have had tens of wounds like these! Adrian yelled when he first came to your house. Blood was slowly rushing out of the wound, so you started to clean the gash, using one of the wipes.
Adrian is always surprisingly quiet when you patch him up. He sits on the counter, feet dangling like a little kid, quiet as a mouse. He breathes slowly as he watches every move you make, laser focused on your trembling hands, sometimes he just watches your face, very closely. At first, it weirded you out a little, the contrast to his usual demeanor, but later you started to actually like these little moments, the way he lets you in to take care of him. Usually he gets defensive about doing things his way, which is the right way.
When you start to tape gauze to the wound, touching his chest lightly and finding out his skin is warm and weirdly smooth, Adrian speaks. "Usually I don't like people touching me." That breaks you from your trance of watching your own fingers touch his skin. "Or me touching people. Makes me feel strange." You shoot him a worried look, and slowly pull back your hands. "Oh! I didn't want you to stop, no no!" He shakes his head and water drops from his curls to the counter. "It is fine when you do it. Just wanted to say that. Keep going, please."
"Okay." you say, deciding to clean his brow now. He is smiling, a smile that you know is forced to let you know he was fine. You know this smile. You saw it a couple of times when he was forcing it through the pain.
You feel a little awkward because of his sudden words, but you move on. To clean his brow more easily, you take Adrian's glasses off of him while holding his jaw lightly with your left hand. You fold his glasses carefully and put them on the counter. His eyes track your fingers the entire time. When you start to clean his brow, he blurts out, "It actually feels nice. You touching me." He shoots you a quick glance, then looks at your fingers again. "You don't feel weird like other people."
“Glad to hear it.” You whisper in between your faces. You feel like your breath touches his skin. When you finish cleaning his brow with the wipe, you let Adrian choose which color of the various band-aids you own. He chooses blue, not to your surprise. You put it on his brow and give him a pat on his head.
You take in a sharp breath as you move to clean his lip, and feel your hands are still trembling, an annoying trait you have. Looking at Adrian, you find him waiting intently, lips pout in a funny but cute way. He is back to being quiet. His lips are wet like he recently licked them. They look soft. There is a small amount of blood where his upper lip is swollen, red and busted. Your hand rises to slowly touch his chin and tilt his head back a little to start pressing the wipe to his busted lip. His eyes are still entirely focused on you. As he feels your hand touch him, Adrian breathes deeply and winces when the wipe touches his lip.
“I can’t put a bandage to this one, so try not to make it bleed again.”
“No promises on that one.” You roll your eyes as you put down the wipe and wash your hands quickly on the sink. When you look back at him, drying your hands on the towel he used on his hair, his gaze goes back to his usual curious one, mouth tight in a small grin. You give him a smile that you hope looks sweet. “All finished.”
When he sees you smiling, Adrian’s face softens in a dangerous way. “Thank you.” He says, fast, like he is readying himself to keep talking. You are still really close to him, practically in between his legs. His jaw tightens. While he puts his glasses back on, his gaze turns pensive, confusing. His eyes focus on your face, not blinking as he licks his lips again.
“Can I kiss you?"
“What?” Your face is seemingly very funny because Adrian is now laughing, head going back slightly as he shakes. “To see if it feels weird. I think it won’t because your hands are reaaaally nice, so your mouth should feel nicer, right?”
What Adrian doesn’t know is that you wanted to actually kiss him for a while. Since he first came to you, chattering about unrelated animal facts while you washed blood off his face. You wanted to kiss him while holding his cheeks. And the time you shared your food with him as he laid on your sofa, watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. You wanted to kiss him while he was giggling at the TV.
So, you kiss him.
You kiss him unexpectedly fast because Adrian gasps against your mouth, going still. You feel his lips brushing your own, but he pulls back. Blinking at you, green eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe something, something you can’t figure out. His eyes go to your lips, and he puts a hand on your cheek, maybe to hold you in place, maybe to see how it feels.
He kisses you this time, lips warm and eager, exploring. His hand goes to your hair and he breathes shakily out his nose. Moving his lips slowly against yours, you can feel him start to smile against you. You smile back. As you tilt your head and change the angle to get more of him, claim more of him with your tongue, you feel a liquid hotness mostly against your upper lip, it enters your mouth and leaves a metallic taste. Fuck. Blood. His blood, on your mouth. Oh. You put your hand on his shoulder and break the kiss. He is smiling sheepishly when you look at him.
"It feels nice, really nice. Your mouth, I mean." While putting your fingers to your lips, you can feel the still warm blood. You glance back at Adrian, licking your lips as doing so. "Fuck, now you look like a hot vampire nurse with my blood on you. Like you have just fed on me. Fuuuuuck! I would let you feed on me if you treat me nice like this all the time, you know."
"Well, I may not be a vampire, but I patch you up nicely, don't I?" His smile grows wider, big and bright, letting you see his sharp canines. "Yes." He says. "Yes you do." He leans in to give you a short kiss, gently this time. "Thank you for taking care of me ."
It is your turn to smile big, flashing your bloody teeth, feeding Adrian's vampire fantasy.
"Also, the vampire thing may not be true but you are, in fact, hot as fuck! Just saying."
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thinking about superman and sentry eiffel towering adrian chase where clark is cradling and soft whilst sentry is mean and sharp AND adrian just wants so be sooo soo good for them
He sticks various post-its to your computer and your desk throughout the day on Checkmate Headquarters. Sometimes it has just a note on it. ‘You smell really amazing today!! - A’ ‘My sweater looks good on you :) -A’ Sometimes it has cartoon drawings of you and Vigilante, surrounded by neatly drawn hearts and explosions. Sometimes it just says 'Look to your right', it always confuses you before you look and find Adrian, smiling with a post-it on his forehead that has ‘Lunch together??’ written on it. He doesn't even need to ask because you always have lunch with him already, but it is endearing to see him ask you, every day.
He brings trinkets and figures for your desk. Your desk is practically overflown with them. There are at least a dozen lego figures he says that they remind him of you, a funko pop of Superman (Because he knows you really, really like him. He is a liiiittle jealous about it.), tiny DnD figurines that he painted just for you and a pair of old Beanie Babies that you still don’t know the names of. His desk has a lot of stuff that he neatly takes care of, but Adrian's prized possession is the Vigilante doll that you crocheted for him. It is really ugly, but he is obsessed with it.
He makes you coffee. He knows exactly how you like it, and takes time every morning to have a cup ready for you (and him). On occasion, when he comes in, he would have store-bought coffee with him (He knows your order too. He still doesn't know how can you drink this abomination daily.) to share with you. When you take a sip, he waits excitedly, like an eager puppy, for you to thank him for coffee and give him a smile. In return for the coffee, you give him his favorite candy (He likes fruity gummies.), and open a tab on your computer to quiz him on animal facts, like a reward.
Adrian likes leaving notes for you because you always laugh while reading them. He likes bringing and buying you things (with the blood money he is now using for good, mind you) for your desk because you take such good care of them, it makes him feel good seeing you surrounded with stuff that will remind you of him. He likes making you coffee because you always thank him and smile at him, and he realizes that, every time, he loves you —more than a friend.
He begs for your attention. “Can we do a spooky movie marathon for october? Pleaseeeeee. On Halloween we can watch Saw. I know you like it.” You raise one brow and look at him, thinking about it. His voice goes higher and he pulls out his finishing move, the puppy eyes. “Please please please! I will even bring the snacks everyday. Come on. It will be fun!” You were going to say yes eventually because you love horror movies, especially Saw. But it is always fun to see him pout and whine for something you could easily give.
“Okay, but I better see those snacks everyday, Adrian.” He jumps happily, punching the air. His little laugh is precious.
He begs for your forgiveness. A somehow regular occurrence, him shaking lightly, eyes wide and voice rough, pleading for your comforting words. And you, jaw tight, hands tense. You know he will not do something to outright hurt you, ever, but it still hurts.
“I really really reaaaally didn’t mean it in a bad way. I didn’t say you were not my friend. I will never say that. Believe me, please.”
“You kind of exactly said that, Adrian.” When you say his name in such harsh a tone, it sucks the breath out of him.
“The thing I meant to say was... You are not just my friend.... I kinda see you more than that so... It puts you in a different category than just friend. I don’t exactly know what category that is, but I am sure it means more to me than Peacemaker’s friendship. Aaaand that technically still makes him my number one friend, so you are in a different, single slot category-”
You kiss him to shut him up, and it sucks the breath out of him too. In a good way.
He begs for your touch. Sweaty and red all over, being in his lap gives you a heady rush. He is shaking slightly, his chest is vibrating with shallow breaths. His curls are damp and sticking to his forehead, eyes glossy and glasses foggy. “Please.” he says. “Please touch my fucking dick or I feel like it’s gonna fall off or explode or some shit! Please babe.” You pout and pinch one of his nipples to just be cruel. In response, he downright hisses at you, and his already weeping cock twitches slightly against his stomach, dripping more. “You just did that to tease me!”
“That’s kinda the point of this.” You cannot hold the small laugh that escapes your lips.
“I don’t think this is funny at all! If this was your dick I would be all over it by now, just saying.” He frowns and tries to look at you in a demanding way. When he realizes you are not crumbling, his mouth goes back into a pout and whines. “Do you want me to beg? Because I was already doing that for the last thirty minutes, babe. I will pay it back to you. I will eat you out for hours if you want! You know I will!” Oh, you know he would. He loved making you feel good.
“Tell me I am the only one to get you like this.” You tilt your head and look down on him. He tenses and sucks in a sharp breath, then bites his upper lip. He grabs you by the hips, head already nodding at your words, glasses sliding down.
“You are the only one, babe! You know that, don’t you? You just want to hear me saying it. If that’s the case, I will say it for hours, just fucking touch me. You know I am yours, please. No one else, no one else. Pleaaaaase. I know you want to make me feel good too. Please! Just give me your hand, at least. Come on, babe.”
You interrupt his begging by humoring him and taking his dripping cock into your hand, his hips immediately canting upwards at the feel of your lukewarm fingers. “Well, it is always good to hear it.” Your other hand ruffles his hair. “Good boy.” you say, to soothe him, or to rile him up more, he can’t decide.
“Thank you!” he nearly screams. “Thank you thank you thank you...” You wink at him and start to move your hand slowly. Adrian moans, high-pitched, and starts to curse under his breath, sometimes thanking you again.
A smile takes over your face, when he sees it, Adrian smiles at you too. How sweet. Maybe you can make him beg for your mouth too, huh?
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erik: i am magneto, master of magnetism. i have killed nazis, human supremacists, and once, even a god. i am one of the most powerful mutants on the planet; one of the deadliest men in the world.
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