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seitmai · 1 day ago

Text

Many thoughts

“Why are there so many PopTarts on this list?” he muttered as he went to the cereal aisle and put them in the cart. To be fair, he hadn’t realized there were so many flavors, and he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t get the right ones.

He snorted when he saw that deodorant was next on the list, immediately clocking John’s handwriting. “That’s not food, so I’m not getting it.” Yeah, it was petty of him, since he could technically buy non-edible products at the grocery store. Maybe he was still annoyed by John's comment about your ass. You had a stunning ass, capable of leaving people in awe. That didn't mean he wanted the junior varsity Captain America to ogle it.

Haha my guess is Alexei put it on the list 😅

I think Bucky should not get it and then gaslight and tell John that he stinks and should use deodorant haha

She deserves it 👏🏻

He made sure to get different types of fries as well, as there was an ongoing debate about whether regular, crinkle, or curly cut fries were the best. John almost flipped the table, but the argument died down when Bucky said he’d always share his fries with you. Ava said that was love. She was right.

So true 😌🥰

The thought of you softened his demeanor, and it softened even further when he saw your handwriting. “Chocolate, please, and thank you. You’re the best!” He traced the letters with his fingers and smiled. If he had the money, he’d buy you an entire chocolate shop. Because he didn't, he made sure to grab more than enough, anticipating that Alexei might try to steal some. He grabbed some flowers for you, too, because you deserved them.

Oh he is so smitten for her 🥰🥹

As he checked out, he balanced the reusable bags Bob insisted on using and tried not to sneer at the total.

Bob 🤝🏻 me

Our love for reusable bags

What he did not expect to see when he got to your car was a white ball of fur curled up on the hood. “What the hell?” he muttered.

Ahhh what an entrance for Alpine 👏🏻

Putting his hands on his hips, he stared at the animal until it lifted its head. A pair of crystal blue eyes stared back at him, unafraid and not at all bothered. He had to smile because it strangely reminded him of you, unwavering and always willing to look right at him. “Hey there,” he said, tentatively holding a hand out. He didn’t want to spook the cat. “You lost? You're not hurt, are you?”

I can so vividly imagine Bucky's stance staring at the cat haha

“Yeah, you're cute, but here’s the thing,” he said, shaking his head at himself since he was talking to a cat. “I can’t drive with you on the hood, so…” As if the cat understood him, it stood up and stretched. He panicked for a moment when he thought it would scratch the paint, but there wasn’t a single mark from the claws. And instead of jumping onto the street like he expected, the cat silently walked right to him and stared into his eyes again.

Instant connection and understanding between them 🥰

“Since you don't have a collar and I don't see anyone searching for you, I can take you to a shelter,” he suggested. The second the words left his mouth he knew it wasn't happening, and there was another meow, softer and sadder that had his walls crumbling.

She's like: oh boy have I something to say about that haha

“I have crazy roommates,” he continued. The team was in a good place, but it didn't take away that they were an entire range of crazy. How could he throw a cat into the mix? “And what would my girl say?”

They already have a crazy mix, a cat wouldn't even make that big of a difference 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

Oh he sure has 🙂‍↕️

But the cat didn’t budge, content being in Bucky’s arms. He found that he was content, too. Had he become a cat person in a matter of seconds? Just like when he met you, he was fucked. He breathed out. At least you didn't sound upset. “Well. Um, hang on.”

He pulled up the camera and snapped the best photo he could. After sending it to you, he didn't put his phone back up to his ear right away, knowing you were about to shriek. You were usually considerate with his enhanced hearing, but this was a very cute cat.

Fair

“If she has an owner, we’ll fight them,” you said like it was no big deal.

That's the spirit!

Bucky's heart picked up when you said “we” because it was a reminder that he had someone by his side. “Yeah, I think we are.”

🥹🥹🥹

“Yes! It’s about time we got a pet,” you said, careful to not shout this time. “And cats choose their people. You know that right?”

Facts

“I know so. She was sitting on the hood of my car in a parking lot, and I think she wanted you to find her. And judging from the photo you sent, she looks right at home curled up against you,” you said. He wondered if that would've been the case had he been on his bike. Would the outcome be the same? “I’ll bet you two are kindred spirits.” “Just like us,” he said. Pieces that just fit together.

🥰🥰🥰

“I think you’ll like the gang, too. They’re…” Bucky tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “They’re something.”

They sure are something 😅

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I know what it's like to be lost, but I’ll take care of you from now on, okay?” She lifted her head and stared with knowing eyes before he pet her head. Satisfied when she meowed, he smiled and started up the car. “Let’s go home.”

🥹🥹🥹

A Kindred Spirit

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky meets a kindred spirit while he's grocery shopping.

Word Count: Over 2.2k

Warnings: Alpine the cat (is that a warning?), established relationship, humor, sweetness, fluff, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans. @buckybarnesfic, this is for you! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was Bucky’s turn to go grocery shopping, which he enjoyed and loathed. It was nice being able to pick out his own food, but he had to bite back a retort every time someone left their cart in the middle of the aisle or took a little too long when they stood in front of a shelf. He should’ve asked you to join him, but he was already out running another errand and didn’t want to bother you. If you were there with him, you would’ve giggled when he grumbled at the list. You would have also agreed with him when he complained about the high cost of food, wondering why everything was so expensive. It was insane.

Walking through the store, he kept an ear open while trying not to draw attention to himself. It was an old habit from when he was on the run. He willed his shoulders to react, but instead, he glared up at the fluorescent light, his hand twitching with the desire to hold yours. He enjoyed holding your hand, which grounded him, and loved how your heart skipped a beat whenever he kissed it.

The sooner he finished shopping, the sooner he’d get back to the tower and you.

While Bucky had a tendency to get John the generic brand of foods, he did take dietary needs and favorite foods seriously. There was a particular brand of hot sauce that Yelena preferred, and he made sure to get the largest bottle possible. He made sure to get different types of fries as well, as there was an ongoing debate about whether regular, crinkle, or curly cut fries were the best. John almost flipped the table, but the argument died down when Bucky said he’d always share his fries with you. Ava said that was love.

She was right.

Thinking it over, he grabbed one more bar. “Just in case,” he whispered.

He grabbed some flowers for you, too, because you deserved them.

As he checked out, he balanced the reusable bags Bob insisted on using and tried not to sneer at the total. It wasn’t the worst shopping trip. He finished up a lot quicker than he expected. Maybe the two of you could go for a ride on his bike once everything was unpacked.

He managed to take your keys out of his pocket without dropping any of the bags, smiling again. Using your car was easier for shopping trips and he liked that it smelled like you. He was also one of the only people you trusted to drive your vehicle, which he prided himself on.

What he did not expect to see when he got to your car was a white ball of fur curled up on the hood. “What the hell?” he muttered.

His eyes flickered around the parking lot, and he listened for anyone calling out for a cat. The cat had no collar, and he had no clue if it had a name, but that didn’t mean it didn’t belong to someone. He liked to think someone would be in distress if their pet was missing, but he didn't hear or see anyone come out to claim it. It didn’t move either when he put the bags in the trunk and placed the flowers in the passenger seat.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

The cat’s fur was surprisingly pristine, but that didn't mean it wasn't in pain or sick. After sniffing Bucky’s hand, it meowed and bumped its head against his hand, making his heart melt. The fur was so soft, and he swore he heard a purr. It was adorable.

“Yeah, you're cute, but here’s the thing,” he said, shaking his head at himself since he was talking to a cat. “I can’t drive with you on the hood, so…”

As if the cat understood him, it stood up and stretched. He panicked for a moment when he thought it would scratch the paint, but there wasn’t a single mark from the claws. And instead of jumping onto the street like he expected, the cat silently walked right to him and stared into his eyes again.

An agile and stealthy little thing.

“...What?” he asked as they stared at each other down.

With a gentle meow, the white ball of fur placed its front paws on his chest and crawled into his arms. He stood perfectly still, wondering what he looked like at that moment; an imposing man in a leather jacket holding a bright white ball of fluff. It had to be a sight.

“Listen, you really are cute, but I can’t just take you home.” He stopped with a huff. “I’ve never had a cat before. I wouldn't know what to do with you.”

The response was to further burrow itself in his arms.

He just knew the idea of a pet would thrill you, especially since the cat was so cute. Though he couldn't just spring that on you, could he? And could he spring that on the team? It was their home, too.

But the cat didn’t budge, content being in Bucky’s arms. He found that he was content, too. Had he become a cat person in a matter of seconds?

Just like when he met you, he was fucked.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he said, balancing the light creature in one arm as he took his phone out to call you. “I have to clear this with my girl, and when she approves because she will, we need to make sure you aren’t chipped or anything, okay?”

Looking at the feline, he had a feeling there was no chip, that there was no home or a family. He wondered if there was a reason she chose to lay on the car he drove today. Was it looking for its own family? A place to fit in? Wasn’t that what everyone wanted?

He could give it that.

“Is everything okay?” He could hear you moving around, likely heading to the door. “Do you need me to meet you?”

“Hey.” He let out a happy sigh at the sound of your voice. “You still at the store?”

“Sort of,” he replied, chuckling as the feline curled up more. He wasn’t even sure if it was a girl or a boy. “That’s actually why I’m calling.”

“I’m good, thanks,” he promised, touched that you were ready to go to him. “Have I mentioned you're the best?”

Nothing like buttering up his girl before mentioning the cat.

“You are the best. I wrote it on the list,” you said. He could hear you smiling. “But why are you trying to butter me up?”

Of course, you knew what he was up to. “Because we may need to make another shopping trip for some cat stuff,” he replied, holding his breath.

You paused on the other end. “Cat stuff? Why would we need to buy cat stuff?” you asked, gasping. “Bucky, did you get a cat?!”

He breathed out. At least you didn't sound upset. “Well. Um, hang on.” He pulled up the camera and snapped the best photo he could. After sending it to you, he didn't put his phone back up to his ear right away, knowing you were about to shriek. You were usually considerate with his enhanced hearing, but this was a very cute cat.

“Oh, my GOD!” The cat tilted its head when your voice rang out through the speaker, but didn't seem unphased otherwise. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay. You-”

“But that is the cutest fucking cat I’ve ever seen in my life,” you continued, making him chuckle. “Where did you find her?! Did you adopt her?!”

He chuckled again at your enthusiasm. “Before we do any of that, we need to make sure she isn’t chipped,” he said, trying not to feel guilty for not doing that before calling and getting your hopes up. And what about her shots? Were those up to date?

Bucky held her closer. “I found her on the hood of the car when I came out of the store, and why do you assume it’s a girl?”

“That beauty is a girl. I just know,” you said with complete confidence. “Okay, we need a collar, bowls, food, a litter box, a scratching post… Ooh, a little helmet so she can go on rides with you!” That did sound adorable. “Hang on. I need to make a list.”

“If she has an owner, we’ll fight them,” you said like it was no big deal.

Mischievous blue eyes gazed up at Bucky, and he laughed all over again. “That’s my girl,” he fondly said. “And I think she heard you and agrees.”

“So, assuming all is well, we're keeping her?” you asked, trying to sound casual but he heard your hopefulness.

Bucky's heart picked up when you said “we” because it was a reminder that he had someone by his side. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“Yes! It’s about time we got a pet,” you said, careful to not shout this time. “And cats choose their people. You know that right?”

“You think so?” he asked.

“Just like us,” he said. Pieces that just fit together.

Your happy sigh made him smile. “Just like us,” you agreed.

“Let me bring her by so I can drop off the food, and then we’ll take care of everything.”

“Ten bucks says she hisses at John and adores Bob,” you teased. You were probably right. “I can’t wait to see you!”

“I can't wait either,” he said, glancing down when he heard the soft meow.

“I was clearly talking to her when I said I can’t wait to see you.” You giggled when Bucky growled. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Drive safe.”

“I will.” He exhaled once you hung up. “Well, that went well.” He helped the cat into the car and placed her next to the flowers. “You’ll love my girl. She’s the best.”

The beautiful feline meowed and curled up on the seat. He realized he’d have to come up with a name for her. Something special for such a beautiful cat, something that fits well. He had a feeling that the right name would come to him by the end of the day, or that you would help him if he got stuck.

“I think you’ll like the gang, too. They’re…” Bucky tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “They’re something.”

The team had been lost in many ways before becoming their own crazy sort of family.

Had to bring Alpine in, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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writeriguess · 3 days ago

Note

I think you wrote CEO Bakugo x secretary reader fic once? Could you write another please? Plot can be whatever but please include smut 😝

Insubordination

The click of your heels was sharper than usual when you stormed into Bakugo’s office.

"You rescheduled my vacation time again," you said without preamble, tossing the printed memo onto his desk. Your jaw was set, eyes flashing. "That’s the third time."

Bakugo didn’t even look up from his monitor. "Your vacation doesn't matter if your department's falling behind."

You scoffed. "You mean your schedule’s falling apart because you refuse to hire a second assistant."

Now he looked at you. Slowly. Like a predator sizing up the one thing stupid enough to challenge him in his own den.

"You’re my assistant. You don't get to dictate shit."

"And you don’t get to keep pulling this control-freak crap every time you feel—threatened," you snapped, voice low. "I’ve kept your world spinning for three years. If I vanish for four days, the company won’t burn."

He stood so fast his chair scraped back across the floor.

“You wanna find out what happens when you vanish?” His voice was a growl, each word dripping threat—and something else.

You stared, breathing heavy, defiant. You wanted him to break. You wanted something to break, because god, it had been building for too long. The late nights. The friction. The glances that lasted a second too long. The silence that buzzed with things unsaid.

He crossed the room in three strides.

"You think you can talk to me like that and walk away?"

Your back hit the glass wall of his office. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His hand slapped the glass beside your head. The other gripped your chin, tilting your face up to his. His breath was hot on your cheek, his gaze fierce and unreadable.

“I should fire you.”

“You won’t.”

"Why?"

"Because you like it when I talk back." Your voice came out rough. Shaky.

He didn’t answer. He crushed his mouth to yours like he was starving for it.

And fuck, you kissed him back like you’d been starving longer.

Bakugo shoved everything off his desk with one violent sweep — your planner, his laptop, even a framed plaque with his name on it crashed to the floor — and hoisted you onto the wood like he owned you. Like you were just another part of his empire to bend, conquer, ruin.

"Been waiting for a fucking excuse," he muttered, tearing open your blouse with both hands, buttons flying.

"You're such a goddamn control freak—" you gasped, arms around his neck, thighs tightening around his waist.

"And you're a pain in my ass." His mouth found your throat, biting down hard. "But you're mine."

The word should’ve made you flinch. Instead, you pulled him closer.

He gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You walk around this place like you don’t know what you do to me. But I see how you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re always watching.”

“Damn right I am.” His voice dropped to a low, possessive rasp. “Watching you bend over my desk. Watching you talk back in that tight-ass pencil skirt.”

You reached down, fingers fumbling at his belt, but he swatted your hand away.

“No. Hands on the desk,” he ordered. “You started this with your mouth. Now keep it shut unless you’re begging.”

He pushed your skirt up roughly, tugged your panties to the side. The air hit your soaked heat and he froze, growled.

“Fuck. You’re already this wet?” His thumb slid between your folds, drawing a sharp moan from you. “All that attitude today—you just wanted me to snap, huh? Wanted this.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He unzipped his pants, pulled himself free. Thick, hard, flushed at the tip. The sight of him made your hips shift involuntarily.

“No condom,” he warned, voice ragged.

“Don’t care.”

That was all he needed.

He lined up, grabbed your hips, and buried himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

Your cry echoed off the office walls, half-shock, half-relief. The stretch was obscene. You felt every inch of him.

He didn’t wait. He fucked you like he was claiming territory — one hand braced against your lower back, the other tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth to his. His pace was punishing, all gritted teeth and panting curses against your lips.

“Always giving me that look—like you’re better than me,” he snarled, pounding into you. “Say it. Say you want me.”

You gasped, nails digging into the desk. “I want you—Katsuki, please—”

He groaned like the sound of his name on your tongue split him open.

“You feel that?” he growled, slamming deeper. “No one else gets this. No one else gets you like this.”

Your orgasm hit fast and hard, ripping through you without mercy. You bit your own wrist to muffle the scream.

“Fuck—fuck, I can feel you coming—” His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering. “I’m gonna—shit—”

He came with a broken growl, burying himself to the hilt, his whole body trembling against yours.

Silence settled thick after. Just your ragged breathing, your shared sweat cooling on skin.

Bakugo pulled back, still braced on the desk, chest heaving. His forehead dropped to yours.

“This doesn’t change shit,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Still your boss.”

You let out a breathless, shaky laugh. “Yeah. And I’m still your problem.”

His smirk returned, slow and wicked.

“Damn right you are.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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buckysleftbicep · 18 hours ago

Text

letters through time (4) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: 1940s!bucky barnes x modern!reader

warnings: angst, some fluff again, finally

summary: you find a letter from 1944 hidden in the old brooklyn apartment you moved signed by one james buchanan barnes. you write back, he did too, and somehow, across decades, you both fall in love.

word count: 1.7k

author's note: yay! chapter 4 is here! i genuinely love this series with all my heart, it probably is my favourite, and now that there's only chapter 5 left, i feel a little sad :") but nevertheless, enjoy my loves!

series masterlist

The box of letters stayed beside your bed, wrapped in linen, sealed with trembling hands like a time capsule you couldn’t bring yourself to bury.

Some nights, you took them out and laid them across your sheets like a makeshift memory, your fingers skimming across ink that still smelled faintly of old paper and cologne. His scent was still there, faint, but still there.

You did not realise just how much you would come to rely on him. His voice, his jokes and his promises. There had been comfort in knowing he was out there, even if he was decades behind. But now, all you had were echoes. History.

It had been months since the last letter.

The days had began to blur together, heavy with his absence. The air in your apartment felt thinner, like the silence had soaked into the walls. You caught yourself pausing mid-task, waiting for something you knew wouldn’t come.

Hope became a reflex, and then it became a wound that wouldn't heal.

You stopped sleeping through the night, your dreams fragmented by memories of ink-stained pages and a smile you had only seen in black and white. The box stayed beside your bed, untouched for days at a time, too painful to open, too sacred to ignore. You hadn’t just lost the letters.

You had lost the feeling that someone, somewhere, still carried your name in their chest.

You didn’t mean to go to the Smithsonian on your day off. Well, not really. You had passed it dozens of times since the letters stopped, always averting your gaze during your shifts, telling yourself you were too busy cataloguing the many files the museum had.

But that morning, your feet carried you there before your thoughts could stop them, as if some part of you had always known you would end up back here.

You stood quietly in the Captain America exhibit, surrounded by polished glass and the hush of solemn silence. Photographs, artefacts, and names etched in brass lined the walls, pieces of a story you once studied, never knowing you’d be woven into its threads.

There was a wall dedicated to Bucky. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

You stared at the photo of him in uniform, so much like the one he once sent you. This copy was preserved in crisp clarity, mounted beneath a plaque detailing his sacrifice, his loyalty, his presumed death. Your throat tightened.

There was a new section now. One that hadn’t been there back when you were a teenager wandering the halls wide-eyed. It stood quietly to the side, behind tempered glass and muted light, a modest acknowledgment of his return and survival, of the things that had been done to him.

It didn’t spell everything out. It didn’t have to. The silence between the lines spoke volumes.

You reached out, fingertips brushing the cool glass. A sad smile tugged at your lips. The photo didn’t smile back, but your eyes welled regardless.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I tried.”

Silence answered. Just the soft hum of the museum.

“I love you, James,” you said, voice trembling. “Please come back to me.”

And maybe it was the lighting. Or maybe it was just your aching heart. But for a breathless moment, you swore his eyes looked a little less distant.

That night, you finally found it in yourself to open the box, and taking out the letters. Not all of them, just a few.

The ones where he called you sweetheart. Where he promised he’d find you. Where he said he loved you like it was the only thing anchoring him in a world at war.

"I like thinking of you with something I held in my hands. Makes this whole crazy thing feel real."

"Sometimes I think I dreamed you up, but then I read your words and I know you're real. God, I hope you're real."

"Please wait for me. I’ll find a way."

You fell asleep with your hand resting on the pages. And for the first time in weeks, you dreamed of him. Not the Winter Soldier. Just Bucky, he was smiling, laughing, holding a daisy in one hand and a letter in the other.

The days passed. You went to work. Answered emails. Ate meals that tasted bland while laughing at jokes you didn’t really hear. It felt like watching your life through a pane of glass, distant and blurred.

The world moved on. Even if your heart hadn’t.

Then came a rainy Tuesday.

You were home. Some movie played quietly on your laptop, forgotten. Rain tapped against the windows in a slow, mournful rhythm. Your thoughts were far away, drifting like mist across the months you had spent waiting for something that never came.

And then, the television screen flickered.

A news bulletin. Bold and sudden:

"Breaking: James Buchanan Barnes Cleared of All Charges—Declared a National Hero."

You froze. The world narrowed to that single line of text.

The broadcast shifted to a press conference. A stern official stood between Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, their faces solemn and resolute. A banner scrolled along the bottom of the screen:

FORMER WINTER SOLDIER CLEARED OF HYDRA TIES. RECOGNISED FOR SERVICE.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the volume.

"…confirmed Mr. Barnes acted under the control of HYDRA, without agency or consent. Effective immediately, James Buchanan Barnes is recognised as a national hero and is no longer under surveillance or threat of prosecution…"

The screen flashed to a still image.

He looked older. His hair longer. A neatly trimmed beard. Dressed in black. But the eyes—

Still him. Still Bucky. Still James, your James.

Your heart surged, and the bloom of hope was so sharp it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. He was alive and he was free, and, maybe, just maybe, he remembered you.

That night, you didn’t sleep. You lay in bed, wide-eyed, staring into the dark as your heart raced inside your chest. You clutched the edge of the blanket like it might anchor you to the present, but your mind had already slipped into the impossible.

What if he remembered? What if he didn’t? What if that image on the screen was the closest you’d ever come to having him again?

You whispered his name into the quiet.

"James."

And for the first time in a long time, you cried, but not out of grief. Not from the dull, suffocating emptiness that had made a home in your chest for so long. These tears were different.

They came quietly, gently, trembling as they slid down your cheeks, not like a flood but like rain after drought, soft, cautious, almost unsure if they were allowed.

They didn’t burn or tighten your throat, they were the kind of tears that came from something stirring deep within you, something fragile and new.

Hope. Not loud or triumphant, but tentative and real, finally given room to bloom in the quiet where pain used to live.

A week later, someone knocked on your door. The sound was gentle, soft, polite, almost hesitant, like the person on the other side wasn’t sure they belonged there.

You didn’t expect anything when you opened it.

But there he was.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Not a ghost conjured by longing. Not a photograph curled at the edges, tucked into your waller. Not a fading letter tucked into your drawer.

He was real. Breathing. Alive.

His hair was swept back, strands damp from the drizzle that clung to his shoulders. A dark coat framed him, soaked at the edges, heavy with travel and time. He looked older. Tired. The kind of tired that settles into bone. But his eyes—

His eyes were the same.

Cerulean. Clear. Devastatingly familiar.

The kind of eyes you had memorised in ink and silence. The kind that found yours like no time had passed at all.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly.

Your breath hitched, sharp and sudden, as if the air had been knocked clean from your lungs. The world tilted on its axis, everything slowing to a crawl as your heart thundered in your chest.

You couldn’t speak, your lips parted, but no sound came. He took a single step forward, cautious, gentle, almost as if he was afraid to break whatever fragile thread tethered you both to this moment.

His voice, when it came, was low and rough, but certain. “I remember everything.” The words cracked the air open, louder than any scream and heavier than the silence you had went through the past months.

Your hand flew to your mouth as tears spilled over, unrestrained, the kind that carried too much to name. “You—” you choked, barely able to force the word out.

“You remember me?” He didn’t rush. He didn’t falter. Just held your gaze with those same unwavering eyes, steady, soft, and full of the quiet kind of love you’d only ever read in his letters.

His smile was soft, quiet, steady, the kind of smile that said yes, always.

You moved before you could think, crossing the space in a heartbeat. Threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you without hesitation, like he’d been waiting, like this was the only thing that ever made sense.

His hold was steady, real, anchoring you in a moment you thought you’d never have. You pressed your face into his chest, breath hitching as the tears came, not from pain, not from fear, but from a joy so sharp it almost hurt.

He leaned down, cupped your cheek.

You looked up into his eyes, your own swimming.

He leaned down, hand warm as it cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin like he was still making sure you were real.

You looked up, eyes glassy, searching his face, and found nothing but certainty staring back.

Then, finally, he kissed you. Soft at first, tentative, as if he didn’t want to break you. Then deeper, steadier, like every word he had ever written had been leading here. Like every ache, every silence, every impossibly folded letter had been building to this one breathless second.

He kissed you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. And you kissed him like you’d been waiting since the moment you found his first letter.

Because maybe you had.

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed it, love you all and stay safe! the final chapter is coming soon! 🫶🏻

taglist: @ndanddnd @darling-eos @alikkatz @creepybake @maryssong23 @mgchaser @hiraethmae @coffeecigsandcommentary @iyskgd @silverdoragon @lori19 @counterstr1ke @cyberxlust @throwmethroughawindow @keira-kaz2y5 @herejustforbuckybarnes @tpwkyarely

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kentofu · 2 days ago

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“YOU SEE THEM TOO?”

i think a lot about baby ken... and the horrors he went through..

When Kento was four, he pointed to the shadow clinging to the corner of the kitchen ceiling.

"That thing has teeth," he said simply, legs swinging from the breakfast stool.

His mother dropped a dish. His father went quiet. They took him to doctors. They said it was stress, loneliness, imagination. He stopped pointing after a while. Learned that he saw the world a little differently—sharper, darker, uglier. He learned the silence that followed—cold and sterile—meant it wasn’t safe to speak the truth.

So he never did. Not until Jujutsu High.

Not until you.

He didn’t say anything at first. You were loud and bright and confident, hurling curse techniques like you were born to do it, like the weight of that grotesque, invisible world never settled too hard on your shoulders. It intimidated him—how you made space for joy even while staring down monsters.

But you talked to him anyway. You offered him onigiri during lunch breaks and stood beside him during missions. And over time, it became easier. Softer.

Then, one rainy afternoon in your third year, as you crouched beside him after an exorcism—bloodied and quiet—he said it.

“My parents thought something was wrong with me. When I told them I could see curses.”

You blinked. “Mine too.”

He turned to you slowly, rain slipping down his jaw.

“I thought I was broken,” he said.

You reached out, brushing a gentle hand across the back of his.

“No,” you whispered, fingers intertwining with his, “you were just alone.”

Now, years later, he’s home again. The war’s long over, and you’re both scarred and alive. It’s late, and you’re curled on the couch together, your fingers absently tracing the ridge of an old wound along his collarbone.

Kento stares at the ceiling in the dark. He’s always half-listening for footsteps, breathing, curses he hasn’t sensed yet.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “I forget what it’s like to not see them.”

You hum, sliding a hand over his chest, grounding him. “But you’re not alone anymore.”

His hand finds yours, warm and steady.

“I knew that the day you didn’t flinch when I said ‘I see them.’”

You kiss his shoulder, soft and sure. “Of course you see them. So do I.”

And for the first time in what feels like years, the shadows in the room seem to recede—not because they’re gone, but because he knows you’ll face them with him.

As always. As you have since the very beginning.

#my baby #my baby...#signed.miso #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami fluff #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen

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katnipp · 1 day ago

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i miss your mom too— kim chaewon

genre: FLUFFF

synopsis: chaewon babysits y/n’s dramatic shiba inu and ends up in a teary mess with the dogs. by the time y/n comes home, all three are crying—but don’t get the wrong idea

—

chaewon thought she had it under control.

y/n’s only going to be gone for six hours, she told herself as she sat on the couch, hoodie half-zipped and her hair tied back in a little messy bun. how hard could it be to babysit two dogs?

then shiro started crying.

not barking — crying. soft, pitiful little whines that broke chaewon’s heart every five minutes. he’d shuffle to the front door, look up at it like it betrayed him, then curl up in a dramatic ball on the welcome mat. beside him, y/n’s dog — an equally dramatic dog named tofu — would also whine, but more performatively. like he wanted shiro to know he, too, was grieving the temporary loss of his owner.

“guys,” chaewon said, already exasperated but helplessly soft, “she’s just at work.”

tofu whined louder. shiro sniffled.

chaewon sighed and grabbed both of their tiny faces in her hands. “you’re acting like she left for war.”

tofu licked her cheek. shiro gave a sad, squeaky sigh and flopped over like a wet sock.

“oh my god,” chaewon muttered. she laid flat on the floor between them, arms stretched out, hoodie sleeves covering half her fingers. the dogs immediately climbed onto her — tofu settling on her stomach, shiro curling up next to her like a heat-seeking missile.

they stayed there for five peaceful minutes before shiro started crying again.

“what do you want from me?” chaewon groaned, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers.

shiro looked at the front door.

chaewon exhaled slowly, then rolled over, hugging the poor puppy tightly.

“i miss your mom too,” she whispered, face buried in his fur.

⸻

by hour three, chaos had escalated.

chaewon had attempted a walk. it lasted six minutes. tofu refused to walk in a straight line, and shiro tried to lead them to y/n’s office — which was downtown. chaewon had to carry both dogs home, one under each arm like living, squirming bread loaves.

then they tried playing fetch. tofu brought the ball back exactly once. shiro chased a squirrel into a bush and refused to come out until chaewon bribed him with three pieces of cheese and a desperate plea.

at some point she gave up and turned on the tv. she curled up on the couch in y/n’s oversized blanket — the fuzzy one she always hogged during movie nights — with both dogs tucked beside her. tofu snored. shiro drooled. chaewon dozed off for about fifteen minutes before waking up in panic, thinking she’d missed a text from y/n.

there was no text. just a selfie of y/n in her office, looking unfairly pretty in glasses and a blazer, captioned:

“do they miss me yet :( 💔”

chaewon snapped a photo of shiro draped across her chest, mid-sob.

“he’s been crying for you for three hours. i miss you too. send help.”

y/n replied with four heart emojis and “hang in there baby 😭😭😭”

chaewon groaned and turned into a pillow.

⸻

by the time y/n’s keys jiggled in the lock, all three of them were emotionally wrecked.

shiro bolted from the couch like his tiny life depended on it, tail wagging like a maniac. tofu yapped and bounced in circles, nearly wiping out on the hardwood floor. and chaewon —hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes — stood slowly, arms stretched like a soldier returning from battle.

the second y/n opened the door, chaewon and both dogs launched at her.

“OH MY GOD,” y/n gasped, catching tofu mid-air and nearly collapsing under shiro and chaewon’s combined weight.

“you’re never allowed to leave again,” chaewon whispered dramatically, arms around y/n’s waist, face smushed into her shoulder. “our children were inconsolable. i was inconsolable.”

y/n giggled, burying her face in chaewon’s hair. “baby, i was gone for six hours.”

“six hours in dog time is like… forever.”

“okay, shakespeare.”

chaewon grunted and refused to let go. tofu whined and shiro nuzzled between their legs.

“i told him,” chaewon mumbled against y/n’s neck, “that i missed you too.”

y/n melted instantly. “oh my god.”

“i did. he was sobbing. sobbing, babe.”

“well… you’re both so dramatic,” y/n whispered, pressing a kiss to chaewon’s forehead. “but i missed you too.”

they stood there for a minute — tangled together in the doorway, wrapped in fur and love and the smell of peanut butter treats — until shiro let out one last cry and forced his way into y/n’s arms.

“okay, okay,” she laughed, cradling him like a baby. “i missed you too, shiro.”

chaewon huffed.

“what about me?”

y/n kissed her again. “you first, always.”

chaewon smiled — tired, happy, a little overwhelmed, but glowing in that way she only did when y/n looked at her like that.

“good,” she whispered. “don’t ever leave me alone with them again.”

—

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ialreadymadeyouapromise · 3 days ago

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

PAIRING: abby anderson x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: my kind of woman - mac demarco WORD COUNT: 1.3k NOTE: i need more people to write soft abby rahhh

navigation | request | abby anderson masterlist

the door clicked shut behind you, and for a second, just a second. you stood there in the hallway, staring at the handle as if it would explain what the last seventy two hours had taken out of you.

your body ached. not just in your muscles, even though those were screaming too. but deep in your bones. the kind that settles under your skin and makes you feel hollow.

you were too tired to think straight, too wired to rest.

so you did what your body moved you to do. walking into the bathroom, peeling off your stained clothes. the water ran long enough to fog the mirror and soak into your hair until it hung limp against your shoulders, but even then you didn’t move.

you just stood under the stream, forehead against the tile, eyes closed, letting the water try to wash off the days.

it didn’t work. but it helped.

now wrapped up in a towel, hair still damp, skin prickling with leftover cold, you stepped out.

pushing the door open gently.

and there she was.

the room was dim, the main lights off, only the soft orange glow of a desk lamp left on. it cast a warm ring across the blankets, catching the curve of abby’s shoulder, the shine of her hair. she was sprawled across your bed.

back propped on a pillow, one hand behind her head, the other curled around the spine of a book resting against her thigh. her legs were lazily parted, one sock halfway off, her usual post shower disarray that she never cared to fix.

you didn’t realise you were holding your breath until it left your lungs in one ragged exhale.

the towel clutched around your chest suddenly felt flimsy. not because you were embarrassed. god, no, but because standing there in front of her like that, exhausted and finally home, you were seconds from crying.

you hadn’t let yourself cry out there. not even when the storm had hit. not even when you were sure you wouldn’t make it back. but now? in front of her?

abby looked up, book pausing mid line.

something in her expression softened instantly. she didn’t speak. she just pressed her thumb into the page crease and slipped the bookmark into place before closing the book and setting it quietly on the nightstand.

then she opened her arms.

you didn’t hesitate.

you crossed the room before sinking into her. her hands came up immediately, one between your shoulder blades, the other low on your back, fingers spreading to cover as much of you as they could. you breathed her in. soap and abby. your towel shifted slightly as her arm wrapped tighter around your middle, but neither of you cared.

no urgency. no words.

just the sound of your breath against her collarbone. the brush of her fingers up and down your spine.

the silence stretched. full. full of what hadn’t been said on the radio. full of what couldn’t be said in front of the others. full of the way your bodies molded into each other.

as your eyes fluttered shut against her neck, you felt her chest rise with a deep inhale.

“i missed you,” she whispered first.

you barely managed your own reply, words muffled against her skin.

“i missed you more.”

her fingers gripped you just a little tighter at that.

you weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. pressed into her front, arms tangled, her thumb tracing mindless shapes on your back. you could’ve fallen asleep just like that, towel damp against your skin, cheek nestled into the hollow of her collarbone.

but she shifted.

not away. just enough to lean up on one elbow, looking down at you with that soft crease in her brow she always got when she worried.

“you’re cold,” she murmured.

you blinked slowly, still somewhere between asleep and floating.

“‘m’fine,” you mumbled, but you were shivering, you knew she felt it.

she didn’t argue. abby wasn’t the type. she just kissed your forehead and slid out from beneath you, legs swinging over the edge of the mattress. the bed dipped as she stood, moving toward the drawers on her side.

you watched her, eyes heavy lidded, towel slipping dangerously low on your chest.

she wore only a tank top and shorts, arms bare, muscles shifting as she bent to rummage.

she came back with one of her shirts. one of the older ones, soft and worn thin in places. you knew it well; she wore it on days she needed comfort. you knew it smelled like her even before you’d buried your face in it.

she knelt beside the bed, tugged gently at your towel. “arms up.”

you obeyed without a word. the towel slipped to your waist as she helped you out of it, not rushing, not leering, just… tender.

the shirt went on next. loose and long on you, falling to mid thigh. it smelled of her skin and the detergent you both hated but used anyway. she smoothed it down over your stomach before climbing back onto the bed behind you.

then came the brush.

you’d left it sitting on the nightstand, still damp from a hasty post shower attempt earlier. she reached for it wordlessly, moving behind you so your back was tucked against her legs. she gathered your damp hair in one hand, gently tugging it free from where it clung to your neck.

“don’t fall asleep yet,” she said softly, attempting to run her fingers through it. “you’ll wake up with a bird’s nest.”

you snorted a little. “wouldn’t be the first time.”

“yeah, but then i have to deal with it.”

you smiled.

the first pass of the brush through your hair made your whole body exhale. she was slow with it, starting at the ends like she always did, always gentle. she worked in silence for a bit, her hand resting against your neck whenever she paused to untangle a knot.

then, quietly, she started talking.

“today was boring,” she sighed. “inventory all morning. they keep screwing up the count in med storage. manny kept blaming the new kid, but it was actually him. he got defensive, so i told him he could do the math next time.”

you chuckled sleepily, leaning back into her legs.

she brushed a little slower.

“i saw nora at lunch. she asked about you. i didn’t say much, but i think she knew. she always knows.”

you hummed a quiet sound of agreement.

“i fixed the cabinet in the hallway. the one with the loose hinge. figured i'd save you before it pinched your finger again.”

you mumbled something half formed and drowsy in thanks, she huffed out a laugh above you.

her fingers stilled.

she divided your hair into sections with a kind of softness that didn’t belong to someone like abby. someone built like a tank, who could fire a rifle with one arm and lift a grown man with the other. but here she was, gently twisting your hair into a braid.

and it was. just for you.

she finished and tied it off with a thin band from her wrist, then leaned forward to kiss the crown of your head.

“there,” she said, arms sliding around your waist from behind, pulling you fully back into her chest. “now you can sleep.”

you turned slightly, just enough to see her profile in the dim light. the hardness she wore outside this room had melted off her completely. her eyes were half lidded, full of quiet contentment.

her hand slipped under the hem of the shirt to rest against your stomach.

you didn’t need to say anything.

but you did anyway.

“i love the way you take care of me.”

her lips twitched into a smile.

“i always will.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

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lily-bisque · 14 hours ago

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dad!gojo getting back into the dating scene after retiring from the sorcerer world… but it’s not exactly what you’d think. cw: controversial age gap, dead dove. visuals included in this work! continue at your own discretion.

he’s running a hand through his milky tresses, wondering if you, the girl he’s been chatting with from some dating site, and who’s far too young for him, can tell that he’s sporting a few grey hairs.

surprise, you can’t, because it matches his natural hair color but when was gojo ever rational when it came to his love life.

a real silver fox.

you were posing in your bathroom mirror, sporting your cotton boy shorts, delicate lace fringing the ends, a mini tank, and snapping selfies when you got that familiar text.

a flush covered your cheeks intrinsically as you held your phone in both hands, hurrying to open it.

satoru gojo: how’s my pretty girl doing?

you scoffed, a futile attempt to mask how jittery he made you, turning around and leaning against the sink counter as your thumbs typed away at your screen, an exhilarating rush coursing through your veins.

he was checking himself out in his camera, pulling his top up in his bedroom and gazing at his stomach, doing anything to distract himself from the impending message bubble from you that had his heart stuttering.

you: pretty good. but i’d bet you’d like to see just how good i’m doing.

that had blood rushing south for the old guy, feeling like a pale and lanky teenager again and not a near forty year old man texting a girl a decade younger than him.

he ran a hand over his jaw, thinking up a flirty response before his hands got to work.

satoru gojo: and you bet right. hundred bucks just for that.

you watched him deposit it into your account, standing on your tiptoes as adrenaline pumped through you.

see, gojo wasn’t just some guy you’d been talking to.

he was your sugar daddy.

college wasn’t easy to pay your way through and when you’d managed to stumble upon an incredibly rich, witty, respectful and probably pretty lonely old guy, who were you not to take advantage of it?

but still, you were positive that what was supposed to be harmless conversation and nude images turned into a blossoming crush.

as you fantasized over what you could spend the cash on as he always made sure you had more than enough to take care of yourself, twirling a strand of hair between two fingers, you got another text from him and opened it.

satoru gojo: a present for my pretty girl.

satoru gojo: [Photo Attachment]

your mouth fell slack at the sight, thighs clenching as your gaze raked over his bare figure.

the veins protruding from his v-line had slick pooling in your panties, feeling weak in the knees at the sight of his ripped figure. you could only wish he’d tossed the entire top off. you wanted to run your fingers down his abdomen, suck on the hard skin and mark it like he was your own.

you knew he was quite older than you, so it only attracted you a hell of a lot more to see just how much he kept up with his figure as if he was in his youth. the man has probably been in his prime for fifteen years.

gojo awaited your response, knee bouncing as he sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over and seeing the little read under his image.

maybe it wasn’t good enough, he thought.

he stood again, tearing his top off and standing before his full length mirror, flexing his biceps, running a hand down his rock hard abdomen and holding his phone up to take another picture.

he was so caught up in his reverie that he hadn’t even noticed the door propping open, two figures standing in the doorway and staring bewildered at him.

“gojo what the fuck?” megumi called out, dragging a hand down his now flushed face, embarrassed that his benefactor managed to always be so weird.

“woah, sensei. i had no idea you were so shredded,” yuji awe-d out, matching gojo’s previous pose as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

his kid and his student didn’t need to know what he was up to in his newly found free-time.

“it’s for, uh,” he drawled out, mind racking with an answer he was struggling to form. “my new gym community. wanted to show them my progress!” he exclaimed out, flexing a bicep at yuji to which the young boy clapped at.

after he’d kicked the boys out, he let out a sigh of telief, allowing his nerves to settle before he pulled his phone out from his pocket and opened the two texts you’d sent in the time away from his device.

you: why haven’t we met up yet?

you: [Video Attachment]

you’d already managed to send him just a little 10-second snippet of you in your bed, toying with yourself and whining out heady whimpers of his name.

you’d never sent him a video before.

satoru gojo: fuck. be a good girl and send your address over.

satoru gojo: let me help.

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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 13 hours ago

Note

Can you write a Bucky x reader fic where Reader doesn’t know she’s pregnant but Bucky and Steve hear a second heart beat before going on a mission? You could also have it that maybe Steve notices first and congratulates Bucky by pulling him aside and Bucky is slightly confused because he didn’t hear it right away since he’s always with reader.

Two Heartbeats||Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary — During a mission prep on the quinjet, Steve notices something strange he can hear two heartbeats coming from Y/N.

Word count—672

There was a quiet rhythm to missions—pack, prep, wait.

The hum of the quinjet filled the air, vibrating through the floor beneath your boots. You sat on the bench seat, flipping through the contents of your med pouch with habitual precision. Bucky was next to you, always next to you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. His fingers worked the straps of your tac vest without you even asking. It was a quiet intimacy you’d built over months of being partners, teammates… more.

Across the cabin, Steve stood by the rear control panel, eyes flicking from the mission data to something—someone. You.

You didn’t notice it at first, too focused on your checklist. But Bucky did. He arched an eyebrow.

“Steve,” he called casually, “You got something to say, or are you just admiring my girl?”

Steve’s head tilted, a flicker of concentration on his face. Not amused, not teasing. Listening.

“There’s something weird,” he muttered, then stepped closer. “I’m hearing two heartbeats.”

You glanced around, confused. “There’s six of us. That’s not exactly—”

“No,” Steve said, cutting you off gently. “I mean… from you.”

Your brow furrowed, halfway between confusion and unease. “That doesn’t make sense. I feel fine.”

Steve looked over at Bucky then, something shifting behind his eyes. Like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he said to Bucky, nodding toward the back corner of the jet.

Bucky gave you a quick look—you okay?—and you nodded, if a little bewildered.

They stepped aside. Steve’s voice dropped low. “I think she’s pregnant.”

Bucky’s face blanked for a second. “You think she—what?”

“I hear another heartbeat. It’s smaller, but it’s there. Consistent. Strong.”

Bucky shook his head, stunned. “But I’m with her all the time. I didn’t—how could I not hear that?”

Steve smiled. “That’s why. You’re used to her. Tuned to her. You weren’t listening for it.”

Bucky’s breath caught, realization dawning slow and wide in his chest. He turned back to look at you—sitting unaware, glancing through your pack like nothing in the world had shifted—and his heart tripped.

Because now that he was listening, really listening…

There it was. Just beneath yours.

A second heartbeat. Softer. Quieter. But real.

A life.

His legs carried him back to you before he even realized he was moving.

You looked up, puzzled. “What’s going on?”

He crouched in front of you, metal hand bracing against your knee. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “has anything felt… different lately?”

You blinked. “You mean aside from this weird tension and Steve acting like he’s about to drop a bomb?”

Bucky laughed, but it was breathless. His hand rose to your stomach, hovering, hesitant. “I think you’re pregnant.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“I didn’t hear it before. But I do now. Another heartbeat.” His eyes searched yours. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” you said slowly, barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve been tired. I thought it was stress or the missions, or just… life.”

His palm settled gently over your stomach. You both just sat there for a second—silent, still, wrapped in the hum of the quinjet and the weight of something enormous.

“You okay?” he asked softly, almost afraid to break the moment.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’m… surprised. And kind of terrified.”

“Me too.” His voice cracked. “But also kind of amazed.”

You stared at him, heart pounding—not from panic, but from something far more fragile. He looked at you like you were precious. Like you’d just given him something he never thought he could have.

Then you gave a breathless, stunned little laugh. “Well. Guess we’re not just packing a med kit this mission.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, then your temple. “I’ve got you. Both of you.”

You leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you like a shield, like a vow.

Two heartbeats.

And suddenly, everything had changed.

#faiths inbox #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader

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sturkillerbase · 10 hours ago

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Touch Starved!

Summary: How the JJK men touch you before and after being in a relationship with you - and how they're always dying to do so!

Neutral reader!

Including: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru (separated)

Genre: Fluff (lots of it!)

Wordcount: 5.8k total - 1.8k for Nanami and Gojo. 2k for Geto's

Notes: Very quick mention of periods in Gojo's, but it's so quick you can easily ignore it if you're a person who doesn't get periods. No physical descriptions and no use of Y/N.

Warnings: One brief mention of (little) blood.

A/N: Boy oh boy. This has been sitting in my docs for over a month as I ponder weather it's good enough for posting or not. Reasons being that 1. it's my first JJK fic and 2. I haven't written anything in over 2 years. So I'm really not confident about my rusty writing skills. When I was proofreading it, I thought Nanami's part wasn't good enough, but didn't know how to make it better! Which led to two more weeks of me not wanting to post it. But today I've summoned the courage and BAM! Here it is! Anyways, hope you like it (and let me know if you do, please)! Proofread but let me know if you spot some error.

Nanami Kento

Nanami never touches you. He may be dying for any kind of touch - a slight brushing of hands when you hand him something, your arms pressing against each other during a car drive, accidentally bumping into you as he enters the room you’re exiting – but none of it ever happens. He wouldn’t let it. He’s too respectful to let it happen. Damn, he’ll rush to the car just so he can take the passenger seat before anyone else does. Well, the front seats are more dangerous, of course he’ll take it so anyone else does. And his legs are longer anyway so there's more room for him. These are his actual reasons, right?

Plus, a ten-minute drive would turn into a ten-hour long one in his brain if you were pressed against him. Every tiny bump on the road making you press and rub on each other for a fraction of a second. He’d probably pass out.

The most he’d touch would be with his fingertips, ever so slightly, barely there even. And only on your shoulders or the very top of your back, in case he needed to walk past you in a narrow space, or maybe get your attention silently.

And even with that, he’d be flexing his hand open and then closing it into a tight fist, nervous like a little boy. His face was absolutely neutral, though. Yes, kinda like that one Pride and Prejudice scene.

There was this one time he really messed up. Couldn’t even sleep that night. He was sitting at the table, talking to Shoko, and as he described whatever it was that he was talking about (he couldn’t remember anymore), he stretched out his arm to the side in a gesture, just as you were walking by, and accidentally brushed your thigh, close to your knee. A feather-like, quick brush.

Oh no.

He apologized deeply. Sincerely. Guilt (and shame) in his face, his voice, his whole body. You said it was okay, that it was nothing, no need to worry. All while giving him that damn sweet smile of yours. You sat down as well, joining them, and as he felt heat creep up from his stomach to his neck, he excused himself and stood up quickly, fixing his perfectly-in-place tie, so none of you would see him blushing. What if you were just being nice? What if you thought he was disrespectful? A creep? What if you didn’t like him anymore? Hated him? He was in a cold sweat, laying on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, barely blinking.

But oh boy was he touch starved. He craved for the most simple things. Anything would do it at this point. A high five. A gentle poke of your finger on his shoulder. Taking an eyelash off your cheek with his fingertip and having you blow it away for luck.

He’d been thinking of a chance to hug you. Being able to feel your soft form against him as he gets to smell your lovely perfume straight out of you, and not just having the breeze blow it towards him. Honestly that breeze was very disrespectful, forcing him to smell things he couldn’t have.

How far was Christmas? He could hug you then. Or New Years perhaps. There was also your birthday. It’s okay to hug people on their birthdays, he could do that without being weird.

There was this other time that caused him to heat up like a boiler. You fixed his tie after he finished tying it back around his neck, after a particularly intense fight against several curses at once. Technically, you didn’t touch him, you just touched his tie. But he felt your fingers lightly on his chest, just above his dress shirt. That alone was enough to have him shaking. “There. Better.” You said, looking up at him with a soft smile. How did you manage to look so cute even after a crazy, tiring fight, clothes covered in dust, a tiny splash of blood across your cheek? He, once again, had to hide his intense blushing, muttering a low “thank you” as he looked away, cheeks red and ears on fire. He cleared his throat, trying to see if he could get his voice to sound anything above a whisper. He was just fine after all that fight, it was you who had taken away all of his strength. Thankfully, there wasn’t much light where you were to make his obvious blush contrast against his pale skin and hair. You didn’t see it.

He started dusting off his clothes, tapping away at himself, more to get his head out of those nervous thoughts than to actually clean himself. You did the same. And then, as he finally recomposed himself enough to turn back to you, your arm reached up. Up, up, up above his jaw, his ear, to the top of his head.

“There’s something here…” you said, nonchalantly, as you brushed out something that had gotten caught in his hair.

God, why were you so touchy today?!

He just watched your movement, thanking you with a little “mm-hm” – there goes his voice again.

There was something on your hair as well. He had noticed earlier. Could he brush it away for you too? Would it be weird if he did? Was doing that being a gentleman? Well, it wouldn’t be gentlemanly of him to let you walk out with something – a tiny thing – on your hair, right?

“There’s, uh-“ He started, nervous “you have something up here, too…” he said, and then reached for it with a touch so light you didn’t even feel it. But he did. And oh my, was your hair soft.

“Thank you.” you said, cheerfully. He gave you a brief nod.

“Yeah. No problem.”

He then quickly grabbed his phone to call Ijichi so he could come pick you two up and get him away from this dangerous scenario he found himself in: you.

When Ijichi finally arrived, Nanami did what he always does, and rushed to the passenger seat. And once you were all seated and buckled up, and Ijichi started driving again, Nanami cursed himself for forgetting to open the car door for you. Where were his manners? His mother taught him better than that.

Later that night, the warmth from your fingers adjusting his tie was still lingering on his chest. He covered his face with a pillow and let out a long, “I’m such an idiot”, loud breath.

Things didn’t change much after you started dating. He had, somehow, managed to gather up the courage to ask you out (this may or may not have involved Gojo telling him he would tell you about Nanami’s crush himself, in front of everyone, very loudly). On your first date, the only touch was your goodbye kiss on his cheek, which had him giggling and kicking his feet in the air the moment you closed the door to your place and he was out of your eyesight. He smiled to himself about it all through the night until he fell asleep, heart beating quickly.

On your third date, you slipped your fingers through his as you two walked around the park, under colorful trees. When you parted ways, his hand was burning, shaking even. He considered not washing it that day.

On the fourth date, he was bold! Reaching across the table to hold your hand. That night, he took another extra step and kissed your cheek back, slipping a gentle pinch to your chin as he wished you a good night, which had you melting.

Took him a few more dates to get comfortable touching you. Now, don’t get him wrong. He wanted to do it desperately, but he didn’t know if he was more afraid of disrespecting you or just touching you at all, like a pre teen boy around his very first crush. Still, he’s a man who takes his time, and respects yours above all else.

After you’re in an established relationship though, Nanami can finally wrap himself around you, just like he’s always dreamed of. And much before Christmas too! He’ll kiss you all over when you least expect it. He’ll lay on your lap, or lay on you, as you’re resting on the couch. You never fell asleep without being in his arms again - except when he cuddles into you and you have him in your arms instead. He’ll hug you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder as you do something, even as you’re brushing your teeth. And don’t be surprised when he does it while you’re showering too! Walk by him whenever he’s sitting down and be sure he’s going to pull you into his lap, earning a cute little gasp from you. He holds you with so much care and love, like you’re the very reason for his breathing, but at the same time tight enough to make sure you’ll not, somehow, slip away. Like you would ever!

His kisses? Slow, tender, filled with love and affection, eyes full of adoration as he pulls away and looks into your own, gently caressing your cheek. You didn’t know you could ever meet someone with so much love in them. Nanami didn’t know he could feel so much love in him.

He’s the softest. And he’s the softest even in your most private moments, when things get particularly intense. Within the rough gripping and the clashing of teeth, you can still feel the tenderness in his touch, and the extra care in the little love bites he leaves all over your body. He may grab your neck or pull your hair, but always a bit less than you both know you can take. You’ve told him he could let go, but that’s just Nanami. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than that to you. Even if he wanted to give you that extra harsh slap that you ask him for (beg even) as you’re out of breath, his hand just… can’t.

And you love him exactly as he is.

He’s not one for a lot of public display of affection. He likes to keep his private life private. Also, he’s a bit shy when around others. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do anything at all. Holding your hand, keeping an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead, taking your arm into his as you walk through a crowded place - he couldn’t bare accidentally getting separated from his dearest.

And don’t forget the little soft pinches on your chin, just like that one time on your fourth date. He normally sneaks those when you’re in a setting where he can’t give you a quick kiss, or, honestly, just for the fun of it, because he loves to watch you absolutely melt, cheeks growing pink and a childish smile spreading on your face. Every time. Every. time.

Sometimes he even thinks that you might be his actual heart, and this thing that is beating inside his chest is just… something else.

And when he looks at you, no matter where or when, he just knows he will never stop being so eager to touch you, however it is. How could he? You’re the love of his life, after all.

Gojo Satoru

Now, we all know Gojo is all over everybody. Always slinging his arms around other people’s shoulders and invading their personal space. Especially if it’s someone he’s fond of. Not that he doesn’t touch people he dislikes and that he knows dislike him back, just to annoy them. It’s his not-so-secret pleasure.

So yeah, he’s always all over you. Giving you attention or pouting as he begs for your attention. It becomes more and more frequent, and he doesn’t hide it. Soon it’s clear for everybody that he's crushing hard on you. The students start teasing him during class and as they cross paths at school, but he just let’s them. It’s the truth, anyway.

But if you think he’s not touch starved even though he’s constantly touching you, you’re wrong. Very wrong. He’s longing, aching for more. And it’s not sexual, no. Not that the thought hasn’t crossed his mind more than once, but it’s not it. He wants to pick you up and bury his nose on your neck. Wants to kiss you every time you do something great, and kiss you every time for no reason other than wanting to as well. Wants to hold you extra close, your body tight against his, face on his chest, as you two fall asleep together. He wants you to run your fingers through his hair as he lays on your lap after a long, exhausting day. Wants to massage your neck and shoulders when you are the one who had a long day. Once you complained about menstrual cramps and said you really wish you had a heat bag around. Well, it took everything on him to not launch himself at you and place his warm hands over your lower belly (yes, he’s an “uterUS” guy).

When he gets to hug you, as in, when he just hugs you for no reason, he gets your scent all over him and his clothes for the rest of the day, and oh, he loves it. Find him walking around with a dumb(er) smile plastered on his face for the rest of the day. But when night comes and he’s alone at home, he begins to despise it, because you’re not there. And of course he’s gonna make it everyone’s problem by texting the guy group chat he made exclusively for talking about his crush on you. Poor Geto and Nanami (Nanami has left the group chat several times, but Gojo keeps adding him back). He even sends whiny audios.

He doesn’t want to mess things up with you. So he’s also asked the girls around him for dating advice. Shoko quickly dismissed him with a thick puff of cigarette smoke. Mai just told him “don’t” because she thinks you deserve better. Nobara started by listing all the reasons he was not fit for having a girlfriend, but eventually started talking so much about what a guy should do and how a guy should behave that he had to start taking notes on his cellphone so he wouldn’t forget anything. Of course, when he thanked her, she made him buy her a new jacket as an actual thank you.

And while he doesn’t come up with a date idea he’s satisfied with, he’ll have to settle with what he has for now.

And as you two get even closer, you start to get touchier too. You start by poking him around every now and then, eyes glowing with mischief when you find his ticklish spots. You lean into him as you two are looking down at the same thing. Hold onto his arm randomly, just because. Until you also start hugging him at any chance you get. And oh boy, is Gojo absolutely delighted. His hopes were more up than ever, and this was a sample of heaven. Actual heaven would be when you two finally get into a relationship. Preferably married. Geto and Nanami keep having to tell him to calm down.

Your first date wasn’t like Gojo planned. In fact, he didn’t even ask you out. But it wasn’t bad at all.

It happened when you two found yourselves in a strangely romantic setting after fighting some grade one cursed spirits that showed up in the middle of a crowded carnival. Of course, everyone fled the place, and it was deserted, but everything was still working (except for a couple rides and tents that were destroyed during the fight). So, you and Gojo grabbed some (free!) snacks and headed to the ferris wheel, admiring the night sky together.

“This kinda feels like a date, doesn’t it?” He said after a brief moment of comfortable silence, without thinking much, and mentally facepalming at his dumb ass and big mouth. He kept his eyes glued onto the sky after this and stuffed his face with more candy.

“Do you want it to be?” You asked, chill on the outside, shaking on the inside.

Gojo looked at you so fast his neck actually hurt, eyes wide and cheeks full of candy, just like a chipmunk. He swallowed it all down with a big, kinda painful gulp.

“Well, I– I wouldn’t mind…” he answered, his heart beating so fast his chest was hurting. Or was it the candy he swallowed way too soon?

You could see his whole face turning red even under the dim light, and you held back a giggle. Seeing this big guy turn into a very tiny one so quick was adorable.

“Cool. It’s a date, then.” You said with a smile.

It was no surprise that you two kissed on that very same night, you being as down bad for him as he was for you. Gojo was glad your eyes were shut as you kissed, this way you couldn’t see him frowning and scrunching up his nose as he tried his best not to kiss you desperately. ‘Be normal, Gojo Satoru’, he thought to himself.

Of course, he acted like his super chilled self once you parted, smiling like he wasn’t squealing like a little girl in his head.

Didn’t take long after he became your boyfriend for him to start suggesting you two should move in together. Took even less time for him to start begging for it.

“But baby, I want to cuddle with you every night, and wake up still holding you every day, and have the entire house smelling like you always, especially when you walk out of the shower. I want to sniff all that soap scent out of you. Please! I don’t want to be left with just some pictures of you when I could have real you there.” He said the last sentence with a big pout and huge puppy eyes. You had come to find his eyes could, somehow, get even bigger when he was being whiny like this.

You had also come to find that you couldn’t say no to him.

Damn that lanky man.

Oh, and by “some pictures”, don’t believe him. It was loads of pictures. There were countless pictures of your face everywhere in his house: in the living room, in the kitchen, the bedroom, the study, and even in the bathroom. Yes, he hung one there and refused to take it out. Even when you moved in. So you gave up trying to get it out of there and instead hung a picture of him by yours.

He loved it.

Although finally satisfied with how much he could touch you at any time he wanted, at night he would still wrap himself all around you, entangling his long legs with yours, elated that you were his at last. It was uncomfortable sometimes, having these bumps between you and the mattress, but getting out of his embrace wasn’t a choice. All you could do was wiggle and grunt a little until he moved his limbs into a more comfortable position for you - because he, for one, didn’t mind being uncomfortable as long as he was all around you. Holding you tight was his idea comfortable. And God, if he could become one with you he absolutely would.

Even during summer, he would turn on the AC on the lowest setting just so he could be all over you without you complaining about it being too hot. And if the house got too cold, don’t worry, he’ll heat you up with his whole body, like a personal, portable heater. Or a living blanket.

You were never cold during winter either, because at the smallest of the chills on your body, he would be there. Be it by rubbing your arms and hugging you while you were out or pulling a warm, fuzzy blanket over the two of you when you were home. Hell, he didn’t even think it was that bad when you mischievously put your ice cold feet on his back simply for the fact that that was you touching him. And your punishment for this? Being trapped tightly in his arms while he showers you with quick, loud kisses that makes the skin on your face and neck tickle. Oh, and he will sneak a kiss right on your ear, just to watch you squirm and the goosebumps on your skin, your laugh and his filling the room.

Worried you'll crush him when you lay on top of him. Well, worry no more, really - he wants you to.

Gojo couldn’t be any happier.

And that group chat? Never forgotten. He would still constantly update the boys on everything you two did together.

“We fought :C”

“We’re talking again!!!!”

“We went out and had swiss roll cake today ☺️”

Nanami blocked him when he got the “GUYS, IT HAPPENED! WE SPENT THE NIGHT TOGETHER” message. If there was one thing Nanami would not read it would be what Satoru Gojo did in bed with someone.

But be not afraid. Gojo would never, ever expose you like that. No. He’d pluck his eyes out and die before he did anything harmful to you. What he did was ramble on and on about how perfect it was and how happy he was and how it was everything he’d dreamed of and more.

Poor Geto (who has the patience of a saint, really) had to go through it all, reading each new message slowly, with care and fear, also afraid that Gojo could end up spilling too much in his excitement.

All Geto could say after Gojo was done talking was “I’m glad for you, Satoru 😊”, earning several lovestruck stickers from Gojo.

Since he started dating you, it never took too much to make the man happy. Just being with you, seeing you, or even just mentioning you was enough to have him glowing.

But nothing compared to having you in his arms, safe and sound.

It did take a whole lot to get Nanami to unblock him, though.

Geto Suguru

Dear Geto’s hands are tingling, itching, burning to touch you. When he’s watching you, he unconsciously starts fidgeting with his hands, rubbing his fingers together, digging his nails into his palms, cracking his fingers, shoving them into his pockets so he can grab the fabric of his pants.

Gojo notices how Geto starts doing this more and more often, but he hasn't figured out why yet. Until the day he’s finally going to ask Geto if he’s alright, and if there’s anything going on. When he shifts his gaze from Geto’s hands to his face, he catches him stealing a look at you, not so discreet this time. He was clearly not paying attention to what Gojo was saying just seconds ago.

A smile creeps up on Gojo’s face. He thinks it’s cute, really. Seeing his best friend fall for someone. But what’s much, much better is that now he’s got an amazing reason (or should we say one more) to tease poor old Suguru nonstop.

But what Geto doesn’t realize is that he’s already touching you. All the time. You two are close friends. Have been for good a while. And he’s always respected you, obviously. You are comfortable around each other. So it kind of makes sense that he doesn’t notice when he starts doing so.

He’ll sometimes whine about being tired as the two of you are sitting down on the couch, and lay his head on your shoulder. He also does that when you show him something on your phone. If you two are standing, he’ll rest his cheek on your head.

Other times, he’ll just hook his pinkie around yours as you walk side by side. When you’re in a crowded place though, he’ll either walk behind you with his hands on your shoulder, especially if he's guiding you somewhere or you're guiding him, or sneak his arm around your waist. Depends if he’s feeling more playful or moody that day.

Oh, and speaking about waist, that’s his absolute favorite spot to hold you. He’s standing or leaning somewhere and you come by? He’ll immediately reach out for your waist and pull you close, having you rest your body against his. He’s sitting down and you’re standing? There comes that arm firmly pulling you to him, thumb gently rubbing your side.

The latter had you start to (also subconsciously) do something similar: if you’re sitting and he stops by your side, you’ll give his pants a gentle tug to get him to stand closer so you can rest your head on his hip. And no one is surprised when, after a while, Geto’s hand goes from resting on your shoulder to caressing your head.

Oh, don’t forget the amazing bear hugs he’ll give you all of a sudden, making you gasp in surprise and then start to giggle as you hug him back, wonderfully nestled into him.

He doesn’t even have to look before reaching for you anymore. He’s memorized all the bits of you at this point. He would think it’s ridiculous, hadn’t he been so oblivious to his own actions.

And you enjoy it all, leaning into him and basking in the warmth and peace that radiate from him. Because you like him just as much as he likes you. You just don’t know it yet.

Gojo noticed this not too long after noticing Geto’s feelings for you. He actually realizes you like Geto much before you do. And he’s perplexed by it all. How can the two of you be so oblivious about it?! He’s so perplexed he doesn’t even tease as much as he normally would, too invested into watching the two of you being absolutely clueless around each other. Eventually he starts talking about it with Shoko, and they obviously make a bet on who’s going to confess first.

Geto also finds himself growing jealous and rather possessive of you (in a normal way, not in a toxic, creepy way). If looks could kill, so many people would’ve spontaneously combusted by now, just from the glare he sends anyone that stands too close or gets too funny around you. Especially that one friend of yours who’s way too comfortable with you. He’ll watch from a distance until his patience is entirely over, and then immediately make his way to you, arm glued to your waist before he’s even stopped walking, a fake ass smile on his face as he says something like “what are you two talking about?” or “what’s up, honeycomb?”. Or, to that friend he’s seen more times than he’d like, “I’m sorry, have we met before?”. He’ll even add an “Are you sure? I think I would remember you if we did” when he’s feeling extra spicy.

And still Geto Suguru’s hands are aching for you, for how touch starved he is. And he’s still fidgeting with them the moment he lays eyes on you.

Then, after far too many weeks of suffering - and finally telling his bestie about his crush - he’ll whine to Gojo about being so desperate for anything from you. About how glad he would be if he could at least hold your hand or have just one little touch from you. And he’s still mid mental breakdown speech when Gojo interrupts him with a

“Bro, are you serious right now?”

And when he doesn’t understand Gojo’s question, the white-haired man has to tell him all that he's been watching for the past few months.

“You two just haven’t fucked at this point. Or have. But I really don’t wanna know.” Gojo shudders at the thought. “What I’m saying is, we all thought it was cute and funny in the beginning, but now it’s becoming almost painful to watch. Shoko and I are nearly giving up our bet. Nanami’s considering moving to the countryside sooner.”

And the ridiculous look that Geto has on his face, speechless, mouth dropped to a perfect shocked “O” after hearing it all, is priceless. Gojo is dying to pull out his phone and take a picture of him, but he’s not in the mood to get beat up at the moment (he got his hair cut today, ok?).

But Shoko, being the icon she is and having just entered the room after hearing her name, captures the moment perfectly, making the picture their groupchat’s icon right away.

Geto’s mostly silent for the rest of the day, processing the information. It was all so simple, so natural to be that close to you that he didn’t realize he was already all over you. He’s stunned. At himself, mostly, more than the situation as a whole. How did he not notice? Geto Suguru, who’s always so aware of himself, his every thought and every move (no wonder everyone thinks he’s so gracious, even when he’s sitting with his legs spread open).

He starts getting anxious that night soon after going to bed. What if he had gone too far? Invaded your personal space? What if you were secretly hating it, disgusted and uncomfortable, but couldn’t find a way out of this situation. He knows you can defend yourself damn well, but if that had messed you up mentally, things aren’t as easy and simple as kicking him in the balls.

But then you would’ve made something at this point, right? Avoid him and distance yourself. Plus, you’re close friends with Gojo as well, you would’ve said something or asked him for help if that was the case.

Also, Gojo may be stupid, but he’s not that stupid. And he’s got good eyes. He knows you well. If he says you like him too, the chances of that not being true are very low.

That calms him down… A little.

He decides that he’s got to think of something. Do something. If not ask you out, at least talk to you. Make things clear. And apologize if he has to.

And then he, once again, unconsciously slips into daydreaming about a scenario where luck is on his side, and instead of laying down on his own to go to sleep as he is right now, he’ll be able to fall asleep with his arms practically tied around you, his nose shoved against your head so he can intoxicate himself with that delicious smell of your shampoo. He thinks falling asleep due to low oxygen because of doing so is a great way to fall asleep.

As you become significant others, he’s still doing all that he used to do (and much more, of course), but in a deeper way.

He’ll lay his head on your shoulder and loop his arm around yours. He’ll fully hold your hand, interlocking your fingers. His hand is firm against your hip, holding you close to him. When he pulls you close as you’re standing and he’s sitting, he’ll loop his arms around your leg and hold your thigh, or both your thighs, as he rests his head on your side. Or he might pull you to his lap, nonchalantly. Who knows?

Those bear hugs? Expect loads of them. Surprise or not. And now he’s also picking you up and showering you with kisses. He falls in love even harder when you get all giddy when he spins you around.

And his favorite, the arm around your waist as you two stand there. Now both his arms are around you, tighter than ever, obviously possessive even though he (again) doesn’t realize how possessive he looks when he does that. Especially when he’s leaning against something and his leg is slipping between yours, your hips tight against him, and he’s resting his chin on you (he doesn’t know why, but this one is heaven to him).

He’s so about touching you and feeling you, that when you’re in bed together, he doesn’t see the point of using something else to tie you up when he can just hold you in a position himself. He’ll use his own body and weight to keep you down, or, if he can’t hold you as he’d like (he only has two hands, unfortunately) he’ll command that you hold yourself in place so can use his hands to hold wherever else he’s got his mind on. You obey, obviously, mischievous or desperate, depending on how fucked up you already are at that point.

Aftercare? Showering you (he’ll clean you up in bed if your legs are too wobbly) and massaging your whole body, of course. He’ll kiss your body, following his hands, as he goes on, whispering sweet nothings. Then, he’ll pull you against his chest, wrapping both arms around you, so you can fall asleep listening to the always-calm, steady thud of his heartbeat. You’re both still naked, skin on skin, to be able to be as close to each other as humanly possible. He’s the happiest man on Earth.

He’s not shy of kissing you in public, either. From a peck to an open mouthed kiss, he’ll do it all. You’re the one growing red all over, actually. Having to push against his chest so he’ll pull away, especially when he’s going at it for too long.

“Oh, let them watch.” he murmurs as you point that everyone’s looking, your eyes darting everywhere in embarrassment “They’re either happy for us or straight up jealous” He says with those beautiful eyes of his staring so deeply into yours that you swear he can see your soul. “I’ve got the prettiest little thing there is anyway. All mine.” He holds your chin and kisses you one last time. He’s a teaser, but he respects it every time you ask him to stop.

Another thing he’s come to love is having you brush his hair, whether it’s in the morning or after naptime. Or at some random moment, just because he wants to feel you gently brushing it. And his favorite is after washing his hair. He’ll grab his hair products and comb and rush to you, closing his eyes as you gently untangle his hair and the delicate, flowery smell of the products fill the room. You always end it with an “all done, baby!” and a kiss to his forehead, and he thanks you looking up at you with loving eyes, following with a kiss on your lips. He wouldn’t trade moments like this for nothing in the world.

He loves you. And he loves loving you. And he adores holding you however it is.And even after all this time, his hands still itch, still tingle, still burn, and still get all fidgety every time he looks across the room and his eyes find you.

P.S.: Might write a part 2 of this for more characters once I get more comfortable with writing them, like Ino, Choso and Higuruma!

Divider by @uzmacchiato

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wayeasier · 3 days ago

Text

COUNT TO TWENTY-TWO — part four

⋆˙⟡ robert (bob) reynolds x reader (thunderbolts*)

summary: You're out of the vault, alive and well. But something happens, or maybe someone happens. Bob is suddenly then gone and you're stuck with the other three strangers. From four strangers to three. Then once again to four, but it's not Bob being the fourth one this time.

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, thunderbolts* spoilers (obviously)

author's note: english is not my native language, so i apologize for all grammatical errors / mistakes in my writing (if there are any!)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR ...

Bob’s boots dragged faint lines through dusty mud of the desert beneath him, his legs barely keeping pace. His arms slung over both John and Yelena’s shoulders as they dragged him. His legs kicking up dust every time now and then as they dragged him. His knees barely lifted off the ground.

You trailed right behind them. Your, rather the stolen one, rifle tucked tightly into your arms, your eyes scanning left and right and then back onto the three people in front of you. You tried to blend in between the troops in the dark night. As you walked down from the entrance of the vault, more geared troops entered from where you've exited. Still looking for you four. Thinking you're hiding inside that vault that Valentina had sent you to die in.

In front of you, you heard Bob murmuring something, "I don't want to be carried anymore..." he said quietly as he dragged his tactical boots covered feet across the ground, his arms slung over the two people's shoulders beside him like an injured soldier.

"Shut up, Bob. You're injured, remember?" John on his right muttured quietly to him, speaking through his gas-mask. His voice muffled and quiet.

You were about to shift your gaze to the way ahead when something, or rather someone, caught in your interest. A rather recognizable figure standing to your right. The white strand in her hair flashed like a a diamond in the darkness. Her posture was so elegant, sharp, almost like she did not even belong into the action happening around her. It was unmistakably Valentina.

Your fingers tightened around your rifle in your arms. For one brief moment your mind jumped and you imagined stepping out of line and raising it. Aiming at the woman. Just one shot. Just one. Straight at her. She'd fall and nobody would've noticed from where the shot had came from. Dead on the spot. But you didn't. You continued walking. Trailing after the three people in front of you.

The three people in front of you stopped just between two black military vehicles. You stood a step behind them, rifle lowered but still clenched in your hands. You looked around, looking for a truck, where Ava would be.

"We need a truck," you heard John mutter as they looked at the vehicles around. Looking for the one Ava was supposed to be in. Or at least close by. Maybe she had left. Why would she even wait for you? You're nobody, you all are just unknown strangers to her.

"Where's Ava?" Yelena asked, scanning the surroundings around her for the familiar phasing woman she had met today in the vault.

"She's gone," Bob muttered quietly, staring ahead with disappointment. John breathed out and echoed back, "of course, she is."

On a spur of a moment, the gravel and dusty ground underneath your boots shifted. A vehicle was nearing to your left. A low growl of a engine sounding out as it neared. Your fingers tightened on the rifle in your hands instinctively. You turned your head towards the truck, its lights shining right into your face. You squinted under the helmet, looking at where the driver was supposed to be. The cab was completely empty. Nobody behind the wheel. Nobody with their feet on the gas pedal, but the vehcike was moving forward. You raised your rifle in your arms, angling it straight towards the front of the truck. The others hadn’t noticed. Still standing there, the three of them, staring ahead.

You took a cautious step back. Edging away from the driverless truck. It stopped just in front of you. The driver’s seat, which had been empty just a second ago, flickered, and the familiar face appeared. Ava phased into visibility and leaned through the opened window slot.

"Hey! Get in!" she barked, her voice sharp toonly alert you and the three others behind you. The three in front of you finally turned. John jerked around first nearly hitting Bob in the head as he turned. Yelena’s head snapped to the side as she quickly scanned the newly appeared vehicle and person behind her. Bob simply blinked, a stunned expression on his face under the gas-mask helmet.

Yelena turned towards you and nodded towards Bob on her left, "you two go in the back. Walker and I will take the front with Ava."

John gave a short nod, then tugged Bob forward roughly,. No longer acting as if Bob was injured. You were first to move as you were closer to the vehicle. Your new weapon still clenched tight across your chest. You then rounded the back of the truck and reached your gloved hand at the rear doors, your fingers dragging themselves over the small handle there. You popped the doors open with a mechanical clunk. You let out a grunt as you pulled them wider open. They were indeed not light. They were pretty heavy. The interior inside was dark and just enough room for gear and military personnel. Pretty uncomfortable looking.

You opened the doors and moved to the side, letting Bob jump into the back of the truck first. Sliding into a seat on the right, landing with a breathless sigh.

"You're gonna be okay back here?" Yelena asked him as he started to take off his gas-mask helmet. Bob finally took off his helmet and shook the hair out of his face, "yeah! I won't be alone!" he answered the blonde woman, slightly out of breath.

"Yeah?" the blonde woman asked him again, she moved out of way and let you jump into the back of the truck as well.

"Yeah!" he echoed back, a smile adoring his face as he looked at you sliding on a seat opposite him, tour knees burshing against the tactical armored part of the pants on his knees.

"Okay. You too?" the blonde woman turned towards you, asking if you were okay back here as well. You started taking your helmet off with one hand and showed her thumbs up with your other hand to confirm her question.

"Okay," Bob echoed again and the blonde woman shut the doors closed with a loud noise. You finally took off the helmet and let out a loud breath, finally filling your lungs with normal air after being trapped under that mask. Bob next to you looked around and breathed out a loud exhale of his breath. His hair disheveled and messy. The hair stuck up awkwardly, sticking to all sides. He blinked around the dim interior of the truck.

You turned slightly towards him, resting the helmet on the floor and letting your rifle lean against the metal seat just beside your leg. He rubbed the back of his neck under his longer hair, then dropped his hand into his lap, fingers fidgeting with the loose strap of his vest that was falling just on his lap.

"Woah... You were—uh—really cool. Cool. You were cool!" he said with a small half-laugh. You noticed that his right leg was nervously bouncing up and down. A nervous habit of his, definitely.

"Cool?" you raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. Stretching your legs before you slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable in the tactical gear that hugged you. You leaned back against the truck wall opposite him, smiling at the man, "listen... You weren’t bad yourself. You didn’t die. That’s a pretty cool performance as well when you think from where we just came from.”

"Then we’re both cool, don’t you say?” you added with a chuckle, nudging your foot against his lightly. The one which was bouncing ip and down. That made him look to where your boot was and he nudged you back with a smile. His leg then stopped bouncing and stayed put right against yours.

Bob raised his head at that, eyes meeting yours, "we are cool!” he agreed with a grin, then quickly added, “But you are waaaay cooler."

You tilted your head, grinning wider at the boy, "you're better looking though.”

That did it for him.

His mouth opened like he had something to say, but nothing came out at that flicker of a moment. His cheeks flushed almost immediately, eyes darting to the floor, then to the ceiling, then back to you. His ears were red like strawberries. His eyes were running around the iterior of the truck and then they snapped back up to you, "uh—well—I mean—uh—” he gave a laugh, half-embarrassed and ran his hand through his already chaotic hair that is sticking to all directions, "I—um—thanks? You are though—"

Before either of you could say anything to this conversation, the truck suddenly rolled to a complete stop. You sat up straighter, instinctively reaching for the rifle which is leaning against the seat next to your leg. Bob opposite you did not move, he stared at you with open mouth. Unblinking.

You leaned forward, listening to what they're saying in the front because you're hearing voices. One of them is John's and other one is unfamiliar. A more dominant, professional one. They must have gotten stopped. They're asking John and Yelena to identify themselves, demanding answers. You were also hearing footsteps outside the truck.

Then, across from you, Bob suddenly started moving. Very fast and hurriedly. You turned with your eyebrows raised, "what are you—Bob?” you hissed at him, watching in confusion as he began yanking at the straps of his vest and on the zipper to get it off himself, "what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. His jaw was set and his fingers moved quickly on the zipper of the vest after he got all the straps unhooked. The gear came off piece by piece. He then shoved down the tactical pants and kicked them on the floor of the vehicle. Revealing the familiar hospital-like light blue or green pajamas that he was wearing back in vault.

“Bob!” you snapped, scrambling across to him and catching his arms which were working on the tactical jacket he had underneath the vest, "stop! What are you doing?”

He lifted his head slowly. There was a hesitation in the way his gaze met yours. A slight hint of something in the way his eyes lifted. His face was flushed. His forehead was close to yours now. So close that his soft breaths brushed your face. He was so close to you. You were so close to him.

“I need to help,” Bob whispered, his voice low, only for you to hear, “you guys need to leave."

You blinked at him. Your face scrunching in confusion. You leaned in closer, "Bob, Bob, Bob, no... No, you’re coming with us."

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he reached out and gently touched your face. His hands shaking. Knowing that if he doesn't think straight, he will let you be in pain again. Then, with the hesitation writing itself all over him, his warm palms which were shaking slightly cupped your cheeks. Warm and shaking. His thumbs hovered along your jaw. Both of his big palms on your cheeks, holding your face. His face such a small amount of centimeters away from yours. His thumb swiped along your jaw and his eyes looked around your face for a moment. They fell upon your lips for a moment, but then they jumped back up to your eyes. His eyes were like little dark wells. The palms on your face weren't just a touch. It was intimate and close. Almost as if it was an apology. A thank you.

A goodbye.

You barely whispered, your voice cracking in the air, "you won’t reappear like me, Bob. I should be the one—”

But he only shook his head, and his eyes glistened with something heavy inside them, "I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his voice growing quiet, but more deep.

Then, without warning, the tenderness in his hands vanished. Both of his warm palms slid and dropped from your cheeks to your shoulders. They touched your gear covered shoulders. Fingers adjusting for a bit.

Then he shoved you. Hard.

You cried out as your back slammed against the cold metal wall of the truck, your rifle clattering beside you. Your head, which was not covered by the helmet slammed backwards against the wall. Your head bouncing from the impact. Definitely alarming the three people in the front. The pain shot through your entire body and through the shot shoulder. The air was knocked out of you and you wheezed out a weird noise, like a gasp. You gasped in shock, trying to process what had just happened. Bob was already moving. He tore the door open and grabbed the rifle he had put on the seat beside him just a moment before.

You opened your mouth to call out at him, but the air was still knocked out of you and you only wheezed out his name. His head turned and he gave you one last look. A promising one. He ran off back into the danger. All alone.

Then, a sharp sounds of echo of the gunshots shattered the outside air. You heard Bob yell, "I'm here!" and you were qucik to gasp, he was sacrificing himself, shooting the rifle into the air to alarm others of himself.

You scrambled to your feet, your limbs stiff and hurting from the crash against the wall. The truck doors still hung open and through them you could see figures of the armed troops sprinting in the direction Bob had gone in.

“No, no, no,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing your rifle, pushing yourself off the floor in pain. Then a weird glitch-like shimmer pulsed right beside you.

Ava, with her mask on, phased directly through the wall. Her face moved towards the open doors of the truck and then down at the empty space on the seat where Bob had been only moments before. She quickly phased herself back into the front to most likely tell others. Then she was quickly back into the back with you, her mask disappearing off.

"Where is he?" she asked you, crouching right beside you.

You looked up at her, your lungs burning, your breath stuttering out of you. It hurts to speak, he shoved you too well, "he—he left,” you rasped out with a hard breath, "he left! He wants to help. Ava—he’s going to die!”

You scrambled back to your feet, pain pulsing through you. Then you tried to push past her. Tried to throw yourself out of the truck and run right after him. Ge him before he gets himself hurt. Or worse. But she caught you quickly. Her arms locked tight around your waist as you moved yourself to get out.

“Stay!” she snapped, her voice loud as she gripped you harder, "stay, stay, stay!”

You shoved Ava’s arms off with desperation and leapt from the back of the truck, boots slamming hard against the gravel below you. Your breath was hitched. Hard to breathe. Your legs carried you forward before your mind could catch up, eyes on the scene before you.

There he was. Bob.

His hospital pajamas showing him off against the sea of black armor that surrounded him. He stood in front of the vault's entrance, rifle raised straight into the air. He was alone there.

Hundreds of troops encircled him. Guns drawn right at him. Pointed straight across his chest. You stopped, breath caught in your throat, your boots frozen in place. Your jaw dropped as you looked at the sight. Then the gunfire burst in a storm. Dozens of shots and bullets cracked through the air. You screamed his name as your legs surged forward, instinct and horror hurling you forward towards him.

Ava was fast. Faster than anyone. She landed beside you and grabbed you again. Her arms anchoring you. Stopping you from running off. You struggled, thrashing. But she held you. Tightly wrapped around you, "no, no, no! Ava, let me—" you cried out to be let free to save the man.

Bob’s body jolting as bullets tore into him. Into his chest. Too many to count. The sound was deafening. The gunfire and gunshots sounding all around. Almost unreal. His knees buckled. His body twisted. He then fell. His rifle dropping beside him. Your scream ripped through your chest. Even though it hurt. You yelled as you were the one dying. Ava flinched as you convulsed against her grip, trashing around to be let free.

The troops did not ease their fire. Even if he fell. Not right away. Ava held you tighter. Ava’s arms wrapped around your waist and dragged you backward towards the truck where the doors were open. You didn’t resist anymore. Your body had gone slack, your muscles not working. Your mind was numb with the horror still flashing behind your eyes. Bob was gone.

She guided you up to the back of the truck and helped you collapse onto the hard metal seat inside. Right where Bob had been. His gear was dropped around on the floor. Your legs curled slightly as you stared blankly down at your hands in your lap. They were trembling, fingers twitching faintly like the body was still trying to praying that the nervous man was atill somewhere there. Your chest rose and fell, your mind is blank. Like a blank page of a book.

Ava closed the doors of the truck and phased back into the front where Yelena dand John were. The truck was moving again. But you barely felt it. Your body rocked with the motion, but your mind was still frozen in front of the vault, the sight of Bob falling. His smile gone.

You sit in the back, right where Bob sat. The car moving, now further from the vault. From the front of the truck, muffled through the armored wall, you heard John’s voice, low and stunned. It was almost disbelieving, "is that...?"

You didn’t even wait to hear the rest. You turned, your palms smacking hard against the metal divider between the back and the front where the others were, "what is going on?" you barked loudly.

There was shuffling. Then Ava’s voice, loud enough to cut through the engine and through the thick metal wall, "stay calm.... But we think Bob is alive!”

Your heart launched itself against your ribs. You stood still. You just saw him die, get shot, fall on the ground.

"No, no, no, no..." you heard Yelena muttering at something. You were staring to grow nervous and angry. You couldn't see a thing in the back of the truck. You need to see Bob. Alive.

"What the fuck is going on? Guys!" you yelled out at the metal wall, where behind it were the three other people.

"Bob is falling from the sky!" Ava yelled back to you and you were close to thinking you were becoming insane. You processed it for a moment and then yelled back, "from the sky?"

"He—He just flew up and he is falling back down! Really fast!" Ava explained, her voice booming and strained with disbelief. Definitely seeing Bob fall from up in the skies, through the clouds.

You didn’t have time to process what that meant. The ground, miles away from where you were parked, suddenly thundered. It was a huge impact. As if the earth's core had been blown up. You heard the loud sound. And then suddenly, the impact came crawling to the trucka s well. You felt the tires lift from the ground. The truck lurched sharply to the side. Then the ground vanished from beneath its tires entirely. You heard someone shout from the front. Most likely John. Then his shout was replaced with a metallic noise like a scream. The truck suddenly leaned so far to the side. The truck pitched off the road and the world flipped upside down.

You slammed into the right wall. The truck was falling off the cliff that the road was perched on top. You tried to grab on the seat or anything to stabilize yourself before hitting another wall. Your fingers scraped over Bob's armor and gear that he had left behind, his helmet just grazing your fingertips. You crashed against another wall when the truck rolled once again over. Pain flashing in your whole body. The truck flipped. Again. You barely had time to yell before your hip collided with the floor again.

"What the fuck is going on?" you screamed, the sound nearly drowned out by the roar of tumbling metal of the truck against the stony gravel of the outside.

Then the truck finally hit something solid. And you did too. Your head hit the metal seat and you yelled out in pain. The world then stopped spinning. Everything went still. Apart from your breathing. Ragged breaths leaving through your open mouth.

You were slumped awkwardly against the wall of the truck, your head just beside the metal seat where you and Bob were sitting mere moments before. Your head was spinning. But your mind was straight. Bob just hit the ground like a meteor.

You sat slumped on the floor of the truck against the wall of the truck. Then you heard it, gravel shifting outside. Footsteps, boots moving around the truck, coming right towards its back.

Then the doors creaked and were wretched open. And there stood John Walker. He was scraped up, his shield strapped to his back. He squinted down at you, and then his mouth twisted into a crooked smirk, "not a fan of roller coasters, huh?"

You blinked up at him with a stare. Your head was hurting from where you had taken the hit of the metal seat. And you were sitting on the floor with your legs in front of you like a hurt child. John let out a short chuckle and jumped up into the truck bed with a thud. Then he moved towards you. John came to crouch in front of you, reaching out a his hand to you.

You grunted and you held up your hand. Your fingers wrapped around his and he pulled you up in one clean motion. You stumbled a bit when you finally got onto your feet, your head nearly hitting the ceiling of the metal truck.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice lower now. More calm, not like the usually cocky one. It was different. You rolled your shoulders back, gave him a look of amusement and muttered quietly, "fucking awesome..."

He hopped down from the truck with practiced ease, boots hitting gravel ground and sending dust flying around his knees. You followed a moment after him, landing with a soft grunt when your feet hit the ground.

You noticed that Yelena was already halfway through shedding down the borrowed, or more likely to be called stolen, gear. The dark tactical vest that the troops in the vault had dropped on the ground, already bit dirty. She glanced over at the sound of your boots coming closer.

"Oh, you’re alive,” she said casually, taking off the tactical black pants, "I heard you in the back. Sounded like you were dying," she said in her thicker Russian accent. The girl gave you a tight smirk, then reached down to unclip her jacket and show her own suit underneath it.

"Great,” you muttered, craning your neck up. Staring at the dark sky above. You let out a long breath and stared up towards the clouds, your hands coming to rest on your hips. You thought about the nervous boy, Bob. How he somehow got up in above those clouds that you were seeing. How he flew himself up in the skies. And then fell back down. John, who was standing just beside you, started tearing off the stolen black armor as well. Piece by piece it clattered to the ground, revealing his real suit underneath. He grunted as he kicked off the pants and threw them back into the opened back of the truck. Your thoughts broke as Ava suddenly walked around you and nudged your bent arms with her elbow, "change as well,” she said, flicking a glance at your borrowed gear, "your own suit looks way more cool.”

"Cool, huh?" you murmured back.

Ava had already turned away, her gaze scanning the surroundings around herself. But you weren’t watching her. Nor the surroundings around you. You were in a moment looking down, your fingers brushing absently over the stolen technical vest of the armor you were still wearing.

You could still hear Bob’s voice, that awkward, breathless laugh as he sat across from you in the back of the truck. The word cool leaving his mouth in the most awkward manner you have ever seen or heard. The certain way he had stumbled over his own words when he got flustered over his own speech. The way his hands had trembled slightly when they cupped your cheeks. You were going to be sick just thinking about him. And then, the way those same hands had shoved you hard. Away from him. The strength he suddenly gained. Like it wasn't even him in that moment. The strength he suddenly showed out, pushing you away into the opposite side of the truck in a matter of a second and a force. It was insane to you.

You exhaled slowly through your nose and started to tear off the vest off you as well. Peeling off each layer of the stolen gear. Underneath it all was your own dark grey tactical suit. You stood there for a second in your own suit again, trying to remember how to feel strong in it. You should have been the one to jump in front of all the troops, to let them kill you.

Not him.

John was tossing the last of the borrowed armor off into the back of the truck. You teared off the tactical pants and you were finally back in your own skin. You threw the stolen gear back into the truck and followed right behind the shielded man, who was following the other two women.

"Jesus Christ," he muttured under his breath when he finally caught up to the other two women.

"Oh no... What was that?" Ava asked, still in disbelief about what had just happened with the other stranger that you had met. She turned around and looked at John and you. Her gaze lingered on you for a while, as if she was quetly observing your current state. Then she turned back without asking anything particular to you.

"That was her. She did that to him," Yelena turned her head to the side, answering Ava's question. Boots crunching over the gravelly ground under the dark sky.

"She turned him into a Tomahawk cruise missile," the man with the shield muttured again. Trying to lighten up the mood or whatever. John glanced over to you as he said that, but your eyes were unfocused. Not really being in the conversation. Righht state to have this conversation. You have met them all just a few hours before. And as well the hospital-clothed man. And you already care too deeply for him. And now he's gone. Maybe dead.

"You were right. She definitely wants us dead," John added as he lightly jumped off a small step of dirt. Following the two women in front of him. You suddenly noticed papers clutched in the blonde woman's hands.

"Testing on someone like that... it's inhumane," Yelena said, disgusted.

"Yeah. She's lost it," John said and Yelena suddenly stopped and turned backwards. Facing you, John and Ava who were standing just behind her.

"Nope! She's found it," she gave her hand towards Ava, the papers you eyed in her hands. You watched the dark-haired woman flip through the papers, her eyes scanning each sheet with furrowed brows. Yelena then pointed at the papers that the woman was holding, "and she's going to use it."

"What is this?" Ava turned the papers around, flipping through them with confusion. You stepped closer to her, observing her and the papers in her hands. Ava started to read out loud the words, "Power of thousand exploding suns... Golden guardian of good... That's a mouthful."

John stepped closer as Ava gave him half of the papers in her hands. You were quick to step closer to the man and he leaned his hands closer to you so you could see the papers as well. He eyed it and then muttered, "oh wow... Sentry. Very shiny..."

"What do you know about this?" you flickered your eyes over the papers and asked John about it.

"Eh, there was a rumour that O.X.E is on a verge of a some kind of a big breakthrough. Whatever it was, it was extreme. Test subjects were dying... Government went into it and Val shut it down. She put me to clean it," he explained and passed the papers to you. There was a symbol on one of them, with a sign of the letter S in the middle with golden or yellow colour. The next one was a picture, or a drawing, of the the hero they were talking about. He was flying, one leg stretched while the other one was bent, a comics book pose. There was a dark blue cape draped over the back of the suit. The suit itself was yellow, nearly shining golden. A belt around the guardian's waist, as well dark blue as the cape is. The symbol in the middle of the belt. It looked like straight out of a comic book. They were expecting Bob to be this guardian. The boy you had met. Your throat tightened at the sight. Your grip tightened around the papers edge.

"Let's just get home without getting crated..." Ava said under her beeath, folding the papers in her hands.

John suddenly moved away from you, coming towards a small bush plant covered with small spikes in the ground. He knelt beside it and turned towards the three of you, "anybody hungry?"

You stared down at him, the papers folded in your hands. Yelena and Ava as well turned towards the man with the shield. Yelena tilted her head in confusion. John then added, "cactusberry."

You raised an eyebrow, folding the papers and slipping them into one of your pockets in your tactical vest, “I just found out that a man who was being a test subject fell from the sky, then exploded like a missile and was supposed to be... What was it again? Golden guardian of gods? And now I’m being offered some desert fruit..." you commented but came closer to him, wanting to taste the fruit.

"Golden guardian of good," Ava corrected you with a soft chuckle, staring at the man who was cutting off a piece of cactusberry off.

"So... That woman back there, that I..." Ava then turned towards the blonde Russian woman, "you knew her?"

Yelena's face fell a little, but she nodded, her voice clear, "yeah. I did. She had a tough life. She killed a lot of people and then she got killed."

The image of the woman's mask came back. Skull-like mask. You remembered it. You remembered that certain masked stare. But not from today. From Budapest. You’d met once and even then she hadn’t said a word until today. Just locked eyes with you through that mask, when the shield got stuck in the pillar just behind you in the underground subway station. When the blonde woman, that you now know as Yelena and a red-headed woman that had ran off away from her as well.

"That's a shit life," Ava commented with a frown.

"Oh, well, what other life can we have, huh?" John replied to her, finally standing up next to you. Cut pieces of cactusberry in his hand. He firstly turned towards you and you stretched out your palm, waiting for the piece of the desert fruit to be offered to you. He dropped the piece into your waiting gloved palm and gave you a small smile when you quickly bit into the desert fruit. Then he moved towards the other two women.

"Ah, says the guy who's got a Norman Rockwell family waiting for him at home," Ava shifted her stance when John came closer, she also offered her hand to him when he grabbed another piece of the cactusberry. He gave one to the dark-haired woman and then he gave one to Yelena as well. Those words that came out of Ava's mouth made John stop for a brief moment, a pause. Thinking of his words, as if he wasn't sure about something. Then he stepped away and muttered quietly, "oh, yes..."

"How do you do it?" Ava asked before she took a bite of the fruit she had recieved from the shielded man.

"Just keep working everyday..." he quietly said, cutting a piece of the fruit with his pocket knife. The strange fruit was mild, but sweet. Juicy and soft, it was dripping a bit when you bit into the cut piece. They tasted a quite syrupy sweet. It dripped a bit color onto your gloved palm. John then raised his head and added, "never give up..."

"Beautiful," Yelena commented on his advice. Then something clicked in her brain and she raised her hand at him, pointing at him while she turned, walking slowly away, "Doctor Phil, that was really beautiful!"

Ava smirked at her, amused. John looked with pzuzled face at her, you did as well. You don't know what she meant by that. You started to move as well, following the two women, Ava and Yelena. John then chuckled from beside you, "you know that show's not on anymore."

"It is! I watch it," Yelena was quick to defend the show, walking deeper into the darkness of the desert, the three of you following her.

"Nah, it got cancelled a few years ago. It was a good show when it was on. It's not anymore. But it's on YouTube, I think..." John started to explain it to Yelena, following closely behind you. Kicking a stone off his pahh the as he walked.

"Who is Doctor Phil?" you asked after a moment as you jumped over a fallen branch, brushing dust over your knees as you landed back onto the gravel ground.

"You don't know Doctor Phil?" John sounded from behind you, disbelief in his voice. You shrugged, tilting your head to the side to look at him over your shoulder, "should I?"

He blinked at you with a smile, "you're joking," he said to you and jumped over the same branch that you had just jumped over. You raised a brow and shook your head, "I don’t really watch TV..."

John looked at you amusingly, "at all? You had to seen it at least once."

You chuckled at him and tilted your head bakc in front of you, staring at the backs of the two women in front of you, "not really... I mean, I had a TV in my old apartment. I think..."

"You think?" John let out a short laugh at your words, which made Ava turn her head back and look at you two with a curious gaze. John then turned to you and asked, "you don't know if you had a TV in your apartment?"

"I wasn't usually in my apartment. I moved—like a lot. Novi Grad, Bratislava, Budapest... Then here in the states. I feel like I was everywhere, but not home. Then I started to work for Valentina and I started to have no time for being home. Especially time for watching TV," you looked over to the shielded man again with a crooked small smile.

"Novi Grad? Jesus, I haven't heard about that for years," John raised his brows and let out a puff of a breath. His pronounciation slightly off with his American accent at the name of the city, "I actually forgot that Sokovia existed for a good while."

Ava then turned around, now looking at you with her own eyebrows raised, "wait. You're really from Sokovia?"

You slowed slightly at her question, but continued moving. You met her gaze and gave a small nod, "yeah. I really am from Sokovia. I was born there."

"You don't really have an accent," Ava commented on you and turned back forward to not trip over anything on her path in front of her.

"I lost most of it. Learned other languages and got other accents..." you said with a huffed out breath, "but I still know the language. Can't forget a mother tongue."

"How do you say... fuck you in Sokovian?" the shielded man suddenly quipped into the conversation. Asking you to translate his words like a teenage boy. Grinning.

"Jebjať tebe," you chuckled and told the man the right translation for his small sentence.

"Jaybait tebe, Twenty-Two!" sounded loudly from beside you from John, in very proud manner and cocky voice.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around, squinting at the man, "what the fuck is jaybait?"

“That’s what you just said!” he snapped back at you with an offended look. Ava, who was right in front of you, choked on a laugh and tilted her head back at you and the shielded man.

“No, I didn’t,” you said with a half-smile, rubbing your face with your gloved hand, "I said jebjať tebe. What you just said sounds completely different."

"You've got terrible pronounciation, Walker," said Yelena who was at the complete front of your little group.

“Well, sorry! I was not born or raised in Sokovia, okay?” he defended, gesturing with both hands and groaning loudly, "I was raised in America."

"Jaybait tebe to all of you!" Ava joked which earned a loud groan of annoyance from John and chuckles from you and the blonde woman in the front.

The night stretched on. For hours, the never ending desert and the three other strangers that you came to know were your only companion. You, Yelena, Ava, and John walked side by side or in drifting pairs, voices weaving through the Utah desert's air. The conversations were endless. Shifting from personal, serious topics to absolute ridiculous stories. You listened mostly. Spoke when it mattered, when you had to actually say something. Join the fun. Join the sob-storyline. Join an interesting combination of topics in a conversation. And sometimes, you just stared up at the stars, letting their cold dark blue night fill the gaps inside you that no one else could see or feel. There were also moments of quietness. Not because there was nothing to say or because that you have argued about something, but only because that silence felt just as honest and comforting as the talking did. As the blackness and blueness of the sky softened to pale blue and the stars slowly dimmed, shifting under its own shadow. The desert’s cold retreated, and warmth crept over the horizon. Just like when you arrived to the vault yesterday, sun rose up high into the sky. By the early morning, you were exhausted. All of you. Your bodies sore from the walking and your feet aching. The desert stretched out in every single direction that you looked over. Nearly endless, same looking everywhere you looked.

The ground was crunching beneath your footsteps. All the yellowed, scorched grass rustling in small gusts of hot wind flying around. All four of you were in a line now, none of you first or last. Ava was next to you on your left and John was on your left. Yelena was walking to her Ava's right, looking down at her feet as she was walking over the dry ground.

"High... Those birds are way too high," commented breathlessly John as he looked up at the helicopters flying somewhere above the four of you.

"Your recon's loose at four thousand feet. They don't know what they're doing..." John added breathlessly. You glanced to your right at him with one eyebrow raised with squinted look. You hummed and looked back in front of you. Then hebreathed our a hot breath and added without missinf any beat, "that's how you'll be five or ten clicks away in no time."

"Okay, we get it. You're in the military," Ava who is on your left cut into John's words, annoyance lacing her tone and words. Then she started to jokinly repeat his words in a forced professional-like voice, "five or ten clicks—"

Her words were quickly, faster than a light, cut by a weird sounds coming from Yelena. To quiet down hee talking. Yelena stuck her hand out to stop you and the two others. You stopped with a huffed out breath, blinking ahead at the distance in front of you. You zooned out for a moment, your eyes looking forward but your mind stuck. You blinked few times before your arm was quickly caught by Ava who was pulling you down onto the dry ground. You hit the ground with a loud hurt noise and were quickly quieten down by Ava's quick whisper-yelled remark, "shhh! Be quiet."

"There!" Yelena's eyes found what she was apparently hearing. Something far in the distance, travelling fast and right towards where you all were.

"Yeah. That's a... What is it?" John muttured from his laying position next to you, squinting at the moving item in the distance.

"Is that a fucking limousine?" your jaw dropped when you finally caught the outline of the thing that was coming nearer to all of you. It was honking loudly. Like really loudly. Nonstop as well. It kept honking. Just hitting the honk-button every second. Horn blaring loudly at the empty desert. Its loud repeating sound reaching all of you and your ears.

"Oh no..." you heard Yelena speak, her voice dropping, embarrassment in her voice. John squinted at the nearing limousine again, "it's coming right at us..."

"Who is that?" Ava asked, squinting into the distance at the nearing honking vehicle. Yelena started to hide herslef behind her hands, she quickly responded, "it's noone. It's nothing!"

The limousine was closer now. It was just down the hill from where you were supposedly hiding, laying on the dry ground between the short yellowing grass. It suddenly stopped, it's tires scratching as it stopped. The driver's doors then opened, someone was leaving the driver's seat. Yelena was quick to turn her head away, shielding her face by her hand, "oh my god..."

"Who is—" you were about to ask about the mysterious driver when you were cut off by a very loud yell from a man.

"Yelena! It's your dad! Don't go in the vault! Valentina's gonna burn you alive!" the driver who had exited the limousine was frantically and madly waving with both of his arms above his head in front of his limousine, yelling at the blonde woman who was laying right next to Ava. You and the two other laying people turned your heads at Yelena in confusion at this scene in front of you. Then the man yelled once more, "Yelena!"

"Yelena, why is there a man in a Santa Claus suit yelling at you?" you choose to ask the woman, turning your head at the man once more and then back at the blonde woman who was awkwardly staring at the driver in red as well.

"It's... Um... My dad," she whispered out awkwardly and looking at her hands in front of her face. She looked very embarrassed at this whole stunt happening in front of her.

The man was starting to weirdly run towards where you four were laying. Ava was the first one to sit up, staring at the nearing man. Then the blonde sat up as well and so did you and the man with the shield. The man in the red was running up the dry desert hill with a force, he nearly fell over few times as he kicked into a stone somewhere hiding in the yellowing grass.

You were sitting on your knees, your boots scrunched underneath your butt. Your eyes flickered from the nearing man back to Yelena and then back to the nearing man in red looking hero suit. A mask on his head, a long bushy, bit unkept, beard peeking out from underneath the buckle of the helmet.

"Yelena, Yelena—My, my, my! Oh, do not go into the vault! Valentina is a mad, mad woman!" the man finally got to where you four were sitting on the ground, he was very breathless and he was elaning forward, standing right above the blonde woman.

"Yes, we know. We've already been to the vault, Alexei," she told the man calmly, staring up at the man with her head tilted up.

"You were in the vault? You are alive! I'm so happy—" he exclaimed loudly, clasping his hands together at the new information his daughter gave him.

"Come, come. You all! Into my car before Valentina tries to kill you all again!" he stood back onto his height, his voice was deep and a strong Russian accent was lacing his words when he spoke. He quickly moved forward and wrapped his bigger hand around Yelena's forearm and actually lifted her up onto her feet with no hesitation. She stumbled over her feet but stood her ground. The man did not turn towards you other and kept ushering her daughter about something. You sat up better and stood up, your boots slipping slightly over the small rocks underneath your feet. Ava was next to stand up, then the man with the shield next to you stood up as well, brushing his hands over his knees to get dust and dirt off himself.

The man in red kept a firm hand on Yelena's shoulder and pushed her towards his stopped car. You chuckled at the sight and followed the two towards the car. John and Ava right behind you.

"I am so confused," said Ava as she walked behind you. Looking at the two people in front of her. The man in red was opening the passenger door for the blonde woman and pushed her in the aecond the doors were wide enough. Then he literally ran around the front of his limousine and swung his own driver's door open and sat down into the seat. You turned your head at her and let out a small quiet laugh, "me too."

"He won't murder us in that limousine, right?" said John as his steps came right beside you, staring at the red limousine stopped in front of him, where the other two people were already sitting in the front.

"I hope not," you looked up at the man, grinning. He chuckled and opened a door at the back of the limousine, he stepped aside and stretched his hand towards you and Ava to let you teo go first with a gentleman-like gesture. Ava made a gagging noise but stepped inside and you followed her right behind. You sat down beside Ava on her right, John sat on the seat facing the drive, right at the back. He looked a bit of uncomfortable as his suit was digging up his neck at this sitting position. Somewhere in the corner opposite you were some items on the floor, food and drinks and wrappers. You grimaced at the sight.

"We good! We are ready to get away from the mad woman Valentina!" sounded from the front as the man in the red stepped onto the gas and the car started to move forward. With a very weird and loud noise, which did not sound any flattering. John looked onto his left towards where you were sitting next to Ava and made a small noise to take your attention on him. You turned your head at him and raised your brows. The man leaned slightly forward and whispered, "he is going to murder us."

"I won't really mind," you whispered back and grinned at the man. He rolled his eyes and sat back up into the seat. Ava next to you kicked her legs in front of her, stretching the ache away to make herself more comfortable on the seat.

"Yelena, why did you go in the vault? You could've died!" the man behind the steering wheel turned towards his daughter in the passanger seat. The turn made the car jerk into the side and Ava groaned as she slid on the leathered car seat, inching forward off it a small bit.

"I did not know she sent us to the vault to get us burned alive!" Yelena said to her father.

"Ehh... Valentina, that woman! I hate her!" said the blonde woman's father, fristration lacing in his voice.

"You wanted a job just—"

"I hate her!" he barked in when Yelena started to mention that he wanted a job from the woman a few days earlier. He pounded his leather covered fist against the steering wheel, which made the car honk again.

"She is a snake! She is a mad snake! A snake who sent you to be burned alive in a vault!" he threw his other hand into the air, shooting his words at his daughter in the passanger seat.

You leaned your head back against the seat, exhaling through your nose. You stretched your legs in front of you, the tip of your boot touching a weirdly shapes blue object on the floor, you grimaced at the sight and kicked it away from you.

"She is, but you could've—" Yelena started to say but was, once again, quickly cut off by the loud booming voice of the Russian in the driver's seat.

"She is... How do you say it? Hoplophile? No, fuck, different! Psychopath! She is a psychopath! She tried to burn you alive in that vault! She is mad! Insane!" The driver was yelling now to his daughter while the three of you in the back were listening into their conversation.

"What the fuck did he just say?" you breathed out with wide eyes and turned your head at Ava and John, "did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" John asked, staring at you confused.

You blinked few times at him and started to gesture at the driver, "what he just called Valentina! What did—"

"I was pretending I did not hear it. You should've tried that as well," Ava muttured quietly beside you, which made you turn your head at her, "so you did hear it! He followed it up right with no, fuck, different. That means he knows it was wrong! Why does he know anything about—"

"He really did say it. We should pretend we did not hear it," she blinked and stared at you. You started to nod, many few times, sitting back into the seat, kicking your legs forward again.

"What did he say though?" John leaned forward from where he was sitting. He was really confused. Curious about what the driver had actually said. You and Ava both turned your heads at him, she let out a laugh and looked down, shaking her head and letting her hairs fall down in front of her face. You stared at him and closed your eyes with a long breath, "I'm not repeating that word."

"Neither am I. We have already left this conversation," she calmly said and nudged her elbow into your arm. You chuckled underneath your breath and turned back forward.

You’d been crammed in the absurdity of a limousine for at least half an hour now. The ride itself had somehow started to feel both too long and not long enough to process everything what had happened and what is still happening. The air inside the vehcike was heavy and hot. It was pretty warm inside. Your shoulder stopped hurting after a good time, the pain tolerable if there was any. Every now and then, the tires would bumped over a rock or dip in the road you were on, jolting you against the seat or flrward. Nearly sliding off it. The driver was very talkative person. He and Yelena had been arguing on, or maybe talking, you coudln't really tell if it was arguing, for most of the ride. Yelena had told him about what had happened in the vault, then inside of the vault and how she had met a man named Bob in the vault. How he flew up and then hit the ground. You left your head pressed against the glass window of the limousine behind you, sometimes stretching your legs if they started to be uncomfortable or sore from the sitting.

"Alexei," sounded from Yelena at the passanger seat. The driver grunted in response and turned his head to the side to look at his daughter ye r in the seat next to him, "how did you know where we were? Where the vault was?" the blonde woman asked her father.

"So, I've been able to pick up Miss Fontaine at this fancy event. I figured a good networking, but as soon as I overheard the coordninates of the vault, I rushed home to get this tactical beast! Then I drive straight here!" he patted the dashboard of the limousine and grinned with his teeth at the girl.

"Oh, America is so big!" he commented, checking the road again and then turning his head back at the girl next to him, "have you ever driven through Oklahoma? Ah... So flat."

"Oh! I forgot to tell you," the man in the driver seat turned around, staring at the three of you in the back, "do not drink from the Big Gulp back there!"

You looked down at the floor where he pointed at. There was a big cup of the drink thrown on the floor behind Yelena's passanger seat. It was staining the floor from the liquid dripping from the straw. You grimaced at the sight with disgust and turned back to look out of the window rather than the dirty, litter covered floor of the car that you were in.

"Alexei, have you slept?" asked the blonde woman, observing the man behind the steering wheel. The man did not turn away from the steering wheel nor the road, "I will sleep when I'm dead!"

"Well. I'd like not to die today. So, maybe someone else should be driving?" said defensively John from the backseat. Your eyes flickered at John who was making a face. That got attention of the driver as well, he looked into the mirror, his eyes catching John's in the backseat, he grinned up at the man in the back.

"Ah... Mr. Walker. Second coming of Captain America. You and I have a lot of in common, you know?" Alexei declared from the driver seat proudly, grinning from under his bushy beard, "I too was a state-sponsored super soldier! But in Russia."

"But also very different, because Walker actually knows what he's doing!" Yelena was quick to jump into her father's words. The man behind the wheel leaned closer to her, as if he was not hearing her properly. You looked sideways at John, whose lips are together, making a face and looking impressed at Yelena's words.

"And Ghost! What a magician you are..." The driver fixated his attention on the other person in the backseat, the woman on your left, "you disappear, you reappear. When you reappear, does sometimes things not pop up in right place?"

Ava made a disgusted face at his words, you leanes forward to look at him through the mirror above the dashboard with also a disgusted expression on your face.

"Oh! Oh, no! I find it best to just ignore him sometimes!" Yelena quickly said from her place in the passanger seat.

"And... Wait, who are you? The third in the back," he leaned over his seat to take a good look at you and squinted on you over his shoulder, "you a what? Black widow? Some kind of a superhero?"

You leaned back into your seat, hiding sligthly behind Ava, "no," you said flatly “I’m not a Black Widow.”

Alexei made a thoughtful hum, clearly not satisfied with your response, "but you wear the suit! Very cool, but not cool enough for a superhero. You carry the weapons! Who are you?" you exchanged a brief glance with Ava next to you and heard a small quiet snicker from John on the seat on your right.

"I just worked for Valentina. That's all," you muttured to the driver whose gaze was still on you, but now through the rearview, his eyes narrowed on his face.

"You have the face of someone who’s killed many people, but still feels a little sad about it! Brighten up a little!" he tilted his head to the side to look at you better in the rearview mirror and grinned with his teeth out at you through the reflection.

“That’s—wow, okay...." you blinked at the man, genuinely surprised by the choice of his words. He was unfazedly grinning at you, not caring about what he had just said. He did not seem to register that it was definitely not the right choice of words.

"Alexei!" Yelena yelled out at her father, shaking her head at him. Embarrassed by him and his words. Sighing under her breath, sliding lower on the leather seat in the front. Hiding in embarrassment.

"What impressive friends you have set!" he boomed loudly, now grinning at the girl in passenger seat.

"We are not friends, Alexei," Yelena quickly dismissed the man in the driver seat. Her tone defensive.

"Nah, just disposable delinquents..." Ava chimed in to defend that you all are not actually friends.

"Whatever you are, the light inside you is brighter, Yelena," the father turned towards his daughter. The blonde woman turned in her seat, staring outside the window with her head resting on her closed fist. The man in the red chimed in again, "how about this? You are a team... of scrappy anti-heroes!"

"Oh, yeah... Go, Thunderbolts!" John added boringly in the backseat, which made Yelena do a face in the front. You chuckled at the mention of the girl's childhood soccer team that she had told you about in the vault.

"Oh—What? Yelena?" the man behind the wheel turned to the side, staring at his daughter, stopped in his tracks, surprised by the fact that the man with shield in the back knows about her small soccer team from childhood days, "you named them after your pee-wee soccer club?"

You heard Yelena mutter under her beeath, turning her head away, "oh my god..." she was quick to turn away from her father, shielding her face with her hand, staring right out of the car window on her right.

"The West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Dimitri's Elite Industrial Lightings and Electronics!" he loudly announced the soccer team's name, now a different sponsor name than Yelena had mentioned in the vault, "never won a game! But... But there was a girl that pooped in middle of the game! It was crazy! I was yelling at the referee—"

"No. No! It was sponsored by Shane's tire shop," Yelena turned in her seat, pointing with her finger at her dad. The man in the front scowled and shook his head, "Shane? What are you talking? Shane... He didn't have that kind of money—"

"It was!" Yelena defended her words. The man shook his head again, thinking of the man that was supposedly a sponsor in his daughter's childhood soccer team, "no! Shane... He did not."

"You really need to sleep," the blonde woman furrowed her eyebrows at the man in the red suit next to her.

"What about—What about this Bob that you had mentioned? What's the plan? Where am I driving?" the man boomed angeily, maybe not angrily, his voice was laced with a thick Russian accent that you couldn't really tell if he was talking normally or just exaggerating his acting and talking.

"It's not like that. We need to escape and we need to hide," the blonde woman shook her head and explained the situation to him.

"Yeah. Way smarter for us to split up. There was actually an airfield not far from here," John commented from the backseat, leaning slightly forward, "we can just disappear from there."

The man in the front did not like his idea, he dropped his arm onto the window panel and groaned in disappointment, "split up? No, no, no! You may not see what I see, but I've been around for a long time!"

"Yeah, shit..." muttered John with his eyebrows up. You let out a small chuckle and kicked him into his shins to not let him make another remark at the poor sleep deprived man behind the steering wheel, "shut up!"

"This is makings of a team! That can raise to glory!" the man in the front pounted a fist into the air, his voice rising up, "a team that can bring a light to the darkness!"

Yelena rolled her head to the side to look at the man. But he continued to speak his idea of a team that you all can be, "a team of heroes that can be on the Wheaties box!" he mentioned the very recognizable and famous orange boxed breakfast cereal brand, "and have little kiddie toys—"

"No, no, no! This is not a marketing opportunity! Okay?" the girl in the front snapped to the side and raised her voice at the man next to her.

"I'd like to be on Wheaties box," you murmured very quietly under your breath, which Ava did only hear. She chuckled at your words.

"Valentina is hunting us and we cannot win!" she barked loudly, her hand shooting up in front of her, "do you understand that?"

The man just blinked ahead, so Yelena started to say he doesn't understand her, but he was quick to defend his silence, "I do! You don't! You said Valentina's gonna use the power of the Sentry project and take over and kill us all!" he repeated the woman's words from before. Glancing sideways at the blonde next to him. You let your gaze wander around the car, their argument falling deaf on your ears. Tuning them out. You then caught a movement on the side, John was shifting in his seat, turning around.

You turned your head as well, watching as he twisted around in his seat, he peered through the dusty rear window at the back of the limousine and squinted into the distance.

“What is it?” you asked the man.

He leaned closer to the window, squinting even more. You followed the line of his sight, there was a black outlines moving further in the distance on the road. Several big black geared trucks were moving very swiftly towards you. Military built ones.

John snapped back around, leaning himself back into the leather seat of the limousine, "we got a convoy approaching fast! Step on it!”

"Ay! On it!" the driver growled and slapped the dashboard of the limousine, he then let his feet touch the pedal and slam it to the ground. The car shifted, but the vehcile went the same speed. Not much changing its position. It was rattling weirdly, the motor making weird sounds.

"Is that it?" you asked from the backseat as you saw the speed of the limousine. You pulled out your gun from your holster, ready to do whatever it takes to get those maniacal military trucks away.

Yelena in the front as well saw the speed and did not appreciate it, "a little bit faster?"

The man slapped the dashboard again and then the steering wheel, the limousine did not raise its speed. Continued on a little stroll of its. The limousine enjoying the surroundings around like a tourist and a light breeze of the desert around itself. The man in the front slammed the gas again, "just a sec..." the car did not move any faster though. Yelena yelled out the man's name again. John was staring behind him at the approaching vehicles.

"Alexei!" John yelled out as he turned back. Suddenly, the vehicle behind them started to shoot at the limousine. The man in the front raised his hands, "don't worry! She is bulletproof! Changing defensive measures..." he opened a small shelf inside the dashboard and pulled out a row of switches. He switched one switch on and then—

The song Pony by Ginuwine started playing, loudly.

The lights turned on, colors filling the space. The panels above your head turned red and a smoke started to fill up the car. All of it looked like it was taken from a teenage boy's frat party at their frat-house.

"Oh my god..." Yelena slid down on her seat, her hands hiding her whole face, embarrassement flooding her whole soul. The man tried the switch again, it did not turn off the song. Yelena turned back to him, "who are you driving here?"

The first vehicle was starting to be closer and their shots were getting even closer to the limousine. You were hundred percent sure that the limousine was in fact not bulletproof. You turned around and yelled at John, "John! The shield!"

He was quick to understand your message and turned around, pushing the shield in front of the window which was quick to shatter when the first bullet hit it. It was indeed not bulletproof as the Russian man had promised. As the window broke and the glass went flying, the car jerked to the side thanks to Alexei's not so smooth driving.

"What happened to bulletproof?" John abruptly yelled out, hiding himself behind his shield. The man in the front yelled out back, "it's bullerproof-ish!"

Yelena hid herself down the seat, "oh my god!" she then yelled out.

You were quick to stand behind John with your gun pointed at the vehicles, but you were sure your gun won't stop or damage the armored vehicles, so you let the gun linger in your hands without shooting. The man in the front was yelling again, loud and unclear. The shots kept falling towards the limousine, hitting off the man's shield or off the ground. The limousine was not even bulletproof-ish.

"It is time to bring out the bottle service! Come on!" the man said through his gritted teeth in the front, slightly bent forward to not let any of the shots to get to him, "come on, Ghost! Give me the good stuff!" he lifted his hand behind himself towards Ava in the back, waiting for a drink to be passed into his hand.

"I don't think it's very appropriate!" Ava yelled back as she stared at the drink in the cupholder at the back.

"Vodka! Vodka! Now!" he yelled back and then Ava sighed and passed him the bottle of the already opened Vodka.

The man was quick to rip out the cork from the opening and dip the bottle down, drinking the alcohol out of the bottle. Then he got a small piece of cloth from somewhere and ripped out a lighter from the dashboard. The vodka was flammable, so he was going to make a Molotov. He lit up the end of the bottle and fire appeared at the end of it, he then threw the bottle back to where the military vehicles were. The Molotov was flying straight towards them.

It fell right on top of the car, in front of their front mirror. Flames adoring the front of the vehicle. Alexei in the front was cheering happily and excitedly from the front, John pushed his shield down to look at the flamed up vehicle and so did you and the dark-haired woman. The flame was quick to disappear from the vehicle and so was the smile of excitement from Alexei's face. The vehicle continued shooting at you and the limousine.

"Alright, I'll be back!" Ava breathed out and her familiar white mask appeared back on her face.

She moved to where John was and phased through the car onto the top of the back of the car. Standing on the trunk. The vehicles were too armored and geared up. A loud high-pitched voice, same as the one from the vault, had sounded out. That made Ava fall against the truck, clutching her hands over her ears in pain. You were quick to take a notice.

You moved from behind the shielded man and grabbed Ava by her suit, pulling her through the broken window back into the limousine. She was still cluthing her hands over her ears in absolute pain. Ava was back inside the limousine and John was quick to push you behind him, shielding the three of you. Ava quickly got rid off her mask and groaned, her hands once again hiding her ears.

You got an idea.

You quickly shoved your gun back into the holster strapped to your thigh and unzipped the side pocket of your tactical vest. Your fingers wrapped around the familiar weird shaped metal of the circular devices tucked inside. You called them sticky bombs. They were small but very helpful. Once they are met with open air and latched onto a surface after a good fly through, they're quick to detonate themselves. You only need to throw them and they latch, or rather stick, onto the surface.

You pulled two free from the pocket. You ducked low through the shattered window opening, your boots hitting the battered metal of the truck. Wind was whipping all around you. You steadied yourself on your knees, aimed toward the nearing vehicles. Then you threw the small two sticky bombs.

The sticky bombs whirled through the air just like they should. They slapped onto the enemy vehicle’s side, right near the tires. Perfect placement. Those will get the vehcike out of the way straight away. You ducked back, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, waiting for the explosion to come through.

And then darkness slammed into you.

A sharp, absolutely paralyzing pain tore through your back and chest all at once. Through your wntire body. You gasped out, but nothing came out, because you were already gone. Your body collapsing against the truck’s metal truck.

You were completely swallowed by a dark shadow, your body slumping forward.

You have died once again.

hope you liked this! if yes, comments and feedback are very appreciated! <3

also—hoplophile is someone who is attracted to guns / weapons. i am not interpreting that alexei is a one! i just wanted to find an awkward, funny conversation to have when you're stuck in a back of a limousine with some random old russian dude by the wheel! this man has unlimited internet access. he is unhinged, i'm telling you that!

TAGLIST: @qardasngan , @one17 , @ren-ni , @werewolfgirl1995 , @mysticdelusionengineer , @lauryn2theelectricboogaloo , @mewmew222 , @badbishsblog , @lovely-foxes-exe , @funkyfable , @melvin333 ,

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andy-15-07 · 1 day ago

Note

Hi lovely person! Could I request an angst to fluff piece with Joel miller? So I was thinking.. we always see Dbf! Joel smut, but I would really like something angsty with that trope. Maybe something along the lines of the reader and Joel being together in secret because you know being scared of judgment because of the age gap and stuff and not the father finding out. But then there's this woman, more to Joel's age coming into the picture, making reader insecure thinking she's not enough and too young and naive but in the end all turns out good? I'm a sucker for angst

Too Young for You

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1035| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You knew it the second she walked in.

Tall. Confident. Laugh like expensive red wine. And she touched Joel's arm when she greeted him,long fingers resting a second too long on his flannel sleeve like they had history. Like she knew him better than you ever could.

You stood on the edge of the backyard, the sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the patio. Your dad's cookout was in full swing, laughter and music tangling in the summer air. Joel had shown up late, just like always, a six-pack in hand and that lazy, unreadable smile you hated and loved.

He hadn't kissed you. Couldn't. Not with your dad just twenty feet away flipping burgers.

But the second his eyes had found yours, you’d felt that invisible pull. Like gravity had changed its rules just for the two of you. And then she showed up.

"Hey stranger," she said, her voice all southern charm and knowing smirks. "Didn’t think I’d see you around here again."

Joel chuckled, and your stomach turned.

You looked away, grabbing a drink you didn’t want and pretending not to watch them. But every laugh, every glance, felt like a punch.

She was beautiful. Older. Confident. The kind of woman people listened to. The kind who wouldn't have to hide. Who wouldn’t be a secret.

You tried not to spiral, but it was too late. Your fingers clenched around the plastic cup, knuckles white.

---

Later, when Joel found you alone in your childhood bedroom, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"You alright?" he asked softly, closing the door behind him.

You didn’t look at him. "Fine."

He frowned. "Don’t sound fine."

Silence.

He took a few steps closer, those boots of his heavy on the carpet. "Darlin’, talk to me."

You stood suddenly. "Why are you even here, Joel?"

His brows furrowed. "What d’you mean?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I mean,why me? I’m just some dumb kid who can’t even be seen with you in public."

He stepped closer. "Hey. No. Don’t do that."

You shook your head, bitter. "She’s perfect for you, Joel. You two looked like you belonged. Like real adults. Not... this."

Joel's expression darkened. "You think I want her?"

"Why wouldn’t you? She’s not a secret."

"You’re not a goddamn secret to me."

You scoffed. "No? Then what are we doing, huh? Playing pretend until my dad finds out and punches you in the face?"

Joel’s jaw ticked. Then, slowly, he stepped forward until he was right in front of you. You didn’t back away.

"You think I give a shit what anyone thinks? I’ve been eatin’ dinner with your family for fifteen years, sweetheart. You think I started lookin’ at her when you were right in front of me, lookin’ like that, makin’ me feel like I’d die if I couldn’t touch you again?"

You blinked, breath caught in your chest.

"You think this is some game to me?" he rasped, voice low, dangerous. "You wanna know why I haven’t told your dad? ‘Cause I want to do this right. I want to keep you. Not just fuck around behind closed doors."

Your voice cracked. "Then prove it."

Joel’s eyes flared. And then his mouth was on yours.

---

He didn’t take his time. Not tonight. Not after watching you shrink into yourself all evening, thinking you weren’t enough. Thinking he wanted someone else.

Your back hit the wall, and his hands were under your thighs in a second, lifting you up like you weighed nothing.

"You think she could make me feel like this?" he growled against your skin. "You think I want polite and easy when I’ve got you,moaning for me in the dark, beggin’ for more?"

You whimpered, grinding down on the bulge in his jeans.

"Tell me to stop," he said, teeth grazing your jaw. "Tell me you don’t want this."

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

He carried you to the bed, laying you down with reverence, even in his anger. His hands roamed,rough, calloused, possessive. He kissed you like he was drowning.

Your clothes came off in pieces, scattered across the room. He paused when you were bare beneath him, fingers brushing your cheek.

"You’re mine," he said, voice thick. "I don’t want anyone else. Never did."

Then he was between your thighs.

He didn’t tease tonight. His mouth was hot, desperate. Tongue pressing flat against your clit, fingers curling deep inside you as your hips bucked against him.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with want. "Let me hear you."

You gasped, crying out his name, and he groaned like it hurt him.

When he finally thrust inside you, it was all teeth and sin. Joel gripped your hips tight, rocking into you with long, devastating strokes.

"You’re so fuckin’ perfect," he panted. "So fuckin’ tight. Always so good for me."

You clawed at his back, nails dragging down his shoulders. "Joel,please,don’t stop."

He pressed your knees to your chest, going deeper. The angle had you sobbing his name.

"You think she could ever take me like this?" he growled, eyes locked on yours. "No one else gets to see you like this. Just me."

Your orgasm hit hard, white-hot and shaking. Joel followed, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you with a low, broken groan.

He didn’t pull away.

Just held you, kissed you, whispered your name over and over like a prayer.

---

Later, when you were curled against him under the blankets, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest, Joel tilted your chin up.

"Next time someone flirts with me, you come stand next to me, alright? Let ‘em see who I’m leavin’ with."

You smiled, shy. "You mean that?"

Joel nodded. "I’m tired of hidin’. We’ll tell your dad. I don’t care what he says. I’m not losin’ you over fear."

Your heart swelled.

"You’re not too young," he said gently. "You’re exactly what I need. You keep me soft. Keep me sharp. You make me feel alive again."

You kissed him, slow and deep.

And this time, you weren’t afraid of who you were with him.

You were his.

And he was yours.

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erikawrites13 · 2 days ago

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"Smoke and Shadows in Barcelona"

English is not my first language. I have dyslexia. Let me know what you think about it, please."

Max Verstappen x Female Reader (Y/N) Post-2025 Spanish Grand Prix

The door to the suite slammed shut behind him with a force that made the floor tremble.

Max didn’t speak.

Y/N looked up from the couch, already in one of his hoodies, sleeves too long on her wrists. She saw the storm in his shoulders—the way his jaw clenched, the lines etched deep between his brows. There were no cameras here. No microphones. No sponsors.

Just her. And him. Broken open.

She stood slowly. “Max…”

He didn’t respond. He tore off his fireproofs like they were suffocating him, tossing them toward the wall, pacing in tight, angry circles. His chest rose and fell in hard bursts, his eyes wild.

“Fing stupid. Stupid, Max. You ruined it.”*

She stepped forward carefully, like approaching a wounded animal.

“I lost my head. I lost the race. And now I’m this close—” He pinched his fingers together— “to a race ban. Do you know how that feels? How it feels to hand the championship to someone who hasn’t fought like I have?”

“Hey,” she said gently, reaching for him. He pulled away.

“I don’t need comfort. I need—” He broke off, raking his hands through his hair.

“What do you need, Max?” Her voice was quiet. Steady. Challenging.

He stared at her, something sharp behind his eyes. “To forget.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. She nodded once, then stepped in again, this time closer. “Then let me help you.”

He didn’t move, but his breath hitched when her hands found his chest warm, grounding. She pressed her lips to his jaw, light as a whisper. He stayed still.

But when she kissed his mouth—soft, slow, and sure—he shattered.

His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her close with a desperation that tasted like blood and gasoline. Their lips clashed, messy and urgent, teeth scraping, breaths catching. There was no finesse. No choreography. Just the heat of his grief, the sting of shame, and her fingers pulling him back from the edge.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispered, even as she pulled his shirt over his head.

“Don’t,” he growled.

They stumbled toward the bed, clothes discarded in a trail of moments lost to need. He kissed her like it was a question he didn’t want answered. She answered anyway with her hands, her body, the way she pulled him into her like she could shoulder the pain for him.

The world fell away. No penalties. No cameras. No headlines.

Only skin on skin. Tongues and teeth. His mouth at her throat, her nails down his back. A rhythm that started rough and furious, then softened with each gasp, each whispered name.

“Max,” she said, voice wrecked, grounding him when he nearly lost himself.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered back, voice hoarse, lips brushing her temple.

They came undone together, a tangle of limbs and moans in the dim light, his forehead pressed to hers, the tension finally breaking like a dam.

After, they lay still, breathing heavy. Max traced lazy lines down her bare back, his eyes clearer now, but rimmed with something softer.

“I messed everything up,” he said quietly.

Y/N tilted her head to meet his gaze. “You made a mistake. You’re not made of gold, Max. You’re allowed to crack.”

“I don’t want to lose this,” he murmured. “Not the title. Not you.”

She kissed his chest, right over the thudding of his heart. “You haven’t lost either.”

And for the first time since the checkered flag, he let himself believe her.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 smut #f1 fluff #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max vertsappen fic

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solrburst · 3 days ago

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tommy's girl — joel x reader

summary: you’re tommy’s girl. but one night, when lines blur and secrets ignite, you find yourself on your knees for the man you should’ve never touched.

warnings: cheating, poor tommy, explicit smut (+18), unprotected sex, dirty talk

He shouldn't be here. You both knew it.

But that didn't stop Joel from slamming the door shut behind him, jaw clenched, eyes burning into you like you were the only goddamn thing in the world that made sense.

"Tommy's not home," you whispered, voice barely steady as you stood there, back against the kitchen counter.

Joel stepped forward, boots heavy against the floor. His eyes dropped to your lips, then lower. "Ain’t askin’ about Tommy."

He was already close—too close—and your breath hitched when his hand came up, rough fingers curling around your throat, not tight, just there. A warning. A promise.

"You think I don’t see the way you look at me?" he growled, voice low and thick with want. "You wear his name, but your eyes… they fuckin’ beg for me."

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t deny it.

His mouth crashed into yours—brutal, greedy—and you melted under the weight of it. His hands were everywhere, dragging up your shirt, yanking down your jeans, not caring about gentleness. Not pretending this was something it wasn’t.

“You’ve been thinkin’ about this, haven’t you?” he rasped against your neck, teeth scraping. “While he’s sleepin’ next to you like a goddamn fool… you’ve been wet for me.”

You whimpered when his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding you soaked.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, lips curling into a dark smirk. “Look at you. So fuckin’ ready. All this for me?”

He turned you around and bent you over the kitchen counter, shoving your hips up. The cold surface bit into your skin, but it only made the fire burn hotter. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants unzipping—then the hot, heavy press of him at your entrance.

“Say it,” he demanded, fist gripping your hair. “Say who this pussy really belongs to.”

You bit your lip, trembling, and when he slammed into you in one hard, punishing thrust, the truth spilled out.

“You, Joel—fuck—it’s yours.”

“That’s right,” he snarled, pounding into you without mercy. “Not Tommy’s. Never was.”

Each thrust sent you reeling, your body pushed to the edge between pain and pleasure, desire and guilt. But you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not with Joel’s filthy mouth in your ear, not with the way he used you like he owned you.

Like he always had.

His thrusts grew harder. Rougher. You were gasping, clawing at the counter, barely able to hold yourself up as Joel fucked you like he owned every inch of your body.

“Listen to those fuckin’ sounds,” he grunted, hips slamming into your ass. “That wet little cunt’s singin’ for me.”

You cried out, your legs shaking, the pressure building fast, blinding. Joel’s hand wrapped around your throat again, pulling your head back so his mouth was at your ear.

“You gonna cum for me?” he growled. “You gonna make a mess all over my cock like a needy fuckin’ slut?”

Your answer came in a strangled moan, your body convulsing as the orgasm hit you hard, tearing through you like wildfire. Joel didn’t stop. He fucked you right through it, holding you there, panting.

But then he pulled out, suddenly, and you whimpered at the emptiness.

“Down,” he ordered, voice dark and low. “On your knees. Mouth open.”

You turned, eyes glassy, lips swollen, and dropped to your knees like you were born to be there. Joel stood over you, stroking his thick, glistening cock, slick with your cum.

“Look at you,” he muttered, staring down with a crooked smirk. “Tommy’s girl on her knees for me. Bet he don’t even know what that filthy little mouth’s capable of.”

You opened wide, tongue out, desperate. Joel groaned at the sight, then slid his cock into your mouth, slow at first, watching it disappear past your lips.

“Fuck… that’s it. Take it. Deep,” he growled, hand in your hair, guiding your rhythm. “Use that throat. Show me who you really belong to.”

You sucked him eagerly, moaning around his length, letting him use your mouth the way he wanted. He fucked your face with the same brutal rhythm he had your body, the taste of him thick and overwhelming.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, voice ragged, hips twitching. “You gonna swallow it like a good little whore?”

You moaned your answer, and with a deep, guttural growl, Joel buried himself to the hilt, spilling hot and heavy down your throat. You swallowed every drop, eyes locked on his, the taste of him flooding your senses.

When he pulled out, breathing hard, he looked down at you like he was already addicted.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered. “Next time, you’re gonna beg for it.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #sol / joel ꩜ .ᐟ

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mustyrosewater · 1 day ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,067

𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when she went missing, disappeared without a trace, it was almost like a deep seated black hole found it's way into rhetts chest, as he recalls all his time spent with her admist trying to find answers, the deep seated energy of the cursed lands they live on come apart to make way for lovers to find each other again.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: blood, car crash, supernatual elements, death.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: here it is, may or may not have felt my heart break just a little bit, but i really hope you've all enjoyed this series as much as i have. there's a lot here that's been left unanswered, because i wanted it to reflect a very real part of grief and loss. all i can say, is i hope you've enjoyed reading a house in nebraska series.

47 hours, it had been 47 hours since he’d last slept.

the wounds in his face had grown to their worst extent, the bruises across his face and their dark coloring only amplified but the lack of sleep, leaving his eyes sunken and his mind woozy.

his encounter with the shadow in his hallway, the images he’d been shown, he had not been able to stop thinking about them for even a split second.

each time he’d tried to close his eyes all he could see was that image of being held under water, hands around his neck brushing against his skin as his screams only produced bubbles.

it seemed that whatever force had chosen to show him this vision was insistent, desperate.

The only time he’d left the house, he’d been met with a series of stares and odd looks, the wounds and bruises on his face being more than enough of an attractor, but the troubled look on his face and reddened eyes from lack of sleep was more than enough. He could only ignore the way he was stared at, keep his head down and avoid any and all conversation for the time being.

Part of him could already feel the way the town was beginning to isolate him, word travelled quick, and he had no doubt within him that the fight he’d been the center of only a few nights ago had already made it’s way to the ears of every member of this community, painting him as unstable, presently not helped by his demanour.

When he’d stopped to fill his truck up, even there he felt the looks, the staring.

Going inside to pay, the woman at the counter seemed nervous to even hold eye contact with him, her fearful response to him only able to pull a small huff from his lips as he filed through the bills in his wallet in order to pay for his gas.

Throwing them against the counter, he watched the woman place it into the register and gather up his change, his busted lip doing nothing to hide the frown on his face as she held out the change for him.

Just as his hand reached out, the woman, seemingly desperate to avoid their hands touching in the slightest, allowed the coins to drop out of her own hand and drop onto the floor.

Whether it was purposeful or not, rhett decided he didn’t want to waste any more time, reaching down to pick up the coins bit by bit, letting out a soft grunt from the still tender muscles and bruises over his body being strained.

Even over the sound of his own head thrumming, he’d heard the gasp clear as day, soft and yet sharp, his head flew back up quickly to look at the woman, standing up at he saw her gaze to be aimed towards his chest, his hand coming up to feel for anything, looking down to try and see what had shocked her.

His blood ran cold as his fingers grazed over the cool metal of the cross necklace that had fallen from under his shirt.

Looking back up at the woman, the pair of them seemed to have a moment of complete silence exchanged between them, her eyes staying trained on his as if he might strike any second.

The seconds felt like eternity as they stood across from one another, only ending when rhett quickly turned and left, tucking the cross back into his shirt and going for his truck.

maybe that was why despite everything he’d been taught about the dangers of driving while sleep deprived, he was drving either way, his hand gripping the leather steering wheel with the look of a man who knew exactly what he was looking for, even if he himself had no clue what he was after.

the roads were dark now, no full moon in the sky to light his way this time, he could only see what was a few meters ahead of him with the yellowed head lights.

her feet were placed on the dashboard, eyes shut as she allowed the wind from the open window to brush across her face, some small escape from the july heat that was glaring down on the small town below.

his own eyes were trained in the road, silence overtaking the pair as they travelled, neither of them knew where they were heading, just that a drive had seemed to be what they needed; maybe they could find some peaceful stretch of field hidden from view, lay on the grass and watch the clouds.

as much as he shouldn’t take his eyes off the road, he couldn’t help himself but look upon her, the picture of an angel being kissed by the sunlight sitting right here in his dingy messy truck.

he didn’t deserve that.

the way he’d lived his life thus far hadn’t constituted being so blessed with her, he hadn’t held himself in a way that was deserving of such a beautiful creature sat beside him.

“eyes on the road angel.”

even with her eyes shut, somehow she’d known he was staring, her nickname for him used affectionately yet still carrying a warning tone.

he could only let out a smile and keep driving, turning his attention back to the road.

sometimes he’d have sworn she had eyes on the back of her head, the way she always seemed so aware of her surroundings, like she saw with more than just her eyes.

he was convinced that she was gonna outlive him purely based on that alone, like she was protected.

“what’d you tell him this time?”

his question caused the smile to fade from her face, her eyes opening for the first time in awhile since they’d started their drive.

she hadn’t answered at first, kept her eyes trained on the distance as she considered her next words, almost as if she was bothered by the question.

“he won’t even notice i’m gone, he’s working in that damn shed all day today.”

his brows furrowed at her answer, not wanting to face the risk of her father going looking for her, but he allowed her the favor of not digging further, trusting that she knew her father well enough.

even then, her eyes stayed open, her face carrying an unease to it until they’d finally arrived in the field of their choice.

a sea of yellowed grass stood before them, soft to the touch almost like a bed, easy and comfortable enough for them to settle onto and lay in each others arms, talking about whatever came to mind as they stared up at the sky, admiring the tops of the tree lines sneaking into the view.

“i don’t wanna die here.”

her words had taken him aback, his head lifting from its spot to look over at her, their hands touching as they laid there.

“huh?” his response showed his confusion, rising to his elbows as he allowed himself to turn on his side and look at her properly.

“what dya’ mean?”

“one day we’re gonna pack our things and leave.” she stated matter a factly, her eyes never leaving the sky until she finally rolled onto her side, her head remaining on the grass as she reached across the run a soft hand over his stubble.

“we could do it. just grab what we can and run.”

the lack of smile on her face told him she was completely serious, that her heart was set and nothing in this universe, including him, could change her mind.

his silence breathed anxiety across her face, her brows upturning and he stared back at her, waiting for the moment he dismissed her and called her nuts for thinking she was gonna get out of here.

instead, he leaned his face into her hand, shutting his eyes and breathing in the scent of her perfume before nodding his head.

“i guess i don’t have a choice but to go with you.”

his words brought a wide smile to her face, her excitement responding only causing her to launch forward and capture his lips, overjoyed at the silent pact they had made, the promise to each other that they’d run together.

run.

it was barely above a whisper, and yet when he’d heard it, the sharp hiss of that word from the back seat of his truck, he’d hardly had time to regain control as he let out a yell and turned quickly to see the empty back seat.

he’d fucking heard it; even if it was a whisper he’d known it was her voice, hissed out with a sense of urgency.

the wheels screeched, fighting back against his quick steering as he felt himself lurch to the side, his truck veering to the side quicker than he could control, his startled turn leading straight towards a tree in the side of the road.

unable to regain control quick enough, he’d watched his lights flash against the tree line, split seconds passing before his hands came up to his face, bracing himself for impact.

the last thing he heard, the sound of glass shattering and the crash of metal against bark.

the last thing he saw, the image in his rear view mirror.

as his exhaustion came back with a fiery vengeance, as well as the shock of his truck crashing into a tree, he could only fight back against the urge to pass out for so long.

yet as his eyes grew heavy, the pain beginning to go numb, he could see the image of something passing near his truck, his head lifting for a few mere seconds to see what was now standing a few meters away.

a pair of glowing eyes, staring across at him from the other side of the road.

Somehow even in his state, he knew it was the same pair of eyes, the same ones that had nearly caused him to crash only three days ago, now looking at the wreck with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

His chest burned with anger, his skin growing hot, so much so he was surprised that the blood over his face hadn’t begun to boil.

Summoning the strength from his anger, he managed to wrench the seatbelt off of him, the door swinging open, it felt like slow motion, the pain his his body screaming and begging for him to stop, yet he continued, practically falling out of the drivers seat and onto the dirt.

The coyote hardly seemed phased by his movements, just as last time, it stayed perfectly still and unmoving, staring him down with unblinking eyes, those same eyes that seemed to observe with the intelligence of something inhuman.

Crawling across the dirt, he found himself getting closer and closer to the animal, reaching his bloodied hand out towards it, only to find himself finally succumbing to the exhaustion he’d been fighting against for the past two days. Head hitting the dirt ground with a dull thump.

When he’d opened his eyes, he was no longer laying in the dirt, instead he had found himself standing alone in a field of yellowed grass, his vision limited apart from the moonlight.

It had taken him a moment, but he’d quickly recognised this place as the field they’d promised each other that they would run away together, even down to the flattened area of grass at his feet where they’d been laying, as if it was only that same day.

He felt stuck, unable to move from the spot he was standing, like his feet were being buried in the grass, like roughspun rope holding him in place with absolutely no means of escape.

Everywhere he looked there was only the dark tree line, a circle entrapping him. His mind was spinning as he turned, his heart beginning to race.

The sounds were quiet as first, cutting through the booming silence, the only bit of noise in this entire place, no rustle of trees or soft wind, only those sounds like a wounded animal, growing louder and louder until they began to melt into the sounds of human screams.

His head ached, the sound coming across as similar to nails on a chalkboard, blood curdling screeches against his brain making him kneel over and try to place his hands over his ears for any relief from the sounds that felt like they were now coming in all different directions, a chorus of the same scream all coming at him from every direction.

As quick as it had started, the screams let up almost instantly, dead still silence once again taking over the hellscape he found himself in.

Opening his eyes, he took his hands off of his ears and tried to look out into the darkness for any sign of what it was that was making the sounds before, only to find nothing but forest staring back at him.

In the corner of his eyes, he could see only small whispers of movement, a flash of white against the darkened treeline surrounding him, seemingly coming from any and all direction, only to disappear as soon as she looked directly at it.

He could feel the panic finally beginning to set in, his head whipping in any direction it could, desperately trying to lay eye’s upon whatever it was running against the treeline, taunting him silently.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his panting beginning to be the only sound that could be heard, no echo or brush of leaves against one another, just his ramming heartbeat and panting, his own head beginning to feel dizzied, his eyes growing heavy as his sight grew blurred.

Almost as if it was instantaneous, his head stopped looking around, his eye’s landing on a sight that seemingly ripped the dizziness from him, everything in that moment seeming to grow to a cracking standstill.

Only a few meters directly in front of him, there she stood, her white church dress flowing despite the absence of any wind, her back turned to him, only being graced with the sight of her hair against her back.

He’d tried to call out her name, yet the words were stuck in his throat, almost as if there was some other force keeping him from trying to call for her, imprisoning his own voice in his chest.

His instinct caused him to fight against whatever it was keeping him stood there, summoning what he could of his strength to finally pull himself to her, to grab her arm and run away out of this hellscape.

As his desperation grew, his mouth opened, a silent scream leaving his throat, veins developing on his temple from how hard he was trying to scream for her, tears beginning to well up in his eye’s as she stood only meters away from him, unable to hear him.

Finally, as if whatever force was keeping him stood still had finished having its fun with him, almost instantaneously he felt himself free’d from the confines of the ground below him, sending him flying forward onto the ground, gripping the thick grass instantly and trying to pull himself back up.

Looking up and ahead, where she had once stood only meters away, she was now stood in front of him, her eyes staring down at him with a look of helplessles.

Unlike whatever it was that had manifested in his apartment, she wasn’t drenched in water, now, here she was in front of him, just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her, her skin practically glowing, her eyes still carrying that same look of mystery that they always had.

Here she was now in front of him, as if she’d never left him in the first place.

Even if neither was able to speak, Rhett still found himself able to at leasy reach forward and place his hand against her cheek, his rough hand coming across her skin only to feel as if he was touching a cloud, so soft and almost transparent as if she was made of smoke. Her eyes grew sadder as his hands barely brushed against her skin, her brows furrowing in the same that they always had, making him feel as if she knew more than he was ever capable of knowing, that her knowledge of this world seemed to greatly outweigh his own, a wisdom he could never hope to compare to, only matched up with a great sadness.

As he look back at her, his own brows furrowed, a pained look on his face, unable to express it in words; her hands coming up to ghost touches of her fingers against his cheeks, only able to find himself shutting his eyes and relishing the feeling he’d been craving for so long, the feeling of her heavenly touch against his skin.

He could only relish the feeling, feel his heart immediately calmed by her touch, only appreciate it for as long as it might last, allowing her to tell him she loved him in the only way she was able to.

Just as it had been so many other countless times, when his eyes finally reopened, he was no longer in that darkened field, now finding himself staring up at the night sky, the smell of his crashed turck accompanied by the now present sound of wind against leaves, the soft chirping of animals in the distance, sound returning to his ears as he lay against the dirt road he had passed out on, how long ago, he had no clue.

His body ached each time he moved, only able to let out a grunt as he slowly rose to his feet, blood already gathered around his nose, new injuries added onto the ones he’d previously incurred.

Staring at the dirt ground in front of him, his eyes glared into the spot where the coyote had once stood, tracks of small paw prints showing him where the animal had headed, a trail which seemed to call out to him, daring him to follow.

Only able to muster up what small bit of rationality he could, he held a hand against his aching rib, slowly beginning to follow the trail of coyote tracks presented to him, something deep in his stomach making it seem like this was the only reasonable course of action to take from there.

The woods hadn’t always been the most romantic place in the world, but there was only so many places the pair of them were able to sneak around without being seen, a small town of gossiping wives was a recipe for disaster anyhow.

At least here, as the sun reached through the cracks in the tree’s and down upon them, they had their only little slice of heaven here, alone and safe from the prying eyes of everybody else around them.

His lips molded against her’s in a way that suggested they had been shaped just for one another, his hands against her waist in a silent promise of safety, holding her softly against a tree as he continued to steal kisses from her, the soft giggles that sounded like bells sounding out as he moved his soft kisses to her cheek and forehead, unable to stop peppering his lips against the skin of her face.

Bringing her hands up to push him away softly, she could only smile up at him, her eyes seemingly pouring with a look of love and admiration, looking up at him as if he were blessing come to life and stood in front of her.

“I love you Rhett Abbot.”

Her words took him aback only for a second, her hand coming to rest on his cheek and run her thumb softly against his rough skin, her words only seemed to summon a deep warmth within his chest, a feeling of utter euphoria.

“You can say things like that to me, dandelion..”

His response made her head tilt, her brows furrowing only for Rhett to lean in and steal another kiss, his hands resting on her cheeks as he shut his eyes, letting his lips mold over her own all over again, pressing his body against her own.

Pulling away, he let his forehead rest against her’s, smiling deeply and keeping his eyes closed in order for him to appreciate the moment of serenity they were entrapped in.

“Now i’m never gonna let you go.”

His promise brought a smile to her face, letting her eyes remain closed as she inhaled his scent, the smell of woodfire’s on his flannel button down, the taste of bourbon on his lips, he was like her own personal aphrodisiac.

A mutual promise to one another, a vow of love and protection, stronger than any silver band or blessings read out by a priest, a unbreakable bond now shared between the two of them, never to be severed so long as they still breathed air.

The forest wasn’t filled in with sun anymore, it was almost completely dark, save for the moonlight shining in through the cracks in the tree’s, illuminating just enough for him to still follow to seemingly neverending coyote tracks before him.

Each step he took seemed to bring pain searing across his body, the sharp prain against his rips now presenting him with the feeling of a hot wetness against his hand, a feeling which he chose to ignore, some other part of him, desperation screaming out to him to continue following the tracks in front of him.

He had not idea what he was looking for, no clue what he hoped to find when he finally finished following the paw prints against the dirt ground, he could only continue, fight through the pain as he persevered.

It seemed that the further and further into the forest he became, he could only feel as overwhelming sense of fear beginning to take over, fear that didn’t feel like his own, like an imprint of emotions had been left behind, like the smell of smoke that never seems to be able to washed out.

Something terrible had happened on the ground where he was standing and he could practically feel it emanating from the ground below his feet.

Only continuing on, he wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted by whatever was seemingly trying to distract him, the eyes that he could feel watching him, the way he could have sworn he could hear his footsteps echoing around him, until they seemingly began to turn into footsteps of their own, like he was being followed.

He continued until his entire shirt had begun to be soaked with his own blood, the pain beginning to feel more like a dull numbness, to the point he hardly even recalled what had caused the open wound in the first place, a piece of metal from his truck? Maybe glass? He could hardly remember.

The coyote tracks seemed never ending, as if the animal had gone on for hours, it now felt like hours that he’d been trailing the damned thing, trying so desperately when he didn’t even know what he was being led to.

As much as he’d recalled her warnings about the animal, it now seemed like the only reasonable thing to do, at this point he would have done anything just to know what happened, even if he could never hold her in his arms again.

When the tracks finally came to a halt, it felt almost purposeful, the clearing in the sea of tree’s presenting moss covered rocks and a body of water that he could have sworn seemed familiar to him, and yet his brain couldn’t comprehend where.

Stumbling further into the clearing he’d seemingly been led to, he could see movement out of the corner of his eye, only able to whip his head around, laying eyes on the very same animal he’d been following this entire time.

Now seemingly perched on one of the many moss covered rocks littered around him, it stared down at him with those same eyes that had glared across at him so many times now.

Silence overtook the pair of them, seemingly just staring each other down, yet no where near in a way that told him the animal felt threatened by his presence, if anything, it was the other way around. “What do you want huh?” his words were croaked, his injury now making itself more known than ever, sending shockwaves of pain all across his body each time he moved, his hand resting against it, his body beginning to crouch slightly.

No answer, of course there wouldn’t be, it was an animal, why would it answer him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel like it was trying to tell him something, waiting for something to click in his own mind.

“What the fuck do you want!”

His scream echoed throughout the tree’s travelling across the forest, the coyote seemingly having no reaction, only allowing it’s gaze to travel away from Rhett’s own, seeming to catch something a few meters away, closer to the body of water.

The dread he’d been feeling since he stepped foot in the forest, the pit of fear deep in his stomach that had seemed to never go away, the source was there before him, his heart feeling as if it was beginning to shatter, heat travelling across his entire body as he could make out what it was.

“Oh jesus christ.” his voice broke, wobbling out of his throat as his lip trembled, silently he begged for it not to be what he throught it was, tears welling up in his eyes already.

“Please god no..” his prayers were useless, his words going unheard on deaf ears as he began to step towards the shape poking out of the water, a glimpse of white fabric, the sight of dark hair clinging to skin.

The closer he became, he couldn’t help the bile rising from his stomach, only able to keel over and let the contents of his almost empty stomach empty onto the ground, the dread causing such an adverse physical reaction he almost felt like he was dying.

Just as nearly came to stand right above where she was lying upon the grass, he felt his own body give way, the wound in his side seeming to finally claim what little of his strength he had left, only leaving him bleeding into the moss below.

Digging his fingers into the ground, he continued to her, crawling and dragging his body closer and closer, ignoring the way he could feel his own body beginning to give out at any moment.

His muscles burned, his head spun, yet he continued, finally coming to lay beside where she laid as well.

Even if she had been missing for nearly two months, she still seemed pristine, as if nature had barely taken ahold of her; by some odd force that he had little hope of understanding, she hadn’t changed in the slightest. Her hair was still wet, her eyes staring up at the night sky as if she was still making shapes out of the stars like she’d always used to, the red marks in the shape of hands on her throat seemingly the only stain across her skin, looking like a china doll made of the most priceless material on earth.

His heart ached in a way he’d never felt before, as if this was comparable to finding out she’d even gone missing in the first place, this was worse than the physical pain his body was going through, this was as if someone was ripping part of his very soul away.

Pure and utter turmoil, his throat only able to let out deep and guttural sobs as he placed a hand across her cheek like he had always used to, swearing that she still felt warm, like she’d been doing nothing except laying here waiting for him.

“I-I’m here now dandelion.”

He tried to comfort her, just as if she’d only scraped her knee and wasn’t laying dead before him.

“Its okay, you’re safe now.” his voice broke, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles to his lips to kiss her skin softly.

He let himself roll onto his back softly, keeping her hand interlocked tightly in his own, letting his eyes roll up to look at the stars above them, the pair of them now laying there staring up at the constellations that they’d have previously spent so long looking up at on those summer july nights.

“Lets just rest here for a moment.”

His voice was hardly above a whisper, the wound in his side ripping the last inkling of his voice away from him, his bloodloss making his skin white, his eyes hollowed.

Somehow, despite the pain in his heart, there was some small part of him that began to feel relief, even as his consciousness began to slip away from him, he gripped her hand tightly, feeling at least the smallest bit of satisfaction knowing that they were together again.

The forest had always seemed determined to bring her back to him, just like he’d promised so long ago, she was never going to be away from him for long, they’d vowed that to each other, that very same unbreakable promise, made in that very same forest.

Its so quiet here.

Nothing but the sound of peace, soft winds and the sound of grass swishing against itself.

The sun always shines on their skin, keeps them warm as they lay together, an eternity of peace, far from anything that could ever hurt them.

All they do all day is lay in each others arm’s and whisper prayers of devotion to one another, day and night, when the sun goes down and the moon takes its place.

Nobody ever found them; just as she’d disappeared so did he, his truck being the last evidence of his existence on this planet, the wreck on the side of the dirt road.

No missing poster ever went up for him, just as her’s were eventually taken down.

Here they’re protected from the prying eyes of all the others that would have judged them, here they only have each other.

And that’s closer to heaven than most people ever find in their life.

taglist: @peachyrue-777 . @definitelykyles .

#lewis pullman #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbot outer range #lewis pullman fic #lewis pullman x reader #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts

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sightseertrespasser · 2 days ago

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Everything you've shared so far about the reverse mecha au really got the ideas going, and I just had to get this out of my system. It's still a rough draft and there's a lot I want to do with this and improve on, but I'm just happy I finally got it written down.

Prowl threw himself into the shadows of an enormous doorway as a line of blinding light widened and filled the dimmed corridor. He squeezed his eyes shut against the growing glow and strained his ears for any kind of noise. If the scratchy swishing was anything to go by, the Quintesson was moving away from him.

He peeked out from his hiding spot once the blaze of light disappeared from behind his eyelids. In the darkness he could just make out a massive form growing smaller and smaller as it moved down the passageway. He waited a few more seconds just to be safe, then dashed away in the opposite direction.

It hadn’t been long since he’d escaped from his cell, but he had no idea when his captors would decide to check on their prisoner. They could discover his absence any moment, and wouldn’t that be fantastic. He stood no chance against those aliens without his mecha, and it’d be infinitely more difficult to locate it and get out if the whole ship was out to find him—because he wasn’t dumb; for some reason the Quints wanted him alive.

It’d been a blur, his capture. From what he could recall though, the Quintessons had used much more excessive force on Jazz than on him. He couldn’t say why exactly they wanted him alive (though it certainly didn’t bode well for him), but he had no intention of finding out. At least, not while vulnerable.

So he had to get to his mecha and fast. Or Jazz, if he could find him. Whatever came first; he wouldn’t complain.

He picked up the slightest hissing sound, like air escaping from a balloon. Up ahead, another line of light struck the corridor wall as a door began to slide open. Prowl didn’t wait to see what came next; he sprinted for the closest doorway, (a much larger one, he noted distractedly). Squinting against the growing illumination, he pressed himself further into the fading shadows. This time, however, no actual door stopped his movement.

He stumbled into a dark room, the light in the corridor spilling into it like grasping fingers. Yet as quickly as it appeared, the darkness just as swiftly overtook it. He heaved a sigh of relief when he realized the Quintesson in the hallway also moved farther away.

He picked himself up and raised his head, only to be met with a sight he didn’t entirely expect.

Prowl had no words. He didn’t think it’d be this easy, but lo and behold, right at the end of the room stood his mecha. He could only make out the rough shape of it, but there was no mistaking the wings. He scanned the room (at least as well as he could) and listened for any unwanted company.

Nothing.

He stayed near the wall as he approached, already formulating a way to actually enter the mecha. It’d be difficult without a gangway, but he could make do with some of the structures already in the room. The huge boxes were too large, but that cylindrical shape—

Prowl froze.

He stared at the blurry silhouette, hardly believing his eyes. When he walked closer, though, there really wasn’t any denying it. Craning his head, Prowl made out the distinct shape of a weapon only one pilot ever managed to use.

He turned his attention back to the mecha, to the mecha he’d been so sure was his own (because only Support Class models had those wings, not Rescue, not Tanks, not Scouts). Except this close and he picked out all the small differences. The sleeker design meant to enhance mobility and speed. The specialized armor on the legs meant to support the mecha as it fired round after round. The guarded ports on its wrists so the massive firearm could integrate with the its systems more efficiently. The numbers that definitely did not read 028.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Prowl vaguely remembered a familiar voice mentioning “how cool it’d be to have wings like that!”

Against all odds, against everything he knew, here stood Bluestreak’s mecha intact and whole—sporting the wings his brother always wanted.

===========================

Bluestreak opened his eyes to a ceiling he didn’t recognize and stared at it, a bit dazed but intrigued nonetheless.

It was a little funny. Unlike the neat interior of his mecha or the orderly structure of Cybertronian ships, the ceiling looked like a piece of art. Like . . . like abstract art; like those paintings he could never really figure out. That's what the swirls and shapes reminded him of! The waves and curves ran along the entire ceiling like countless tiny streams converging and scattering. Did they start as one big wave, or had they begun as millions of tiny ones until they formed a whole?

Bluestreak tried craning his head to find out, but it moved too slow. He tried pushing himself up next, but only managed to curl the tips of his fingers.

Hmm, that was funny.

It was like his whole body was asleep. Or like it was super heavy . . . like if gravity was pressing down on him so much to keep in place. Yeah, exactly like that, because try as he might, nothing moved as he wanted except his eyes.

Well that’s not right—hold on.

A giddy laugh escaped his numb lips.

Sunny and Sides had pointed out that being confined to his mecha was like house arrest. Now that he was stuck in his own body, did that make him a fleshy prison? A fleshy prison for his soul? Or was it his spark? Wait, no, Sunny and Sides had sparks; he had a soul. Unless . . . what if those were just different words for the same thing? Actually it probably was since that sort of thing happened in basically every language. Aliens could have their own language but they’d probably have words to describe some of the same things he knew. Yeah, that was probably it. He’d already learned that concept first hand when he figured out Sunny’s and Side’s language. Maybe they knew about it too? Didn’t they say they’d been all over the universe? He was pretty sure they did. He’d have to ask about . . . ask about . . . There was something he wanted to tell—no ask—Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

Bluestreak racked his brain for that something, but anytime he thought he grasped at it, it slipped away like fog. It was on the tip of his tongue, but it stubbornly refused to make itself known. How was he supposed to tell them this thing he didn’t know if he didn’t know what it was? They’d been patient enough waiting for him to talk but—actually, now that he thought about it, that wasn’t right. Things were kinda too quiet.

Normally Sideswipe had something to say when Bluestreak really got going, and Bluestreak always made a point to leave enough pauses so he could have his say too. And if he had nothing to add, Sunstreaker usually had short responses to keep the conversation going.

He scanned the room as well as he could, at least until it hurt trying to look out through his peripherals. He was pretty sure it was empty, well, aside from him of course.

So . . . it was just him in this med bay (at least, he thought it was a med bay what with all the beeping and whirring from behind him; if he could look behind himself there’d probably all sorts of machinery). Maybe the Twins didn’t want to be in this med bay; they did only ever go to medics they trusted, and he knew from experience they wouldn’t step foot into an unknown one if they could help it. Except . . . they wouldn’t let him go to an unknown one either. So maybe being in a strange room by himself wasn’t such a good thing even though he was able to be there without his head feeling like it was burning at a million degrees?

Bluestreak suddenly wished his brain wasn’t as murky as it was. It’d be so much easier to figure things out that way. Or if he could just ask Sunstreaker and Sideswipe about all this since they’d probably—

Footsteps echoed outside the room and he stared down his nose trying to see who’d enter.

“There you are!” The white and black Cybertronian who stepped into the weird med bay was definitely not Sunstreaker or Sideswipe—and he’d definitely just spoken English.

That was . . . surprising. Bluestreak couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone speak it.

The Cybertronian chuckled. “Did you get another concussion? What else would I be using with you?”

Had he said that out loud? “Oh, uh, it’s just basically everyone else I’ve seen doesn’t and I’m pretty sure none of them even know about it so this is definitely a surprise.”

“Riiiight.” The Cybertronian stepped closer then looked him up and down. His blue visor gleamed when he glanced to something behind Bluestreak. “Well none of this looks like it's trying to kill you. Let me figure out how to disconnect everything.”

“Oh, well that’s good. It’d kinda suck if it was killing me.”

“You’re telling me. Now, can you get up or . . . ”

“Right now it’s like gravity decided to pin me to this berth. That or maybe my body just got heavier?”

“Okay, I’m just going to help you up so I can start unhooking everything. Please let me know if anything starts hurting.” He gently slipped his fingers beneath Bluestreak’s back and carefully slid him back until he leaned against the beeping machine. “So how’re you feeling? Any other weird side effects aside from that and tolerating light?”

Tolerating light? “I mean, aside from becoming a fleshy prison for my spark-soul it’s also kinda nice to be outside my mecha prison without all the extra pain, you know? I mean, it’d also be nice if I could actually sit up on my own but other than that I think I’m doing just fine. Oh, by the way, if you can let Sunny and Sides know I’m okay that’d be really great!”

Now that he wasn’t on his back, he saw the mess of wires and cables trailing all over his body. Every few seconds he’d feel a soft tug from behind, then one of those wires retracted away from him. It was mesmerizing to watch, and he would’ve continued watching if not for the flare of light at his side.

He glanced up at the nice Cybertronian and found the gleaming blue visor focused on him.

“Er, is something wrong?” This time when he tried craning his head, his body actually complied. “I mean I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you watching me, I appreciate the company, it’s just no one but the Twins really get this close to me. Something about how the others aren’t as used to organics, I guess.”

The visor continued to shine on him. “You’re not Prowl, are you?”

“Umm, no.” Bluestreak knew they looked similar, but was it really—waitaminute. His brain latched onto what he’d just said. “Wait . . . you’re looking for Prowl.”

“Uh, yeah. But now that I’m here I think you could do with some help too.”

“No—hold on—if you’re looking for Prowl that means he’s here? Like, on this ship here, right?” He didn’t wait for answer. “Can you take me to him?”

===========================

They watched the Quintesson turn the corner, waiting until the scraping of its armor faded away. Neither uttered a word; right now stealth was everything. The necessity of silence ruled out verbal communication, and the jamming device on the Quint ship compromised their comms. Though for them, that was hardly an obstacle.

//Found him yet?// Sunstreaker asked across their sparkbond.

//I think he should be up ahead.// Sideswipe answered.

Incredulity blossomed across their connection. //You think?//

//Well whenever the jamming isn’t messing with my sensors, I’m able to see an organic lifeform somewhere in front of us. So unless you found a way to deal with that, this’s the best we got.//

//Fine, let’s just get him and get out.// His brother made no sound as he sent that, but the frustration across their bond was enough to make up for it.

Sideswipe didn’t miss the way his hands tightened on his energon blades either. //Look, I know you’re twitchy with this many Quints, but—//

//I know. I’m not stupid.//

//Hey, just saying.//

//Yeah yeah. But if they did anything to him . . . //

//Nah, I got it. There’ll be a bloodbath for sure.//

They continued down the corridor until they reached the only open door they could see. Sunstreaker watched the hall while Sideswipe scanned the room. His sensors had cleared up some, but it still blurred with interference. From what he could tell though, the dot indicating Blue’s location had to be someone in the room. It would make sense too. His mech stood upright and offline at the back, his gun laid neatly at its pedes. If he’d managed to get away from the Quints, of course he’d go for his mech to get out.

//I don’t see anyone, but this is his last known location.// Sideswipe sent.

//This is the only room he could’ve entered, and there’s no sign of him out here.// Sunstreaker followed him in and used the blinking panel to close the door. //Let’s check it out.//

“Blue, you here?” Sideswipe called softly.

No answer.

//Can you see where exactly he is now?//

//Give me a klik.//

//Fine. I’ll check his mecha; maybe he’s inside and needs a power jump?// Sunstreaker approached it slowly and spoke quietly. “If you’re in there Blue, let me know now. Or else I’m assuming you need help getting your mech back online.”

Again, nothing.

Sideswipe watched his brother step up to the mech, hands slowly moving to its chassis. At the same time, the feedback in his HUD finally cleared. //Got something.//

Sunstreaker paused and followed his actions as he move to the side.

Sideswipe focused on the blinking dot and scanned the stacks of containers until—there! Peering over one of the lower stacks, he found a familiar head of white.

“Guess you didn’t need us for your grand escape, huh?” He lowered his hand. “Are you okay? I don’t know what the Quints did, but we gotta get you back to your mech and get outta here.”

He expected a flurry of chatter, maybe even some surprised exclamations. He did not at all anticipate the unintelligible yelling.

Sunstreaker rushed to his side in an instant. The fact he forewent their spark bond attested to his own shock. “Do you want us to get caught?”

“It’s not my fault!” Sideswipe protested. He tried scooping Bluestreak up, but their friend simply darted out of reach. “Just—Blue, it’s us!”

The human showed no signs of understanding or recognizing them. In fact, he went so far as to try running away.

Sunstreaker pushed the containers aside, cutting off his mad dash. “Bluestreak, come on.” His hand darted forward and grabbed him with deadly precision.

If he was yelling before, now he was screaming—and hitting.

“Wha—Blue, stop!” Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s gaze. “Any ideas?”

“For starters don’t drop him!”

“No slag,” he snapped. “What else?”

“The Quints are probably behind this, so whatever they did we just have to reverse!”

“And how’re we supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe get him to his mech?”

“If he’s fighting us like this, what’s to stop him from fighting us when he’s inside it?”

“Well do you have any bright ideas?” Sideswipe demanded. The glare he got in response told him all he needed to know. “Look, let’s just get out of here. We have some good medics and scientists; they’ll know what to do.”

Sunstreaker held Bluestreak further away as his yelling devolved into screeching. “Yeah, good plan, except now our stealth’s fragged.”

Sideswipe had nothing to say to that. Yeah . . . things were a bit more complicated now.

===========================

Jazz held his hand over his shoulder, careful not to jostle Bluestreak as he moved down the corridor. Although, he probably didn’t have to worry about catching him any longer. Now that he wasn’t hooked up to that monstrosity of a machine pumping him full of Primus knew what, Bluestreak was more steady on his feet. In fact, Prowl’s brother seemed to have regained most of his mobility and presence of mind.

He no longer swayed as he held on to Jazz’s fingers, and he now kept his head on a swivel as they travelled through the Quintesson ship. Every now and then he’d point to something in the distance, and Jazz would follow his new directions. It wasn’t like he had any better idea of where to go; he’d mapped out most of the upper levels of the ship when he’d infiltrated, not those at the rear. Besides, the interference to most of his sensors also impeded them, so any direction (as long as it included minimal Quints) was better than none at all.

He felt a spike of nervousness from his shoulder, and scanned the darkened corridor. His visor picked up the slightest movement from the intersecting hallway up ahead, and he darted back to the corner they’d just passed. The faint sound of Quintesson armor scraping against itself echoed in the silence, then faded. Jazz peered around the corner and caught a glimpse of inky tentacles as the Quint moved out of the passageway. He glanced back at Bluestreak and gave a small nod. The human returned it with a shaky thumbs up.

Not for the first time, he wished they had some way to talk through comms. Sure, he could rely on Bluestreak’s EM field to get a basic read of threats he saw, but comms would’ve simplified communication. And given them a chance to actually talk.

Their first interaction might not have been the most accurate portrayal of character, but that along with the constant activity of Bluestreak’s EM field made it clear the human had a lot to say. The urge to speak became a tangible thing on his shoulder, one he could sympathize with. It wasn't often that—

Bluestreak’s EM field spiked with confusion, then jolts of shock.

Jazz looked his way and found him gripping his fingers. He scanned the corridor, then asked softly, “Bluestreak, what’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to answer. “You know how I mentioned I wasn’t able to stay outside my mech—” he squeezed his eyes shut like Prowl did when the lights were too much, then brought a hand to his head “—for long? I think whatever the Quints did so I’d be okay in that lab is wearing off.”

That wasn't good. “Then we better get you to your mech and fast.”

He began to move past the corner when muffled shouting drew him to a stop. The yelling—in languages he understood—was close by.

Jazz scanned the passageway again. No one new in sight, but the shouting clearly came from the hallway up ahead. He thought he could make out some pretty colorful swears and something about . . . a race?

Bluestreak managed a weak smile. “Something tells me we should check that out.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Jazz stepped away from their hiding place and moved towards the noise. Hopefully they’d be the only ones who noticed the commotion.

Well, I wanted to keep going with the eventual reunion and the epic fight scene, but that's something I want to do justice to (so maybe next time, hopefully). 'Cause that'd have a great way to explain why Blue had the wings added to his mecha (I was thinking maybe he got them installed later by the Cybertronian scientists who'd helped him before, probably to help him with processing all the information he'd be getting? And to his mind, what would be better to use as a reference than the one other mecha he knew pretty well?) Oh, and that bit about a race...I thought it'd be funny if Sunny and Sides finally settled on the idea of just transforming and racing out of the ship. Like Jazz and Blue enter the room to see them fighting about who'd be taking "Blue" with them, and their arguing had just devolved into who's the fastest

This was a treat to read!

Love it when things get shuffled around a characters have to improvise how’ll they’ll work together on the fly.

Also love the use of Prowl’s crappy vision to draw out the reveal. Poor dudes loosing his mind most likely trying to interrogate Sunny and Sides for the location of his brother.

#asks #reverse mecha au

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