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parkerluvsu · 3 days

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can u write something about art and reader having high sex 😛😛😛🙏🏻🙏🏻 like idk just like a chill night at the dorm at stanford or something where they smoke a couple blunts and grind on each other idk!!!!!!!!!!!

MOONLIGHT (art donaldson x fem! reader)

sometimes you felt like a bad influence on art.. he wouldn't let anything that wasn't on his pre-planned diet touch his lips before he met you. but from the first puff of your joint under the bleachers of the tennis court, he was hooked. not just on the woozy feeling he got when he took too long of a hit, but on the feeling of having you around him.

the more you two hung out, the more art associated the feeling of his head in the clouds, not with the large puffs of smoke drifting around his room, but you the feeling of you sitting next to him, your legs draped over his. art feels guilty, if he got caught, he'd absolutely get thrown out of the tennis program, and probably never be able to attend a good school again, but on the other hand.. your sweet giggles as you blow smoke into his face gave made him forget all the consequences if he got caught.

the problem with you (and it's not even really a problem to art.. he thinks you're perfect) is you like things casual. sure you've made out with art in a haze of smoke, maybe grinded a bit over his jeans in the back of his overly clean jeep, and he can't even count the times that you've texted him "you up?" at 2am, but he's never been your "boyfriend".

art knows it would be hard to have a serious conversation with you without the guise of just coming over to smoke, so he shoots you a text.

art: hey can i come over? need to relax :)

the buzz of your phone from the desk beside you steals your attention from your math homework, a welcome distraction. you text him back quickly, eager to have an excuse to smoke.

an eager knock on your door comes only minutes later, arts face a mixture of nerves and excitement, like a kid sneaking candy from their parents. art looks as cute as ever in his wrinkled stanford shirt and his checkered shorts, hair tussled from a night at practice. "cmon in artie" his cheeks blush at the nickname as he enters your dorm, making himself comfortable in the cozy chair in the corner. you pull out the box of paraphernalia from under your bed, flower stickers peeling off of the box from overuse. you tilt your head to the side, looking at arts body language, his constant shifting telling you he's trying to seem calm but he really isn't. "what do you wanna smoke?" you ask him, knowing what his answer will be before he even opens his mouth, "whatever you want".

that seems to be arts answer for anything, "whatever you want", sometimes you think if you walked off the edge of a cliff he'd do the same. art was one of those people who followed everything you did, the way you sat, the way you talked, and even your vocabulary, he would shift to be more similar to you. even when he smoked for the very first time, he watched you inhale so deep and hold it in before blowing a large cloud of smoke into the air, he tried to do the same.. but ended up greening out and throwing up in the trashcan next to the tennis courts. the truth is, art would do that all over again if it meant even one more second with you, and he knew it was clingy and definitely too dependent for the casual situation you were in.. but he can't help himself.

me: sure, come over anytime

art is a lightweight in every sense of the word, whenever Patrick would take him to a frat party to get totally wasted, all it took was one red solo cup full of beer to have art stumbling over his own feet. It was the same with weed, it only took one hit for art to start slurring his words, his body pretty much melting into any surface near him. currently, it's the cozy chair in the corner of your room, but you can see his eyes drifting towards the cozy blankets on you bed. "art, you know you can go sit on my bed right?" his eyes widen and he shuffles over, flopping down on the bed in such a way that would make sober-him flush with embarrassment. you giggle as he wraps himself in the blankets, his head lolling onto the pillow. art blearily watches you come sit on the bed too, leaning against the wall for support. the sight of him tangled up in your blankets reminds you of previous late nights spent together, causing a flutter in your stomach that you're a little ashamed of. art leans over to give you the joint back, your fingers brushing together softly. "y'know you look super pretty right now" art says, "n-not that you don't always look pretty but like.. right now especially" he revises his statement, he's always such a people pleaser. you laugh, taking a long hit from the joint before giving him a wide smile. "thanks artie, you're pretty too" you reply, knowing he likes being called pretty, even though he'd absolutely never say it, the way his ears go red gives him away every time.

as the night goes on, and your shared joint turns into a stub, you find yourself closer to art than you thought you were, your sides pressed up against each other as you lay on your backs, staring up at your ceiling. the boring white paint suddenly seeming very interesting until you felt movement beside you, art was tuning on his side and leaning his face on his hand. you blink, "what are you looking at?" glancing at arts eyes that were fixed on your face. "you" art says simply, causing you to shake your head and laugh. "i know that art.. but why?" you ask, pressing for an answer from him. "dunno.. just your face is nice" he says, his face dropping into your shoulder. arts breath was hot against your neck, making you almost want to pull away, but you'd never do that, enjoying the weight of him against you. arts breathing rate increases against your neck and you wonder why until you feel a pressure against your thigh. "art.." he hums in response, only focused on the small sharp movements of his hips. you know how quickly he shifts from being all innocent and sweet to taking what he needs.

you're such a sucker for art, especially when he's high and he can't hide his feelings like he usually does. you shift your leg to the side to help him, inciting an immediate response of his eyes fluttering shut against your shoulder, his eyelashes tickling you gently. the position that you maneuvered into allowed arts leg to slot between yours as well, letting you slowly rock your hips against his leg, the feeling of his bare skin only making you feel more pleasure. before you know it, art is pressing hot kisses into your neck and your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck. "mmmmmfuck" art groans against your neck, even though he's feeling less woozy than earlier, he's still sensitive, just the feeling of grinding against you having him teetering on the edge. suddenly, you feel his hips stutter and a dampness cover the front of his shorts. art holds his breath for a second before his whole body goes limp against you, his fingers not clenching the sheets anymore.

a comfortable silence falls between you, before art breaks it with his soft voice. "can we go again? 'm sorry i just.. i need you" he whines out, still not showing his face. you giggle softly and nod, lifting up your hips to pull off your pajama pants and panties, art doing the same with his shorts and boxers. "how do you want me?" you ask, sending a flutter of butterflies into arts stomach because of the sense of control you're giving him. art thinks for a second, "can you turn around..? please" he asks, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. you nod, turning to face the wall next to your bed, your back facing art. his gentle hands maneuver your legs into a position that's easy for him to slip into you. he does so slowly, more for your sake than his, he thinks if he pushed inside of you too fast he would surely cum prematurely (not like it hasn't happened before).

you feel art shiver against you, his hips pausing when he enters your fully, his balls resting snugly against your ass. art could truly stay like this forever, if he had the patience and resolve.. but he doesn't, his hips snap into yours quickly, the overstimulation getting to him. he wraps his arms around your stomach, holding you close to him, his head yet again smushed into the crook of your neck. every thrust he gives you feels like it's punching the air out of you, art isn't even pulling all the way out anymore, just humping his hips into you the best he can. even in his delicate headspace, art still wants to please you first, his fingers making their way down your stomach before rubbing messily at your clit, his fingers catching on your nub every few circles, causing you to tighten up around him. art is close, you can always tell by how his voice shifts from more coherent to just straight up blabbering, "mgh.. god.. 's so warm.. you're so warm.." "it feels s' good.. it's feels good to you too right?" "gotta be closer to you.. wan' be closer to you" but you snap to attention when he moans against you, "please be m' girlfriend please.. i wan' you to be mine.." you're sure art has no idea what he's saying until he repeats himself, almost sounding like he's about to cry. you nod quickly, "y-yeah artie okay.. ill be your girlfriend.." now you swear he actually sobs, his hips making one last deep thrust before you feel him fill you up, the sensation sending you over the edge right after him.

art stays inside of you for a minute, dating his breath before pulling out, grabbing a tissue and helping you clean up. when you open your eyes, arts looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. "um.. did you mean what you said?" he asks quietly, his head bowing down quickly, as if he didn't want to see your reaction. you think back to your agreement, sure it was in the heat of the moment, but would it really be such a bad idea to say yes? you pause, and arts head droops even lower, expecting the worst. "art you know ive purposely been keeping this casual.. but i.. i trust you now artie, i do want this to be serious" you reach out for his hand, squeezing it gently. arts face lights up like a kid getting the one present they wanted for christmas as he quickly hugs you. "thank you.. thanks, you won't regret it i swear" you smile, pulling the blankets over the both of you, snuggling into arts chest as you admire the beautiful rays of moonlight streaming into your bedroom.

art is easily entranced by the quick movements of your fingers as you roll a joint, it sounds silly but he's always admired the fact that you didn't buy pre-rolls, preferring to be more independent. you lick the paper to get it to stick shut (and art is grateful you were too focused on that to see the way his eyes widened when you did) and root around your drawer for your lighter, a stupid pink one decorated with hello kitty that you got for your birthday. art couldn't help but find it endearing, the way you were so independent and "too cool" for a real relationship, but you still kept all the things that people gave to you, even if they weren't to your taste. the click of your lighter snapped art out of his observations, the light from the tiny flame illuminating your face in a way that made art want to take a picture, the fluttering flame casting an orange glow onto your skin. the strong smell of the joint caused art to become a little lightheaded even though he hasn’t even taken a hit yet, his fingers grabbing the joint from you after a couple failed tries that make you laugh, the soft giggles a soundtrack for the night.

#parkerluvsu #parker.talks #challengers x reader #art donaldson #challengers 2024 #challengers #art donaldson x reader #challengers smut #art donaldson smut

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aurumalatus · 3 days

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𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝟏

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), reposted for formatting lol

summary. a series of random headcanons from the universe! part 1 of many because i have lots of thoughts about these two

author's note. feel free to come scream about some more headcanons with me <3 enjoy!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

kinich and the princess have known about each other for a long time, but it’s only recently that they’ve really talked a lot and become close (since kinich became your guard)

kinich is a bit more open in this universe because although he grew up an orphan, he was recruited into the guard earlier and taken care of by his fellow trainees and the castle staff. he’s still pretty serious and deadpan at his core but he has a bit of silly in him too

the maids especially used to dote on him a lot. they would coo about how beautiful his eyes are and sneak him cakes and sweets from the kitchen

kinich and the princess actually had one key interaction when they were children that she doesn’t remember

the princess came down with a bad illness and had to stay in her room for about a week. kinich was assigned guard right outside her room, but she never saw him. still, they used to talk a lot during that week through her door, and she never quite figured out who her temporary friend was.

princess used to be *very* spoiled and she knows this. kinich is one of the only people who knocks her down a peg, and he also taught her how to do a lot of practical things (i.e. cleaning, cooking, weaving)

kinich takes his shirt off by grabbing the back of his collar and pulling it over his head (idk if i’m describing this well, but the image in my head is INSANE).

once they actually get together, kinich is the type to kiss the princess’s tears away when she cries (i’m going to scream)

kinich secretly has always known he loved the princess in some capacity, maybe since the day he was inducted as her guard (he looked up into her eyes, knelt before her, and felt something burst in his chest). he doesn’t feel like he deserves her love in return and feels so committed to his duty that he won’t do anything about it.

kinich isn’t afraid of dying, but he’s afraid of leaving the princess alone. it’s the reason why he insists on teaching her so many practical things like fighting—he doesn’t trust anyone else to protect her like he can.

there’s a yearly tournament among the guards (and any citizens that want to enter) that is held to win the royals’ favor. kinich is required to participate due to his position, but he tries a lot harder than he lets on—something about letting another guard win kind of irritates him. he wins your ribbon as a prize, a sign of your personal favor, and keeps it on him at all times. he claims it’s just to prove that you owe him.

kinich is a TERROR in the capital marketplace. sellers love him and hate him—he’s fair, but he barters like HELL. you, on the other hand, are any easy target. you will pay pretty much any price they name, and this irritates kinich greatly.

kinich is in charge of training newer recruits to the guard, and older members will warn them not to mention the princess in front of him. last time someone said something disrespectful about her, kinich had them running laps until the sun came up.

most mornings, kinich trains at sunrise. the princess will come out to join him sometimes, either to just lay down in the grass and talk, or to bring out a picnic

many princesses from other nations are attracted to kinich, but he does not return the sentiment—whenever one tries to talk to him, he acts extremely dry and boring on purpose until they lose interest.

kinich has a lot of piercings, but they're not always optimal to fight in—on days when he expects a battle, he wears a pair of studs that the princess gifted him

the castle maids have a running bet on how long it will take you and kinich to get married. sometimes they try to push it along by telling kinich you're looking for him when you aren't, just to pull the two of you together. the pot is over one million Mora, and at some point, the queen joins as well.

#genshin impact x reader #kinich x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x you #genshin impact imagines #pixelprincess!au #adeptus ink

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jaeyunwon · 1 day

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TRY AND RUN. chapter 1

pairing: yandere! sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: everyone saw you and your husband, sunghoon, as the perfect couple. But there's just something very wrong about him and you're not gonna stop till you find out.

you suffer from paraplegia (paralyzed from the hips till down), you find out that your husband is more than what he says he is.

w.c: 3.8k+

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut, (mdni), fluff, mention of killing someone, drinking, stalking?, hoon and reader are very much in love and it shows.

a/n: honestly this has been in my drafts for too long but I've been busy with clg I'm sorry for the wait. btw for the story to make sense, since she's paralyzed it'll only be her legs not her hips and yk.. and it's just a fictional story so of course not everything is real especially in how I'm writing the readers condition (pls don't come at me-)

try and run masterlist

smut warning under cut!!

warnings: smut, (mdni), mention of sex, nipple sucking, mention of masturbating in the shower, pussy slapping, dirty talk, edging, fingering, marking, possessive sunghoon, my first time writing smut!!! 18+ mdni

☆

The light of the morning sun seeped through the kitchen windows, as the sound of eggs sizzling in the pan can be heard throughout the kitchen walls, once you turned off the stove and put the eggs and bacon in plates you were about to turn around with your wheelchair but was abruptly stopped when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

your head quickly turns around since you heard no noise of anyone being awake other than you. But your worries faded as soon as you saw the face of your husband, sunghoon, standing before you.

giving him a small smile sigh "you almost scared me to death.” he giggled at your reply giving you a kiss on your check “I'm sorry darling, didn't mean to.”

He helped you set up the breakfast on the table and you both sat down to eat, “so, what do you want to do today?” He started which made you look up from your plate, swallowing before replying “don't you have work today?”

“I can take some time off just for you.” he smirked as he took a bite of his breakfast, “really? Then maybe we can go to the beach! The weather seems lovely today.” He smiled at your enthusiasm.

“Anything for my pretty girl.” it's not that sunghoon doesn't take you out, in fact he tries to take you out every week but he's been very busy lately that you both have spent the whole week at home whenever he comes back from work.

You both went back to eating in silence, it wasn't awkward. It could never be awkward when you're with sunghoon.

When you were both done you were about to take the plates and put them in the sink but sunghoon beat you to that “I'll do the dishes, you should've woke me up to help you with breakfast too.”

“You looked so peaceful while sleeping I couldn't bring myself to wake you up.” You chuckled remembering how you were admiring how he looked while sleeping. “you're too nice, why can't you just leave these things for me, I hate making you do anything when I'm available.”

Sunghoon said while moving towards you, holding your chin up to make you look at him, as your eyes met his you almost felt like you were at a loss of words, his beauty was unbelievable.

And you can't believe it's all yours to admire, you sometimes wonder how you and sunghoon even ended up together. He could do so much better than someone who can't even walk on their legs, and with his looks you're sure he can get any woman out there.

Even though your husband made sure to always tell you how much your legs were beautiful it still was your biggest insecurity. Was he even content with the life he's living right now, stuck with someone who's a liability—

Before you could go on with the negative thoughts, you felt sunghoon's lips right on yours pulling you back into reality, you threw your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you as you lost yourself in his soft lips.

And before it can escalate into anything sunghoon pulled away slowly from you, the kiss wasn't long, it was short but sweet enough to make your heart feel like it stopped.

“What were you thinking about, pretty.” He said while his hand slid up to rub your cheeks “nothing..” you mumbled as you smiled softly at him

He started kissing your neck as his soft yet strong hands made their way to palm your breasts “nothing, really?” looking up at you as his hands palmed your breasts through your shirt “hoon..” you whispered as the touch surprised you, feeling the blood rush in your body.

His hands slowly went under your shirt, trying to remove your bra as he cupped your breasts in his big palms, you arched your back a bit whining at the sudden coldness of his hands on your nipples.

He pulled back and removed your shirt quickly while his lips immediately made their way to your breasts, as he licked and sucked on your nipples, trying to give both your bossoms the same attention while his hands kept going down until they reached your thighs.

He left your nipple with a pop coming from his mouth after feeling satisfied and started sucking on your neck again, trying to leave his marks as much as he could. sunghoon has always been the clingy and touchy type, a minute doesn't go by where he doesn't at least have one of his hands on you.

You quickly held his hands as you tried squirming away “stay still.”

“hoon, not now. it's too early” you whined, removing his hands away from you “it's never too early to want to eat you out.” You felt him smirk against your neck as you hit him jokingly on his head “oh god, don't say stuff like that so early in the morning.” You sighed as you heared him chuckle.

“Well someone needs to help me with this problem.” He brought your hands near his already hard boner, you rolled your eyes at him before replying in a non amused tone “the shower exists.”

“Come on, you're not gonna let me jerk off when you're right here, are you?” the option of strangling him right now didn't feel like such a bad idea right now “sunghoon! I said don't say stuff like that in the morning.”

You heard him laugh before he helped you with your shirt and then he made his way to the counter, turning on the kettle to make you chamomile tea as he started washing the dishes.

Once he was done with the dishes, you drank your tea and took all the medicines you needed for the day, sunghoon took you back to the room to get ready.

Once you got to the room, he stole a kiss before you felt his arms behind your back and knees, as he carried you to the bathroom.

You took a shower while he did whatever it was while waiting for you to finish, this has always been your morning routine. You got out of the shower while he got you some undergarments “what would you like to wear today?” he said while searching in your closet.

Once he found the dress he was looking for he turned back just to find you in your bra and panties already “how about this dress, it would look perfect on you.” It was a summer dress, it was blue in color and had tiny flowers scattered at the end. The dress reaches till your knees which seems perfect with the warm weather outside.

Sunghoon always had a good fashion sense and you never judged his taste in clothes. As he helped you put on the dress, he left you alone to go get ready as you started brushing your hair and putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you both were done he helped you get down the stairs through the stair climber, and you both made your way to the front door, ready to go to the car while sunghoon went back to get his car keys from the bedroom. You and sunghoon lived a bit far away from the city, there isn't a neighborhood around you other than the elderly couple and their dog which they live right on the other side of your house.

They're sweet when they want to be but they're also very rude, especially their German shepherd dog which you're very scared of as you once saw him chase a cat and in the end rip it in half.

you tried not getting near him but, The Kangs, your neighbors, seem to let him lose in the morning and maybe he likes hanging around your house because every morning he is there, almost like he's waiting for you to come out just to see the terrified look on your face.

You've tried talking to the kangs about it but it's only useless when you see him the next morning right outside, and that's exactly the same exact thing you're looking at right now. The German shepherd is right outside your door, staring at you with his blood shot eyes like he's trying to tell you to run before he rips you to pieces.

as you started going backwards using your wheelchair,you felt like screaming but you knew this would only make things worse. You kept going back until you felt your wheelchair bump into something, or more like someone. You looked behind you just to see your husband standing there, glaring at the dog.

He didn't waste a second before he took one of the many umbrellas next to the door, and started threatening the dog, as you saw the dog run away you finally let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt sunghoon's hand engulf yours as he got down on his knees “are you okay, love? You're shaking.” You looked at your hands just to see your hands shaking a bit.

“Yeah I'm fine, you know how it goes with that dog around.” You said as you smiled at sunghoon to make him less worried, “you know I can always threaten the neighbors into getting rid of their dog, if they can't tame him then they might as well just get rid of him. He's been getting on my nerves lately.”

“thank you.. but no it's just a dog, I need to get over my fear of him anyways.”

“I'll make sure to talk to them again about keeping the dog away from our house.”

“Thank you hoon. Really, I appreciate it.”

He smiled at your reply as he began to make his way to the car, he helped you get in and then made his way to the driver seat, and you both set off to the beach.

You felt the sun caress your skin, it wasn't too hot but also not too cold, the weather was perfect for a walk especially with the sight of the beach around.

At the end of your walk sunghoon suddenly stops walking as you saw him roll the hem of his pants and take his socks off, once he looked at you, you tilted your head to the side looking confused but he only smiled at you before he lifted you up bridal style and started walking towards the water.

“hey! What are you doing!” he giggled at your confusion before he felt the water engulf his feet, he dipped you down, your hand reaching for the water, feeling the temperature of it. It was warm and calming against your hand.

You felt the wind breeze at both your figures as you smiled, watching the sun set, you felt relaxed.

“Wanna go back home now?” he asked, as you nodded. He started walking back while giving you small kisses on your face, moments like these made you feel like everything was okay, that there was nothing wrong. He made you feel special, like everyone in the world doesn't exist and it's only him and you.

“I'm so lucky to have you.” He would always make sure you know that you're the blessing in his life, not like it's the other way around. And you wished, hoped, and prayed that in every life, sunghoon would be there, with you.

But you should've known earlier, that all of this… was too good to be true.

sunghoon came out of the car while making his way into the private club, the lights of the club reflecting into him as he made his way to the VIP section, he kept walking until he stopped In front of a table with two guys occupying it.

“Did you finish what I asked you to do?”

“Yup and we left the body as it is, just like you asked.” Jay, sunghoon's workmate, said as he saw sunghoon smile a bit before taking a seat “He was very annoying though, I hate it when they scream and beg a lot.” Heeseung, sunghoon's other workmate, added with a roll in his eyes.

“He should've kept his eyes in check then, checking out my wife when I was right next to her and thinking he would get away with it.” He laughed before he continued “it won't be long before his body is found by the police, you didn't leave anything behind, right?” He relaxed into his seat as he took a sip from the drink that was ordered before he showed up.

“Don't worry, we've taken care of everything.” Heeseung said while taking the shot in front of him and chugging it down feeling it go down his throat finally letting loose.

Sunghoon didn't like lying to you, but there were some things that were better kept as a secret than you having to know, for example, his whole life. You didn't need to know that he worked under an organization, you only knew that he has a normal job, working for a normal company, as a normal office worker.

You didn't need to know that the food you're eating, the clothes you're wearing, the house bills, everything that's getting paid for is from money gotten from killing people as a job.

You just finished making dinner, washing the dishes you used as you waited for sunghoon to get back from work.

wiping your wet hands on the towel you suddenly felt someone's hands on your shoulders as you yelped and turned your head around just to see it was your husband.

You let out a sigh, feeling like you almost got a heart attack. Sunghoon was always slow footed when he got home, you smiled at him before you saw a bouquet of roses in front of you.

Your smile grows even more “thank you, you didn't have to.”

He was about to respond before you quickly pulled him closer to your lips, giving him a kiss to show your gratitude, and he reciprocated your eager kiss. But you pull back before it can turn into anything more, remembering that sunghoon must be hungry.

You both ate your dinner while sunghoon was telling you what he did through the day and you told him about your little activities while you were home alone before you decided to cook dinner.

You were too engrossed looking at the computer to notice your husband coming in with a mug of chamomile tea, he makes it for you every morning and every night “for you.” He said as he set the cup down on the desk, “thank you, hoonie.” He smiled before replying “what are you working on?”

“Nothing, just the usual editing you know.” you took a sip, humming at the taste and giving sunghoon a thumbs up.

Even though your legs weren't functioning, which meant the line of jobs you can choose from is sufficient, you decided to do a job that didn't need you to get out of your home. You usually edit people's writing, it isn't much but it's still something and you were very happy with it.

“Don't you think it's time to go to bed?” He said a chuckle following “I will! After I finish this.” Sunghoon frowned a bit trying to make you change your mind and get to bed earlier.

“How about finishing it tomorrow and spending the rest of the night with me… in bed..” you rolled your eyes knowing exactly what he's trying to say, you couldn't reply as you felt him pulling your body closer to his and smashing his lips into yours, his tongue clashing against yours, hands exploring your body as yours stayed on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly trying to keep up with the kiss.

His large hands stopped at your ass palming it through your clothes before he suddenly held you up, not breaking the heated kiss and making his way to the bed, he placed you down gently on the soft mattress before pulling away slowly from you.

his forehead right against yours as he stared into your eyes, “kiss me again, please.” You breathed, growing impatient already, and sunghoon didn't hesitate before pulling you closer to him again, feeling the soft muscle against his as you both needily kiss each other.

Your hands travel through his hair trying to pull him closer than he already is, as sunghoon's hands stay on your ass squeezing the soft blush, he quickly took off the nightgown you're wearing, while his lips trail down to your chin, leaving love bites on your neck and chest as you whimpered.

“hoon, don't leave too many marks. I can't cover all of them.” he chuckled “I don't regret leaving them on your body this morning, everyone needs to know that you're mine.”

You felt the possessiveness radiating off his whole body, “you're so possessive” you rolled your eyes “I'm just stating the truth, you're mine.”

“Am I really?”

He raised a brow, are you testing him right now? His big hands quickly removed the lace panties you had on, just for him, throwing it somewhere as his hand palmed your soaked pussy, letting out a small gasp at the sudden feeling.

“Don't test me, you know you're mine. No matter how many times you disagree, I'll be here to remind you who you belong to.”

you felt a shiver run through your body, his fingers stroking your outer lips, spreading your wetness around, and without a warning two of his fingers entered you, diving in too deep, stretching you out.

You arch your back, as you cry out for him, your thighs trembling, and your hands holding on tightly to the mattress. The sound of your soaked juices can be heard in the quiet room, feeling the tight knot in your stomach starting to form, ready to break any second, before you felt nothing.

You whined, his fingers leaving your tight hole as they traveled to his mouth for a taste “fuck you taste amazing, I'm so lucky to be the only one who gets to taste you, to see you like this, and to get to fuck you. No other man will ever be able to satisfy you like I do, right darling?”

Squirming, his words almost making your orgasm come back, he gets impatient when he gets no response from you, giving a small slap to your cunt as you cry out at the impact.

“I need words princess.” he breathed out almost cumming in his pants at the fucked out look you have on your face, panting as your chest is heaving up and down.

He gives another slap to your cunt, you try to squirm away from him, blinking away the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, which failed by the way, “yes! oh fuck only you hoon, I need only you please!”

Sunghoon groaned before his hands started working on his sweatpants, removing his pants and boxer all in one go, he quickly aligns himself to your hole, teasing your folds hearing you whine before he slowly entered the tip in.

His mouth making its way to your nipples to ease the pain, sunghoon was big, very big, no matter how many times he stretched you out it'll always feel like the first time.

He tugs at your bosoms, while fully entering your tight hole, he starts to thrust in at a slow pace as you arch your back, feeling the pain of the stretch but at the same time pleasure is making you lose your mind.

Once the pain subsided you couldn't hold back “hoonie please, faster!” and faster he went, tucking your legs up till they almost reach your shoulders.

This position probably hurts but you didn't really feel anything in your legs other than the pleasure coursing through your body.

He left your nipples with a pop as his thrusts slowed down a bit “you like it when I fuck you like this, pretty? Tell me how much you like it.” his hand went down to play with your clit.

Nothing comes out of you other than a whine, feeling frustrated that your orgasm has been delayed again. You felt his thrusts completely stop, holding your chin to face him as he groaned.

“I need words baby, or you won't get to cum tonight.” You can feel the tears going down your face, too annoyed and stimulated to be able to talk. You managed to get a word or two out, feeling like you will break any second now if you do speak.

“Yes, please! I- I need more, please.” He grinned hearing how your voice is shaking almost like he's trying to make fun of you. “What my pretty doll wants, she'll get.” He said as he thrusted his cock fully in, holding tightly to the bed covers that your knuckles are turning white from the tight grip, screaming at his big cock being inside you.

The feeling of his tip touching your cervix is making you crazy, his fast thrusts are making you lose your mind, the feeling of your orgasm coming back “I'm gonna— fuck cum, I'm gonna cum oh fuck”.

His pace went faster and the need to cum with you at the same time as he groaned “yeah baby, cum for me. Make a mess in my cock and milk me dry.” He said in between heavy breaths, and once he gave you the green light, the knot in your stomach finally snapped.

He kept going helping you throughout your orgasm as he filled you up, groaning while holding you tight. You both sat in silence. The only sound in the room was the sound of the heavy breaths and sighs you both let out, still in the heat of the moment.

When sunghoon recovered, he looked straight into your eyes before muttering “I love you.” he rolled off to his side of the bed bringing you closer to his body.

You smiled at his words, the sunghoon you saw a min ago is not the same sunghoon you're seeing now. And it always surprises you with how much he can change when he's in bed.

“I love you too hoonie, always and forever.”

You didn't hear a response as you felt sunghoon's chest go up and down and soft sound of his snores, he's sound asleep, you closed the small lamp beside your bed, ready to go to sleep.

Once you closed your eyes, trying to get to the land of dreams, you felt a white light blind your eyes, like some kind of camera flash, you opened your eyes confused on what that was, but also too tired to investigate where it came from.

You found nothing in the dark, and were about to close your eyes again before you saw the white light coming from the window. your neighbors house? But the light seemed very close to the window to be from the neighbors house. And Before you could press on the matter any longer you felt yourself succumb to the tiredness.

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innorogers · 2 days

Text

Nightmare

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve stood in front of the mirror, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was still a world beyond your home, and he had to face it.

Warning: Minors DNI / A little smut / bj / Angst / Hydra Past / Missunderstandings / He wants to say I love you / This is getting dark as the WB logos in HP movies / Strugglings / He is so in love with you / Your past is coming back and kick your both asses

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: You don't have to read the previous chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid | Chapter 3: Reverie

“God…!” Steve's head falls back, his body arching, knuckles turning white as he holds on tightly onto the sheets, moans ragged and labored, his chest rising and falling covered in sweat.

His hand tucking your hair, trying to be as gentle as possible, but he is finding that impossible. As you fasten your mouth and hand movements, more deep breaths are escaping his lips as waves of pleasure wash over him.

"Babe... that feels so good... don't stop... Please don't stop..."

Your quickened pace is driving him more and more over the edge, as suddenly his entire body lost in pleasure, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him, the sheets gripping tightly in his hands as he releases warm and low in your mouth.

“Jesus…” His body shuddering as he came hard, thoroughly quenched til the very last drop, his breath coming in gasps and pants, not being able to speak as he looks at you: puffy lips, disheveled hair, sweat drops in your perfect breasts, your silky skin marked with his handprints all over body, and you were wiping your lips.

“Damn...” He pulls you close for a kiss, still breathing heavily, as if trying to recover from his ecstasy. “Babe, don’t… look at me like that… or I’m gonna lose it... again.”

“Wait, what?” You laugh, stepping out of bed. “That’s on me?! I didn’t do anything this time.” You were barely awake when he started. It’s not like it’s your fault you weren’t wearing anything from last night.

“That’s... arguable.” Steve murmurs, sinking back into the pillows, still riding the high of the moment. His breathing starts to slow, but then he notices you’re already in the bathroom. “Wait, no cuddling?!”

“We’ve been ‘cuddling’ all night!” You call from the shower. “And... we’ve talked about this. Tony is gonna be here in an hour.” And I don’t want to smell like sex.

Steve chuckles in resignation, raising his voice so you can hear him over the water. “Can I join you?”

“We both know how that’s gonna end…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright...” he laughs, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed, grabs his discarded clothes, making a half-hearted attempt to tidy the room. “God, we made a mess in here, didn’t we?”

By the time you’re out of the shower, the room is already cleaned up (he's done his best). It’s a far cry from how things used to be: Steve's things are everywhere now. His toothbrush in your bathroom, clothes hanging in your closet, some files scattered on the desk in your lab that's across from your private dorm.

You’re not even sure when it happened, but your secluded, tucked away 20 minutes from the main Avengers compound lab, has become more than just yours. It makes sense, actually, he wasn’t leaving at night. Or in the mornings. Or... really, ever.

At first, Steve would come over for dates. Then those dates turned into 'I'll come by later' and eventually into 'whenever he had the chance.' Now his mug is in the sink, his slippers are under your bed, and his coat has claimed a permanent spot by the door.

He’s here. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha started coming by too.

They didn’t want to at first—especially after Tony warned them: Don’t go near the place if the windows are foggy or steamed. And the first time they showed up, the windows were, in fact, foggy.

So, they waited outside, feeding the mosquitoes and staring at the overgrown grass.

But they had important “For your eyes only” files, and waiting beat facing Commander Hill’s irritation later. After counting all the daisies in the field—twice—they finally gave in. Sam knocked (covering his eyes), you answered (fully dressed), and they came in for a cup of tea. A carrot cake later, they became regulars.

Your lab has a charm they can’t resist: plants hang from every corner, spilling over shelves and framing the windows that let in the golden sunlight. The warm, earthy scent of the greenery mixes with the subtle perfume from your humidifiers. A soft glow of the sunlight filters through, casting a golden hue over everything. The kitchen always smells like freshly baked cookies, and the tea is good, but the coffee is great.

Your space feels like a hidden sanctuary in the sunset. And amidst all this, there’s a relaxed and laughing, perfectly at home Steve. One that they’ve never seen before.

So of course, big boss Mr. Stark wasn’t going to be excluded.

“Remind me again why he’s coming?” Steve asked as he stepped into the shower. You were brushing your teeth, and he leaned over to kiss your shoulder, and…Yup, you were right; he knew exactly how things would’ve ended if he’d joined you earlier.

“I don’t know… there’s no meeting agenda. But technically, we are living in his compound, so…” you said, now brushing your hair and spritzing perfume. Then, after a pause, you added, “I think it has something to do with the New Era Project.”

Steve didn’t respond right away, but you caught the frown on his face through the steam of the shower. “Are you part of that?” he asked after a moment.

“Nope.” You began towel-drying your hair. “I don’t make or design weapons. I just fix your gear and armory and… sometimes I pitch cool new ideas to Tony during brainstorm sessions. You know, Level A clearance, remember?”

Steve chuckled—yeah, he remembered. You had access to all files and records, but only if Tony Stark himself granted it. Actually, he was the only one who could authorize your access and tokens. There were only two people in the entire organization with that kind of clearance: you and Peter Parker.

Your existence here was… special. Only level 3 and above tech personnel knew about you, and they practically worshiped you. You were the one who “optimized their code, fine-tuned algorithms that seemed impossible to crack, recalibrated testing protocols when simulations failed, and stepped in when machines were on the verge of catastrophic failure.” (That was Bruce’s wording. Steve didn't get shit of what he said, just referred to you as “my brilliant genius who fixes all that stuff.”) And the thing that stood out the most? You never took credit for the successes.

Selfless. That was the word Tony used when describing you. But he also said: “And that drives me nuts, because when you lack human ambition, what’s going to keep you around, right?”

Human ambition. The phrase echoed in Steve’s mind as he turned off the water with a sigh. He knew he had been avoiding the truth. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was more to you than he fully understood, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the whole truth.

“I’ll make coffee,” you called from outside, interrupting his thoughts. “You staying for breakfast, or heading straight to training?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay for coffee,” he replied, wrapping a towel around himself and standing in front of the mirror.

There, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. There was still a world beyond your lab, and he had to face it.

He sighed again, suspecting exactly what Tony was going to discuss with you.

The coffee was ready, and croissants were on the table when Tony arrived. He greeted you with a cheek kiss and smirked at Steve, who was just walking out the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

“There’s a scene I thought I’d never see.” Tony quipped as you placed a mug in front of him. “Aren’t you late, Cap?”

“Aren’t you early?” Steve shot back from the room.

“Actually, I’m late. I hung out in the car for a bit.” Tony tilted his head toward the window, a mocking grin spreading across his face. “The windows were steamed up, so I…” he clicked his tongue, “didn’t want to interrupt.”

He turned to you, smiling. “This coffee’s great, hon. Any chance you’d consider making it a regular thing in the common room?”

“No. She wouldn’t,” Steve answered, now dressed in his training gear. He kissed you goodbye, shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry babe, gotta go. Guess you were right, I am late.”

Tony shot him an I told you so look.

“Coffee.” you said, handing Steve a travel mug, then cupped his face with a smile. “Kiss.”

Inhaling your fresh perfume, Steve sighed, enchanted, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Thanks…” He held back the I love you that nearly escaped his lips.

“Get something to eat after training, okay?” you said casually, unaware of how close he was to confessing.

“Yes ma’am.” He gave you a lingering glance, clearly wanting another kiss—or a few—before turning to Tony. “Easy, ok?” he warned.

“You hear that, hon? Easy on me,” Tony said with a grin, raising his mug to wave Steve off. “See you later, Cap.”

As the door closed behind Steve, Tony looked at you, “You know… that’s the best I’ve seen him in years.” He mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug.

Then, after a brief pause, with a playful smile. “And the best I’ve seen of you, of course.”

You smiled back. “It’s not like you’ve been around much to see me anyway.” You patted his hand.

“Not that I’m complaining. You’ve given me all the quiet and peace I could ever ask for.” You glanced down at the table with a soft smile. “And purpose.”

Tony stayed silent as the golden morning light filtered through the windows, casting lines of warmth and shadow across the table.

“Did you… tell him?” he asked, hesitating just as the light reached his mug.

“No. I, um…” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m scared.”

“God,” he sighed in resignation. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. And…” he shook his head, rolling his eyes, “I think his problem will eventually be, ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’”

He huffed. “It’s your call, but trust me—he always wants to know the truth, no matter how hard it might be.”

“I know. It’s just…” You admitted quietly, “I’m scared of him being… disappointed.”

“Then he can fuck off,” Tony shot back without hesitation, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And die alone on his moral highlands.”

You laughed. Tony always knew how to make you laugh. After a few moments, you softened and asked, “What’s wrong, Tony? What’s really troubling you?”

“You mean besides the fact that one of my top-secret employees, whom I’ve kept hidden from everyone’s sight for years, is actually dating… I mean, no, we’re way past dating, right? I’d say… in a relationship with one of the most famous men in the world, who’s also the high commander of this… you know, little group of heroes that saves the universe from time to time? Yeah, there’s actually one tiny, tiny thing that keeps me awake at night…”

You sipped your coffee, still smiling. “What?”

“I’m having second thoughts about the New Era Project.”

You raised your eyebrows, and asked after some pause. “Do you want me to join?” Because you would, if he asked.

“No.” He was firm. “No, it’s not that. I’d never ask you to do that. It’s just… I’m having trouble piecing everything together. I don’t have the full picture. ” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“The UN have been a pain in my ass since I flew out in a can suit in Afghanistan, but now… they’re... They’re being… nice.”

“And that’s a bad thing.” You raised an eyebrow, not sure whether you were asking or confirming.

“It’s incredibly dangerous and extremely suspicious.”

“I thought our little demonstration of power during Thanos would’ve made everyone play nice,” you said, grimacing as if to say, Duh.

“They even offered to cancel the Sokovian Accords.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked, surprised. “Is that even still a thing? I thought after the Blip…”

“Nobody had the time or the mood to talk about that during the Snap, so it just stayed there.” Tony explained, handing you his mug as you stood up to refill it.

“Well, that’s a generous offer,” you said, pouring more coffee. “But as you said…”

You paused, thinking for a moment.

“If rationality and facts can’t give you the full picture, maybe intuition will.” You sat back down, placing the mug in front of Tony. “What does your gut tell you? Animal instincts in the face of danger are 99% accurate, you know.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I don’t know. That’s what’s keeping me up at night. We’ve faced big threats before, but this... this feels different. Like they’re not reacting to a threat, but preparing for one.”

“Patience.” you murmured.

“Say what?” Tony hadn’t caught it.

“The Art of War,” you recalled. “‘He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.’” You nodded. “So if the picture isn’t clear, you wait for them to make the first move.”

That look crossed Tony’s face—the one he wore when you or Bruce finished a thought before him, or when you completed a task well before the deadline with an unexpected approach. The “finally, someone speaking my language” look.

“They’ve already made the first move, haven’t they?” you observed him closely.

Tony sat up, a slight smile of pride tugging at his lips. “Yes. They’re sending someone to… cooperate.”

“So… how do I fit into all this?” you asked quietly. “Strategies of war, deciphering enemy intentions, gathering intel, hacking systems… you’ve got quite a team for that. The Team. How can I help?”

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair as the sunlight shifted, casting shadows across the room. He paused, staring out the window before turning back to you, something close to worry in his eyes for the first time.

“You fit in because you’re one of the few people I trust to see things clearly. No agenda. No ego. You can do things quietly, behind the scenes. And, frankly, you’re smarter than half the people working on this project…” He hesitated and added with a smirk, “...or the entire compound.”

After a brief pause, Tony confessed in a giving up tone.

“And because I need your superpowers to sense if this guy is hiding something—something that our metal detectors and scanners can’t catch. These days, I don’t even trust that the people we meet are… well, human. Thanks to Danvers.”

Just like at the opening ceremony, he needed you to assess if there was anything suspicious about the people present. You nodded in understanding.

“Who are they sending?”

There were two files in front of him, both giving him the same headache. And Steve didn’t wanted to start with either of them.

One was yours: HE0012, “Twelve.” Your code name—Hydra Experiment Number Twelve—and your real name, (If Twelve could even considered a name, but that was they’d given to you) both stamped on a complete profile folder of your classified information: layers upon layers of secrecy wrapped around your past, barely considered something near light reading.

The second file, labeled “FYEO - New Era Project” was a brick of a report, hundreds of pages long, more of a book than a document. It detailed, in excruciating pain-ass precision, the project's goal: a forced reconciliation between the Avengers and Stark Industries. The initiative was meant to foster collaborative research and development of cutting-edge technologies designed to bolster global defense systems.

Officially, the report framed it as ensuring global protection “in case of need,” but Steve knew the truth beneath the diplomatic phrasing. It was about weapons—gear, tools, anything needed to combat the next alien invasion, or any kind of catastrophic threat Earth might face.

Steve remembered Tony’s struggle with this report, how the stress weighed on him. Tony had been stuck between igniting another Civil War or throwing the damn thing in the nearest firepit.

But seems now, that Tony had done what Tony does best: handed the problem to Steve.

Damn it, Tony.

“Captain.” Jarvis’s polite voice sounded through the nearest screen. “A guest has just entered the main building. Agent Charles Frazer from the New Era Special Committee has been announced.”

Steve sighed, shoving both files aside. He couldn’t even catch a break. “Background?” He asked as he glanced at the screen, pulling up Frazer’s information.

“Agent Frazer is currently serving with the UN Special Commission, previously tasked with supervising enhanced human activities under the Sokovian Accords. Before that, he was a top agent at MI6.” Jarvis relayed in his usual, steady tone.

“Great. I’ll meet him in the lobby. Where’s Tony?”

“Sir is en route from R&D 001 and will arrive in three and a half minutes. Agent Frazer is already in the lobby, Captain.”

“Fine.” Steve muttered, standing up. “Also ask Commander Hill to meet us there.”

From the second-floor glass railing, Steve looked down and spotted Frazer standing in the waiting area. The man was definitely an agent, but his military background was obvious in the way he stood—rigid, alert, scanning the room, it all pointed to someone used to being on guard, despite his polite, diplomatic smile and the small nods he gave to passing staff.

After a moment of observation, Steve made his way downstairs before Frazer could notice he was being watched.

“Agent.” Steve greeted, extending a firm hand.

“Captain.” Charles Frazer responded with a wide, courteous smile. One that appeared genuine but not intrusive. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Steve was about to continue when Tony, Bruce, and you entered the room, caught up in a heated conversation.

“…so wait, are you telling me the material adapted in real-time? Enhanced its resistance with every applied force threshold—like it learned from the stress points?” Bruce’s voice was filled with astonished excitement.

“Yeah, we saw a 32% increase in tensile strength under standard shear stress.” You replied softly, barely looking up from your coffee mug.

“What about quantum resonance feedback?” Tony waved a hand, pressing for more details. “Is it boosting absorption capabilities?”

“It’s actually forming a self-reinforcing lattice that distributes the force across the entire molecular framework, but…” You trailed off as you noticed Steve. A soft smile lit up your face, your eyes brightening upon seeing him.

Steve, for a split second, returned the smile but quickly recovered his professional demeanor. “Dr. Lancaster,” he greeted you, then nodded to the others. “Tony, Bruce—this is Agent…”

A loud crash cut him off.

Steve whipped around to see you standing there, your face as pale as your lab coat. Your mug lay shattered on the floor, coffee splattered across your clothes, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your gaze was locked on Agent Frazer’s face, your breath frozen, your body completely still.

“…Four?” The word barely escaped your lips, a whisper under the weight of everyone’s surprise.

Agent Frazer’s reaction was almost identical.

His confident smile vanished in an instant—from confusion, to shock, and then to an almost frozen state mirroring yours, his eyes reflected the same haunting familiarity. It wasn’t just shock; it was a mix of fear, disbelief, and perhaps even something darker—like a flood of old memories being unlocked all at once.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other in stunned silence. Slowly, Frazer’s gaze locked onto yours, and recognition began to settle over his face. He slowly lifted a trembling hand toward your chin, his voice cracking as he murmured, “Twelve?”

“How…?”

“Let’s take this to a more private room.” Tony, ever the first to break the silence, said firmly even before you could go on. His eyes weren’t on you—they were glued to Steve, gauging his reaction.

Steve stood rigid, his jaw was set, his face unreadable as he observed the silent exchange between you and Frazer.

“Yes, let’s do that.” Steve said, his voice firm but soft. A few people in the background had started to notice the unusual scene unfolding and were beginning to glance your way. So it was to act quickly. He stepped closer to you, a part of him instinctively wanting to put a hand on your shoulder, or hold your hand to offer some comfort in the midst of the shock, but he hesitated. His hand hovered for a second before he drew it back.

As the group moved to a quieter, more secluded room, the air was thick with unspoken questions, and no one dared to break the fragile silence. All eyes were on you and Agent Frazer, as though the past had suddenly come crashing into the present, and no one was sure how to navigate the ruins.

You met with Commander Hill in the middle of the hallway. She quickly noted the tension in the unusual group, scanning Agent Frazer as fast as she could with her x-ray inspection mode and cautious glare.

“Is… everything okay?” She instantly reacted, reading the room. “Meeting 9 is available.” She looked at Steve and Tony and communicated in their own silent way: And it’s ready.

Ready meant that the room could provide total privacy while also functioning as the most advanced interrogation room. Everything would be recorded, with real-time facial expression analysis by Friday or Jarvis. The room’s ambiance would shift according to participants' moods, creating the most relaxing and comforting environment possible, encouraging the participants to say anything and everything that needed to be known.

But of course, you didn’t know that, and neither did Agent Frazer— or Four. You hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, so you barely heard Tony when he said, “We’ll just leave you to it,” or noticed the worried look Steve had given you. You didn’t look back; your eyes remained locked on Four’s.

“How…” You broke the silence after a long pause, sensing that both your breaths had softened. You began to regain some rationality and composure. “How did you escape? I… I thought you were dead…”

Four closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay as calm as possible.

He didn’t know where to start with.

“I was…”

He didn’t look at you; his gaze was fixed on the floor, lost in some distant moment from the past.

“The cryostasis pod that held me…malfunctioned, but instead of shutting down, it went into some sort of low-energy survival mode—almost like it was trying to protect me. Left me hanging on the edge of life, just the basics kept intact.”

His accent was you remembered, a perfect blend of British and Russian, a strange yet polished combination of both. He talked as in Times New Roman.

“I reckon I stayed that way for years… like being stuck in some frozen limbo. Like wandering in some desert between hell and heaven.”

Four’s lips curled into a fragile, ironic smile: “That Hydra fortress in Caithness was too well-hidden. I’d have gone unnoticed until I wasted away, but when Hydra fell, every strategic spot on the globe became suspicious. British intel ran sweeps over the area… and they found me.”

You remained silent, memories flashing through your mind. You knew why the cryostasis pod had malfunctioned in the first place.

After the Battle of New York, the remaining Hydra forces had started shutting down their less critical underground fortresses. Caithness, where Four was held, had probably been vital during the war, but your files were far too confidential, buried too deep to be easily retrieved. That place must have been overlooked as obsolete.

Then came the Battle in Washington, when Steve crushed Hydra for good, and Black Widow exposed Hydra’s files, Caithness would have landed on British radar.

The world had been holding its breath, watching the Avengers’ actions since New York.

It wouldn’t surprise you if British intelligence wanted to keep Four for their own research—a super soldier hidden, repaired, filled with selective truths, and molded into a loyal agent. Their own secret Avenger, integrated into their best special forces.

“They kept your memory?” you asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Bits of it.” Four replied, offering a smile, sensing your concern. He wanted to ease the pain of what he’d gone through during his rebirth. “Britain’s tech wasn’t as advanced as Hydra’s.”

He glanced around and sighed. “And they were definitely far away from… this. They didn’t push it too far, just in case it might… break me and ruin everything.”

“Do you remember… everything?” you asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“Not everything. Just pieces, fragments. Sometimes I get flashbacks in my dreams…” Four’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a faint smile touching his lips, his voice tender with nostalgia.

“You were a brilliant tree climber... I remember that odd old oak tree deep in the forest. Grand and ancient. You’d scramble up to the top branches and shake them until the leaves fell, making a pile on the ground. Then Five and Seven would dash over and dive in, like a pair of foxes.”

“And once, you hid a rock under the leaves, and Seven jumped right onto it…” You were lost in the memory too.

“He hit it so hard…” Four chuckled, his gaze drifting to that long-lost time.

“We did everything to stop the bleeding before heading back, but he looked like…”

“A smashed tomato can.” You both said at the same time. And then you both laughed.

“I was grounded, of course. Bloody big time.” Four leaned back in his chair. “Six days of detention because, naturally, our blood was ‘precious,’ and Seven’s was everywhere. They had to clean up so thoroughly, it was like they burned the place down.”

“And you came by on the fifth night…” Four’s went gentle, as if telling a bedtime story. “You snuck in and gave me a piece of bread. And a golden leaf.”

He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m so glad to see you, little sister.” His voice was filled with pain.

“When I woke up… I thought I was alone in this world.”

“Me too.” You whispered, though your eyes were elsewhere, lost in the shadows of the past.

“Me too…”

Steve could feel his teeth clenching. He tried desperately to release the pressure building in his fists, but the anger was overwhelming.

He suddenly understood why he hadn’t been able to even open your file before—it was fear. He didn’t want to feel this powerless, like he does now, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what you’d been through.

Tony might have made a joke, something like, “Well, at least he’s only her brother.” but Steve could sense the tension in his voice.

“This is so…” Fucked up. Sam stood beside Steve, watching closely. “Any lie detected?”

“Facial analysis shows 99% veracity. The 1% is due to human factors beyond my calculations.” Friday’s voice echoed through the room.

“If the story’s true, it’s not impossible,” Natasha chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “When the files went public, someone must have taken action.”

“It just smells like there’s a cat hidden in the closet, y’all know?” Sam muttered, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Like, really? Now? The agent overseeing all this Sokovia Accords 2.0 stuff just so happens to be ex-Hydra, ex-experiment, and he shows up now? Like literally walking right to her. Now? When she’s…” He gestured pointedly. “With Steve? Why not before?”

“Maybe he was gone during the Blip?” Natasha suggested. “Look, I’m just trying to figure this out. Not saying the guy’s a saint, but…”

She glanced at Steve, who had turned into some kind of statue, staring at the screen, trying to read your every move, every reaction.

“We do have ex-Hydras doing just fine…” Bucky is one. You are one. Natasha didn’t say it, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet clear.

“Alright, first things first.” Maria stepped in, standing next to Steve. “What do we do with this guy? He’s still carrying the UN Special title, and…” She pulled up his file. “One thing’s for sure—his records are impeccable. At least on paper.”

Steve didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where you were holding hands with Four. It wasn’t romantic, he could tell. You were pressing his hand, patting his back. You looked relaxed. The painful part of remembering was over, and now you were chatting about his life after MI6 gave him a new identity.

And you were smiling. You tilted your head slightly, something you always did when listening intently.

“Tony.” Steve suddenly spoke up, his voice low but steady. “Why are you so quiet?”

Steve hadn’t raised his voice, but the room instantly turned to Iron Man.

“Maybe I have nothing to say.”

“Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to know the answer.” Steve shot back, his tone sharper now. He didn’t say it aloud, but Tony knew. He knew exactly why Steve was looking at him like that.

But as always, Tony didn’t flinch under Steve’s scrutinizing glare, nor did he step back.

“I think Dr. Lancaster is just the perfect person for this job.” Tony said, quietly but with precision, locking eyes with Steve.

“Fuck! Tony!” Steve’s fists slammed down on the desk so hard that everything on it bounced. “She’s out of the New Era Project.” he said, gritting his teeth.

“She’s Level A.” Tony stepped closer, meeting Steve’s gaze up close.

“And she happens to be top of R&D. Yes, I asked her to be here this morning, to check on this guy… just like she’s been doing since day one when she entered this compound.”

“So yeah, she can show him around, talk about super-intelligent things that normal people won’t understand, as long as it fits within the clearance I’ve given her. It’s not like I’m ordering her to do anything.”

Tony leaned in even closer to Steve’s face. “You can stay and hang out if you want. But seriously… and this is me being brutally honest, like you’ve always wanted.” His voice was calm, firm, unwavering.

“Did you really think you could keep her out of this? Out of your life? Our life?”

He opened his arms slightly, giving Steve a knowing look. “Stop acting as your decisions are better than hers, Steve. She knew exactly what she was signing up for.”

“I’m honored, but my pressure it’s on its peaks.” Four muttered, walking beside you down the long aisle that led from “Sustainable Technologies & Environmental Innovation” to the “Space Exploration & Interstellar Travel Engineering” hall.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you caught the reflection in the sleek glass walls: a serious, determined, and ‘touch my girl by a hair and I’ll kill the fuck out of you’ Steve, and a ‘I have so much more important and real shit to deal with right now than this’ face Maria walking behind you.

“I mean I’m just a public employee. I expected both high commanders to receive me, but not to walk us all the way.” Four teased: “Remember when we had to escort the king during the war?”

“I thought that was the proudest day of your life.”

“It was, until this.” Four laughed, letting out a long, amused sigh after a pause. Then, more sincerely, “But you should be proud too, Twelve. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

Four’s gaze lifted, drawn to the towering structures and intricate technology around him—robotics designed to repair spacecraft mid-flight, drones engineered for planetary terraforming. His eyes followed the sleek contours of prototype exosuits encased behind glass, shimmering with the pulse of energy cores yet to be tested.

Even with all the cutting-edge tech he’d seen around the world, he couldn’t help but admire the scale of innovation unfolding here—the flawless precision, the harmony between form and function, and the dedication and sense of unity the folks around here were putting on their work.

“Everything here... it’s like stepping into the future.” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe. “Back in the day, we only dreamt of machines like this. Now it’s real. I can feel the intelligence in the air, the potential of what this place can do.”

He paused in front of an android prototype, its sensors lighting up as though acknowledging his presence.

“This is what happens when visionaries are free to play with the impossible. And you are part of it. You should be proud. It’s the realization of everything we once hoped for. ”

Steve and Maria exchanged a glance at his words, and Steve’s gaze immediately shifted to you. He was desperate for you to turn, to look at him the way you always did—like you understood him without a single word needing to be spoken. But since the moment you walked out of Room 9 with Four, your gaze hadn’t found his. Not once.

You stayed silent upon your brother’s words. Your gaze was still, serene, and silent. There was no emotion beyond that on your face. Your eyes rested lightly on Four's expressions, then moved softly to the equipment he was examining. You were as still as a pond on a windless day. And your eyes…Steve could always interpret the emotions they held, if you offered him a glimpse, but you never did.

“Is it?” you murmured, emotionless. Neither Four nor Maria caught it, but Steve did. And it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He watched you, hoping—no, needing—you to turn around, to meet his eyes with the same openness you always had. He knew you could feel his gaze, feel his desperate hope that you would just look at him. But you didn’t. You kept walking a few steps behind Four, and the space between you and Steve grew wider with every step.

He wanted to call your name, to pull you aside, to ask if you were okay, if this was too much for you. But something held him back. What if you didn’t respond the way he hoped? What if Four’s presence here was dragging you back into the person you were before? What if you weren’t the person he had fallen so deeply in love with? And what if… what if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you? Or worse, what if you were still exactly what Hydra wanted you to be?

What if…this is the real you?

Steve’s heart was at war with itself. He had fought through battles where the stakes were higher than anything he could imagine here, but the battlefield of emotions felt far more treacherous. His love for you was the one thing he held onto with unyielding certainty—something unshakable. But now, he felt it flickering, like a candle fighting to stay lit in a growing storm.

Every time he looked at you, searching for a sign that you still belonged to him in the way he believed you did, it felt like reaching out for something just beyond his grasp.

It wasn’t the distance you kept from him physically that hurt the most. It was the emotional wall—thick, invisible, but undeniably there. His rationale, the part of him that always tried to be fair, tried to stay calm, told him not to jump to conclusions, not to doubt you. But the love-struck, emotional side of him—the part that saw you as his everything—was falling down into the vast uncertain sea of fear.

Four’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts, he was talking in low, but Steve overheard anyway.

“What are you really working on?” He was genuinely curious: “I’ve always known you were the best of us in intelligence but…this is…” he said in an obvious ‘wow’: “Mr. Stark said that you are on top of R&D, and you are also guiding the way, so I bet it is something…dramatic.”

“I can show you my workspace.” You smirk quietly, your voice a little bit proud, as a sibling that wanted to show off her new toys: “It’s not…dramatic. At least not complicated for you to read.”

“I…” Steve spoke up at the same time he frowned, but held back on calling out your name: “Dr. Lancaster. I don’t think…”

“We’ll be fine, Captain.” You interrupted him, but he could only see your back when you answered, still not looking back for a second: “I’ve got the clearance, no worries.” You said as you walked straight forward without hesitation.

Of course, you weren't leading Four to your lab—your home with Steve, your recluse sanctuary out of the compounds. That would’ve been too much. Even for Steve, it would’ve crossed a line he couldn’t forgive, and you weren’t a monster, like, duh.

Instead, you led Four toward your personal workspace. Or how Tony liked to call it: "the genius playroom", where cutting-edge tech, half-finished projects, and too many abandoned coffee mugs cluttered the surfaces—remnants of late-night brainstorming sessions with him and Bruce.

The room was chaotic brilliance in its purest form. Holographic models of Stark tech hovered in the air like suspended thoughts, caught in an endless cycle of innovation. Transparent screens flashed data faster than any normal person could process: only a select few could follow the constant stream of figures and projections (Three, actually, if Wakandian minds, or Dr. Cho weren't around). Half-assembled drones and sleek energy cores, still pulsating with untapped potential, were scattered around workbenches. Tony’s famous bean bag chairs—“sometimes the ass needs to think before the brain catches up”—occupied one corner, breaking the space's otherwise high-tech aesthetic.

The room was alive with invention, buzzing with the frenetic energy of genius minds always in motion. It was your playground, your escape, and the damn Thursday’s night that you couldn’t make it home and Steve's always resent.

“Bloody hell...” Four’s voice broke through the hum of machinery as he stepped into the room. His eyes widened, slowly sweeping across the multitude of inventions and half-finished designs.

"This is... whoa...little sister, you did find your spot in the world, didn't you?" he muttered, genuine awe in his voice.

You watched him, standing close enough to catch every flicker of his gaze, how his eyes darted from one holographic projection to the next, lingering just a bit too long. As if he was, scanning.

"Well, welcome to The Crib." You said with a casual shrug, already moving toward one of the many touchscreens embedded into the workbenches. You tapped a few commands, and the room sprang to life. Holographic blueprints of your latest projects filled the space between you and Four.

"Where the magic is born. Core of the Avengers and Stark Industries inventions, we usually break a lot of rules here...and stuff, too."

Behind you, Steve and Maria stepped into the room, but your focus remained on the task at hand. Your heart began racing so fast it was going out of your chest, but you pushed it aside. You had work to do.

And a sense of unease gnawed at Steve, making his hair stand on end and his senses become hyper-alert. There was something wrong. Really wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a chill crawled up his spine, making his muscles tense.

He exchanged a glance with Maria—she felt it too. The air was too thick, too still. He could hear your heart beating, too fast, too loud.

You kept moving, subtly positioning yourself near the wall, your body shielding a button—one Steve hadn’t noticed before.

“Four?” Your voice was soft and casual. You were watching him carefully, studying his reactions like you were dissecting his every move.

“Mhm?” He didn’t look back, his attention still locked on the blueprints projected across the room, soaking up every detail.

“When did you say we escorted the king?” You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your position relaxed, but gaze distant. “Was it at the beginning of the war? Or when it was almost over?”

“Beginning. Why?” Four turned to face you, a smile still hanging on his lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we were Hydra back then.” You said, voice level but resolute. “We didn’t escort people. Not the alliance, at least.”

Four’s smile faltered. It froze on his face.

“Who are you?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a razor edge beneath the surface. “And why are you pretending to be my brother?”

"Shit!" Maria immediately pulled out her gun, aiming straight at Four—no, Agent Frazer's—head, her finger tight on the trigger.

Steve stayed still, fists clenched, eyes rapidly calculating every option in the room: the exits, the distance between you and Four, and how fast he could get to either of you. In a matter of seconds, hundreds of plans flashed through his mind, each one detailing how things could go down.

Four's face remained calm, but the shift in his eyes betrayed him. The mask of the amiable older brother slipped, revealing the cold, calculating operative underneath—the same one who had greeted Captain America this morning: the perfect spy, shifting personas like a chameleon, adapting to every situation.

A slow, smug smile curled across his lips, replacing the affectionate facade he wore seconds ago.

"How did you know?" he asked, tilting his head, examining you. He seemed almost impressed by your unflinching calm, as if you'd been expecting this all along.

"'It's the realization of everything we once hoped for.'" Your gaze was unwavering, your tone even as you repeated his earlier words.

"What?"

You lowered your eyelids, the weight of old memories seeping into your voice, barely a whisper.

"You’ve said that this tech, this…unrealistic world leadered by heroes, is something that we hoped for… is not."

You didn’t know whom you were talking to, to Four, to Steve, or to yourself.

“We were kids. Trapped in a cage. We never hoped for any of this.” You paused: “My brother and sisters died before I was even grown up. And they didn’t dream big. We didn't have the chance or dared to do so.”

Steve's heart clenched. He had sensed this, but hearing you say it still hit harder than expected.

"You knew?" Four's tone shifted, darker, more dangerous. His eyes gleamed like a predator closing in on its prey. "From the beginning?"

"Easy, Frazer." Maria warned, her aim steady. "You even blink, and I'll put a bullet in your pretty forehead."

"Of course I knew…" you said calmly. "And I know you're wearing a retinal lens—a live-streaming neural interface that captures everything you see, using nanotransceivers to broadcast it live via ultra-broadband frequencies to a secure hub."

Steve's mind clicked into place. You had the ability to see the composition of materials in everything around you. It was why Tony often had you blend in with the crowd, to detect anything out of place or hidden in plain sight.

"Then you know it's too late." Four's grin widened, a victorious glint in his eyes. "I've already got everything I need, little sister."

"Do you?" You smiled—a smile Steve knew all too well, the one that meant you were about to love what happened next.

You snapped your fingers.

"Revelio."

The world around you shimmered, peeling away like burning paper. The high-tech lab setup dissolved, revealing a The Crib instead, but it didn’t have all the advanced technology drafts as it was shown to Four. It was a clean, organized, fancy lab, not revealing anything confidential, it looked brand new..

"Binary Augmented Retro-Framing. Or BARF." you said, almost sighing. "It's on the market. The records are public. Tony loves to play with it."

"You think you're so smart." Frazer sneered, a cruel twist to his lips. "Or good. You think joining these superheroes will erase what you are? What you really are? You're nothing but a monstrous experiment."

"You're right." Your expression didn’t falter, not even a twitch. "My brothers and sisters were better." You continued watching him, calm as ever. "But you didn’t come all this way just for some tech demo, did you?"

"No." Frazer's smirk returned, sharper than before. "I came to confirm something, and I did. But there’s one last thing I wanted to check, just in case."

Steve's instincts kicked in, but he knew it was already too late.

Frazer locked eyes with you, and his voice dropped, firm and deliberate:

"Мечта."

-TBC-

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohooo...damn!! OMG thank you for reading thus far! Hope you really enjoyed it like I did writing it, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, tho.

Next chapter is finished already so I'll see you on next Friday! And I couldn't help myself on the "Revelio" part, I just had to give that dramatic line, if there were background music asin the movies, that's when it comes to play XD

Alright, let me know what do you think! (Also if you thought this was intense then next chapter is worse...xD)

Love.,

Moon.

Shoot, I completely forgot, but it was mentioned by the brilliant @steviebbboi & @jamneuromain that I should have a taglist? So mentioning here, will edit when I have it ready ❤️

#captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers smut #original character #this is a very long chapter

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hermetiqa · 23 hours

Text

Who's secretly jealous of you?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

BOOK A READING WITH ME

TIP JAR | FEEDBACK

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

A friend you just met, either from work or school. I see that you're a hardworking person and you know how to appreciate your hardwork and efforts you put into your responsibilities and basically just everything you do. This person, who has masculine energy, envies you for that and they're jealous of you. Might be an air sign (gemini, libra, aquarius). They're the kind of person who would act on impulse and might ghost you whenever they want to, then come back when they need something from you. Happiness, abundance, and stability flow in your life easily and this person is envious of that. You're good at manifesting and anything you manifest comes true. I'm getting that you need to watch your back when you're around this person and reconsider your friendship/connection when needed. This person might be talking shit about you behind your back or when you're not around, but they're so kind in front of you as if they're an angel.

Pile 2

Your new friend whom you're starting to be close with. This person has feminine energy and might be an earth sign (taurus, virgo, capricorn). I feel like you might've been confused about this person or your connection with them but I'm seeing that things are starting to become clear to you now. You might've asked some questions like "what do they want from me?" "Why are they acting like this?" "Are they lying to me?" or you might've just felt that something's off or not right. Well, you're right. Something's not right with this connection. You might've met and clicked immediately, you might have the same interests and the thing is, you're quite better than this person when it comes to both of your interests, which makes this person jealous of you. I feel like this person might be planning something for you to not be good at something, maybe some project. You might have a mutual friend or you could be in a trio, and you need to watch your back when you're with them. You might be giving everything you can to this person and your connection, but they're not doing the same thing nor reciprocating what you're giving. And it's not because they're busy or it's just not their thing, but because they really don't want to.

Pile 3

An acquaintance you barely know. I feel like you just met recently too and you might've heard about each other before. This person has masculine energy and at the same time, they're childish. They're not expressive about their emotions towards you or when they're around you because they're threatened by your presence. You might feel sad about this because you think they're a good person and you think highly of them, but in the end, they're manipulative and controlling. They want people around them to follow them and say yes to them all the time. I'm seeing that you have a light energy and this person is envious of that. They want your energy and how people around you just like you. They think you're smart and they're jealous of that. You might think that this is a good connection, but once you see the red flags or have some signs about this, run.

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oliversrarebooks · 2 days

Text

a good grade in being brainwashed: the perfect pet

tw: pet whump, bbu, dehumanization, brainwashing, memory wipe

Previous > Masterlist

"You need more than good looks to get the lead part, you know," said Toby, casually coming up behind Vinay and leaning against his chair. "That's why they'll undoubtedly go with me. No hard feelings. If you're very lucky, though, you'll get to play a supporting role in helping my star shine that much brighter."

Vinay suppressed the urge to point out that it was Toby who convinced him to sign up for theater in the first place, knowing full well that he was the idiot who let Toby talk him into things. "I'll have you know I've been practicing for this audition all week. You shouldn't assume it will be easy."

Toby sighed and rolled his eyes. "You've been practicing all week and yet you're still so stiff. Stiff as a board!" He shook Vinay lightly as if to make a point. "The lead role isn't stiff. He's adventurous. Dashing! Charismatic! And right now you look like a tired accountant three years from retiring, whose idea of adventure is to buy medium salsa instead of mild."

He scowled, because unfortunately Toby was probably right. He wasn't sure he was cut out for acting at all, and the thought of going up on the stage and delivering his monologue before a judging panel… "What do you suggest, then?"

"Here, I've got it." Toby circled around behind him and put his hands on Vinay's shoulders. "You have to let your muscles relax."

"What are you doing?" said Vinay with considerable alarm.

"I'm helping with your stiffness, obviously." Toby was kneading at his shoulders, and unfortunately for Vinay's resolve, it felt amazing.

"You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

"And even though you know that, it's still working."

Of course it was. Vinay never knew what Toby was thinking, giving him a massage in front of everyone gathered for the audition, not that anyone was really noticing.

Actually, no. Vinay knew exactly what Toby was thinking, because it was what Toby was always thinking. He wanted attention, and as usual, Vinay was a convenient source for it.

"Let all that tension out of those muscles," said Toby in a tone that might have been soothing if it weren't Toby. "Just let your mind go blank. And think about what it would be like if you weren't terminally boring."

"Thanks," said Vinay, dripping with sarcasm. "I'll do my best."

"You're so very welcome. I'm always happy to help a fellow thespian!"

Vinay knew he had to do something to take his mind off of warm hands on his shoulders, lest he start to get uncomfortable feelings for his irritating roommate. "I wanted to ask you, have you studied for organic chem yet?"

"Eh, nah. I don't need to. I see organic chem as more of an art than a science really."

"…It's very literally a science."

"So I can probably intuit all the answers. I'll be fine."

That's right, Vinay needed this reminder of how absolutely infuriating Toby could be. He didn't take anything seriously but acting and inflating his ego -- although Vinay suspected there was more going on there, a lot more.

Ever since the very first day they'd been paired together in the dorms, he had an uncanny knack for getting on Vinay's nerves. He seemed to have a supernatural ability for pushing Vinay's buttons just enough to drive him up the wall, but never quite enough that Vinay could truly dislike him. Whenever Vinay wanted peace and quiet, there he'd be, demanding attention. And whenever Vinay was lonely… well, he'd usually be there too. And perhaps that wasn't so terrible.

"You should really study after this. I'll help you."

"Hmm… I suppose I could help you study, if you really want me to. But only if we order Chinese. I can't study on an empty stomach, you know."

"Fine. Deal."

The auditorium went quiet as the director got up on stage. "All right, we're going to begin auditions. Everyone auditioning for the male lead, please head backstage now. When your name is called, you'll have five minutes to deliver your monologue."

"Oh, here we go!" said Toby, cracking his knuckles and grinning. "Time to shine!"

"Right." Vinay tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he followed Toby backstage. He probably wasn't going first, so at least he'd have five minutes to take some deep breaths and calm down before --

"Vinay? You're up first."

Shit.

"Knock 'em dead," said Toby, clapping him on the back. "Break a leg. Break both your legs."

"What?"

"Shatter your collarbone. Suffer third degree burns to over sixty percent of your body."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, if breaking your leg is lucky, more injuries must be extra luck."

Vinay groaned and brushed Toby off as he walked out onto stage with a stride he hoped was confident. He turned to the front and looked at the director.

And his mind went immediately blank.

---

Vinay's mind went immediately blank when he saw the discount pet in the case in the corner, B211.

Toby. It was Toby. But that wasn't possible.

He looked so different from the last time Vinay had seen him. His hair was neatly done and he was wearing a tailored uniform, nothing at all like the tousled hair and loud colors he'd normally preferred. But the most striking thing about him was the smile. It was no longer that cocky grin he always wore when he'd gotten your attention. It was a customer service smile, a meek and submissive smile, a smile tinged with desperation.

But it was Toby. Even though that didn't seem possible, there was no mistake.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that one," said the salesman. "He's a bit more high maintenance than our other Romantics, and you're looking for a pet that's very independent, right?"

Vinay nodded and let the salesman lead him away to a different pet on display, but his mind remained behind.

How the hell did Toby end up as a pet? Vinay had spent so much time with him in college and never suspected that he might be a pet. Sure, he struggled with his grades, and was a bit on the unstable side, but surely that didn't mean he was a pet. Had he signed up voluntarily? Had he gotten himself in trouble, the sort of trouble that got him designated a risk to himself? Did he have a nervous breakdown?

And did he remember Vinay? No, he couldn't possibly. Pets all had their former memories erased through what was said to be a very humane process, to ease their transition into a better life. Toby likely didn't remember anything at all about him.

And that thought made him slightly ill.

"I can tell this one's not to your liking," said the salesman, and Vinay realized he'd been making a disgusted look in the vague direction of the pet the salesman was showing off. "Well, I think you're going to like this pet. He's low maintenance and is trained to cook…"

"That sounds interesting," said Vinay, trying to regain his focus.

He'd come here to find a companion pet on the recommendation of his therapist. His job left him with plenty of money but even more stress, he'd had little luck with making friends or dating, and he'd been getting desperately lonely and touch-starved. His therapist quite reasonably pointed out that that was one of the primary functions of pets, to ease loneliness.

Vinay had never considered it before. He'd never been fond of his family's Domestics. His father had preferred them unseen and unheard, so they tended to flit around the house like ghosts. Vinay certainly didn't want a pet like that. He wanted a pet with some personality, who could brighten his days and give him something to do other than work and sleep.

And he absolutely could not buy Toby, not that he would even consider it. However Toby had ended up as a pet, it was not his business, and Vinay was a stranger to him now anyway. Even if he didn't have his memory cleaned, Toby would no doubt hate being stuck with Vinay again. Most importantly, there was a rule in the Pet Owners' Handbook warning against keeping pets that the owner knew before they were pets. After all, pets had their memories erased so that their training would take well and so they wouldn't experience any unnecessary duress. Digging up those memories could cause psychological harm.

There was another customer in front of Toby now. Vinay had no reason to worry about him - he probably made a great pet, and would be bought up quickly.

That thought didn't make Vinay feel better at all.

The salesman directed him to the largest case at the end of the show floor. "And I've saved the best for last. This is a premium model, one of the finest we've had in this showroom. He does it all, and does it in style."

The premium pet was perfectly coiffed and very handsome. His smile looked much more natural than some of the other pets', warm and inviting, as though he truly wanted to be your companion. The salesman eagerly listed his attributes: independent, intelligent, capable of being a personal assistant, eager to please…

This one was everything he had wanted in a pet, just the sort of thing he'd been looking for. The pet was expensive, but Vinay could easily afford this indulgence. He'd be the perfect addition to Vinay's lonely condo, one he'd be proud to have.

"If this pet is within your budget, I think he'd be best suited to your needs, sir."

"He does seem like an ideal fit…" said Vinay with a lack of enthusiasm that surprised even him. After all, wasn't this exactly what he wanted? An ideal pet, perfectly trained, quiet, obedient, affectionate.

Just the right boring, corporate addition to his boring, corporate life.

"Would you like to spend a little time with him? I'm sure once you do, you won't be leaving this showroom alone."

Who was this premium pet before he was a pet? He wasn't meant to worry about that. They were all supposed to be volunteers or those who otherwise couldn't live a normal life, and the pet process was supposed to be humane and gentle. It was good for them, and good for pet owners.

But when he glanced over at Toby's blank and docile face…

"Maybe, but I'm still interested in that one. The one I saw when I first came in."

What was he doing? He couldn't buy Toby. That pet wasn't even Toby any more. He wasn't the roommate that drove Vinay up the wall at every given opportunity. He no longer knew any of Vinay's secrets, shared with him in late night conversations. He was a pet, now, and this premium pet was much better suited to Vinay's needs, just like the salesman said.

His needs. How often did he really think about his needs? What were they? Was a premium pet really what he needed?

Every rational part of his mind was screaming "bad idea" as he walked back to Toby's case. As he approached, a tiny spark of light appeared in Toby's dull eyes, and Vinay knew, against all of his sensible judgement, that he wasn't going to leave here without his old frenemy.

It had to be delusional, leftover feelings from his college years, all the time spent tutoring Toby and trying to get him to take his work seriously, all those times they'd spent laughing and talking about subjects both deep and ridiculous…

Vinay didn't really know what he needed, but he couldn't help but feel that Toby needed him.

"Are you sure?" said the salesman, clearly confused as to why Vinay had gone back here after being shown the premium model. "This one's a refurb. That's why he's on a discount."

A refurb. Someone had previously owned and sold Toby. He'd had his memories wiped at least twice now.

"Do you know why he was returned?"

"Ah, his original owner simply found a new relationship, and was displeased with the amount of attention this Romantic required. He's been wiped of those memories, and we've done our best to train out his unfortunate need for attention, of course…"

Vinay made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a choke. Of course Toby was attention-seeking as a pet. If there was one thing Toby couldn't stand, it was being ignored or bored.

And his previous owner hadn't appreciated that. He could imagine Toby's desperation as his bids for affection were rebuked by a busy owner. Lonely. Rejected. They surely didn't know how to handle him. Vinay knew, though. He always had.

"I want to buy this one."

The salesman was as surprised as Vinay was, going on about how they don't accept returns on refurbished pets. That hardly mattered. Vinay wasn't going to be returning him.

He was actually going to go through with this. He was going to own Toby.

No, he was going to own the pet that was once Toby. He wasn't the same, and Vinay couldn't treat him that way, lest he damage his new pet.

It would be fine. He'd stick to the rules in the Pet Owners' Handbook, the thick tome he'd already read half a dozen times, and it would be fine. He wouldn't bring up old memories. He'd give this pet a good life and all of the attention he deserved, at least when he was off work. It'd be fine.

And so he'd ended up in the sales office, signing mountains of paperwork to make him the legal owner of B211.

"We'd be happy to offer you any of our very affordable add-on packages," said the salesman. "We have additional skill training, discipline courses, and a wide variety of modifications we can make to your new pet before he goes home with you. For this particular pet, I would strongly recommend additional obedience and docility courses, to make sure he's well suited to your busy lifestyle."

"No, that won't be necessary," said Vinay, thinking of Toby's -- no, B211's -- eyes. Vinay had never seen him so quiet and docile. More obedience training seemed like the last thing he needed.

"Very well. If you change your mind, you can always give him discipline and obedience refreshers as necessary, although it might be more difficult for the pet once he becomes attached to you."

"I understand," said Vinay, signing another packet of papers. His brain was already swimming with how best he should welcome his new pet into his home. He'd planned for it extensively, read all the books, and of course Toby -- no, no, B211, damn it -- had to throw a wrench in his plans.

He was sure of one thing, though. B112 would be safe and happy with him if it was the last thing he did.

Previous > Masterlist

I'm sure this will go well.

@there-will-always-be-blood @kisa-writes @andithewhumper @handsinmotion @whumperhive

@eventide-triptych @pumpkinsncoffee

#whump #whump writing #pet whump #brainwashing #bbu #conditioning #dehumanization #good grade in being brainwashed #toby #vinay

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lightlycareless · 2 days

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what would naoyas reaction be to finding out Satoru was y/ns first kiss?

Hello!!

Well, it would be chaos. LOL. Poor Naoya is very insecure even if it doesn't look like it 🤣 but why say this when I can show you?

warnings: fluff. a jealous naoya. satoru is a jerk? maybe. he likes to be silly. a lot. too much. also not sure if to tag this as a regular prompt or a side story, but considering that happened in my fic... i've decided to take it as a small side story.

Happy reading!

He would lose it. Even if you explained that it was nothing but a bet, curiosity getting the best of you and no feelings involved, Naoya would take this as a quick starter for his one-sided competition against Satoru.

He just had to prove how he was so much better than the Gojo heir in everything; from clothes, to cars, to what phone model he had for the moment, even the places he took you out to eat!

And naturally, Satoru wouldn’t even know what was going on, believing Naoya was simply doing whatever spoiled heirs did (never him, of course. Self-awareness is out the window) though he was curious to know what you thought of the matter, you appeared to be quite… overwhelmed by these sudden changes, surely, you’d be able to offer some insight behind all this.

Thus, after asking you to meet at a nearby café…

“You mean to say you don’t know why your husband is acting all…” Satoru scowls, failing to find the right word to describe his behavior, if there even was one…

“No, really, I don’t! I mean… sometimes he just likes to buy things! Sometimes for himself, sometimes for me, especially after a well-done mission or simply because we’ve been apart for far too long. I don’t like it when he does it impulsively, though, since I suspect he gets in trouble with his family over it…” You say. “Well, that’s a bit off topic—anyways, I don’t think he’s doing anything… differently. Why do you ask?”

“Come on, Y/N. You don’t actually believe that do you?? I’ve seen it in your eyes, you know that isn’t your typical obnoxious Naoya—”

“Don’t say that of him. And, well, I guess he’s been a bit off, but…”

“There! Now, let’s backtrack your steps, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Why does it matter so much to you? You’re the same too!” You frown.

Because he’s been far more attentive than he liked to let on; noticing that whenever he went all-out on his spending, he was around. With anyone else he was just… normal, he supposes. If that adjective could even be used on Naoya.

Or maybe because he didn’t want to take his actions as a reflection of his own. But since when did he even care what others thought of him? Might’ve been after one nasty comment from your sister…

“I’m actually more likeable but thank you for trying.” Satoru says, you roll your eyes. “Anyways, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Oh, if you really must know then I guess a few days ago?”

“And what happened then? You have to give me all the details Y/N! Don’t half-ass your story!”

“You’ll have to be nicer about it if you want me to tell you!”

“I’ll buy you any sweet you want—”

“I already have Naoya for that.”

“Then I’ll get you a copy of that game you’ve been looking for ages, deal?”

“Alright, alright.” You sigh, conceding. “…I mean, I don’t think there’s much else for me to tell you. We kind of just talk about anything that crosses our minds; make the most of our time together before he has to leave for work again, you know?”

“Ugh, that’s gross.”

“Satoru!”

“I mean—oh, poor you; anyhow, there must’ve been something you said that made him act this way! Come on, remember!”

“Well, we… we talked about wanting to go down to the city for dinner, before settling for the garden. We then laughed about something funny that happened to one of the servants, something that reminded me of that one thing I did when I was younger—with you, actually! You know which one, when I bet you a kiss—”

Oh.

OH.

And just like that, everything made sense.

“No, Satoru—I know that look, don’t even—!”

“Jealous?! Your husband’s acting like that because he’s jealous? Of me?!?” Gojo shrieked, undoubtedly having the time of his life with this revelation.

“No, he’s not! Stop it already, it’s not even funny…”

“I mean, surely you must know how he is.” He snickers. “He’s always been the competitive one, even when we were kids! I just never thought it would come to you—do you think he fears I’m going to steal you away? Or maybe—oh no, are you falling for me, Y/N??”

“What?! You need to lay off whatever it is you consume; it’s affecting your perception of reality!”

“How about it? Wanna see the limits his jealousy takes him to?” Satoru continues teasing. “Ah, he must be devastated that I took your sweet first time, do you think he has nightmares because of it? Wonders if he could ever compare to me?”

“No! Now, if you excuse me, there’s some misunderstandings I need to clear up.” You swiftly interrupt, standing up from your seat before making your way back home, back to an anxious Naoya who has been nothing but torturing himself with self-deprecating thoughts ever since you told him you were to meet Satoru. His biggest contender for your affections so it seems, the one putting his marriage in jeopardy…

But thankfully, you were there to ease all of these hurtful thoughts away, once and for all.

“Naoya… my dear, can we talk?”

“…What is it?” a pout on his face as he grumbles, side effects of his overwhelming jealousy.

“There’s a reason why you’ve done all that… compulsive spending, isn’t you?”

“No. I just do it because I want to.” He responds sternly, you sigh.

“I know why, Naoya. You don’t have to hide it anymore.” You reveal, making him tense for a quick moment before sighing too. “It was long ago, and it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Ugh, I know, and yet—I can’t help but feel resentful. Like I… I lost something.”

“Oh, Naoya… but that was just a silly thing I did as a child, you know?” you coo, soon wrapping your arms around him and pulling him to you. “Besides, you’ve taken something much more important from me.”

“What?”

“My heart—and that is something no one will ever win from you, not even Satoru.”

“…I truly acted like a child, haven’t I?” Naoya says, embarrassed.

“Well, I always thought you were cute when jealous, but… never to the extent of making you insecure. Less with someone as annoying as him! How could you possibly even think I liked him?” you giggle.

“I don’t know… He’s… not that bad, I guess.” He looks away, flustered.

“Yet, he’s not you, silly.” You say, standing on your tiptoes to give place a sweet kiss on the lips. His heart warms up for the first time since that day, slowly melting away all his uncertainties. “He’ll never be. Thank God! So… does this mean we can settle everything and leave all this behind?”

“Only if you show me how much better I am than Satoru…”

“Was that even disputable?” you ask, Naoya’s arms snaking around your waist and pulling you even closer.

“No, I just need a reminder—wouldn’t mind a demonstration for him too…” he teases, you frown.

“… Just one kiss, and that’s it. Nothing more. You know I don’t like it when other sees us like this.”

“Of course, you’re only mine, after all.”

Y/N to the rescue 🥺 But don't I seem to always write her reassuring him? Thankfully I do have something planned for that... a jealous Y/N that needs to be reminded of how much Naoya truly loves her :))))

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! I'm sure I've spoken about Naoya reacting to Y/N's first kiss and how it involved Satoru (unfortunately) but this time around I've decided to write a little something :> I hope you enjoyed it!

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #series side stories: first it hurts—

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brainworms-all-night-long · 8 hours

Text

Jumpscares you, it is brothers angst time >:]

3,979 Words

Part one: Outsider's interference

Once upon a time Two brothers left all of their suffering behind A little smile Oh brother join me, please just stay a while — [Under the apple tree | original song by xXtha on YT]

The portal closed and Dream was left there standing on the green grass alone.

The fox's words took hold in his mind and finally allowed him to connect the loose pieces of a puzzle already he had already mostly solved, but stayed in futile denial over what it formed.

Something in the hedgehog cracked.

The entire village be damned, this is his little brother we're talking about, and Dream just had enough of cleaning and dressing the endless wounds the younger gets when he "trips and falls" because he knows for sure Night barely leaves the damned tree anyway.

The tree.

Dream looked up at the hill. The tree's unmistakable might loomed over him with the duo color of apples shining just like the stars above, hundreds of tiny specks of light blending into the vast void.

There was guilt for the disdain he began to feel when pointing to it as the only reason he was stuck here, but he let it fester anyway. If anything, it helped him steel his resolve. There was a very loose plan held trapped at the back of his head since he saw a scratch on Night's face he didn't see happen when they were playing for the first time, and perhaps it would be partial to revisit it.

Thoughts of running away and making his home wherever and whenever he wanted that used to be but a distant daydream now felt tangible, and he grabbed onto them.

The hedgehog wasn't even sure why though. Today was barely any different than yesterday in terms of routine, could the traveler fox really have left such an impact? Was it the confirmation of all his worries by an unknown outsider to their situation? Being able to see that yes, getting out of here is possible? That there exists someone out there who can come an go as they please with no responsibility tying them down?

Dream envied him.

Being able to come and go not just within the same world but to others as well whenever he felt like it was something he'd let his arm be cut off for. He hoped the fox enjoys his travels.

Speaking of limbs though, the guardian's legs were already halfway to where his barely thought through plan had led him, his head finally catching up.

Leaving the tree unguarded is something he couldn't do, and picking all of the apples would simply be too time consuming and there were but few hours left until dawn.

There was no question of waiting until tomorrow least he chickens out and lets his brother get hurt again.

It simply couldn't be allowed to go on for any longer. His mother must forgive him for this, but it's for Night's and his own good.

The destination of his unconvincing conviction was the always halfway opened window of the seamstresses' shop that he snuck through. There, he grabbed a bigger bag for himself and stuffed it with a pair of ordinary clothes and boots that would loosely fit the two of them.

They couldn't function on just one set out in the wild that was for sure, even if their clothes were magic or whatever. Variety was the spice of life as they say.

After leaving a few rings on the counter and making sure he kept as quiet as possible, he slid the window into the position it was before disturbed and thanked for Saturn not being outright on the reception table as she sometimes favors being.

With the bag over his shoulder, he ran to the back of Oakley's, where the carpenter was sure to keep his heavier, more dangerous woodworking tools.

After almost knocking down a set of planks, Dream found what he was looking for.

Grabbing the axe's handle and using one leg for support, he wrestled it out of the scarred stump and gave a long pacing exhale.

All necessary things acquired, Dream ignored his heart beating in his throat while making his way uphill.

He reached for the closest apples with the full intent of placing them along with the clothes into the bag.

He never saw them decay or be damaged by any means your average apple would, and while he also wasn't exactly privy to how the whole "emotional balance" thing worked, two of each should be enough right? Before he even managed to touch one of the apples though, he felt blue eyes intently staring at him.

"What are you doing?"

Night was peering at him from one of the thick branches with a suspicious expression.

Dream didn't answer as he ripped the golden fruit off the branch and threw it into the open bag.

"Where's Nine, what are you doing?"

The fox hopped down, asking more insistently this time, exchanging bewildered glances between Dream and the tree.

"He left. And we're about to as well."

Internally cursing himself, Dream went to pull on another apple.

He should've known that he'd have to get through to Night on this first, and explain his point of view. Maybe they should've pre-planned something. But it was whatever now, too late.

"What's gotten into you what-"

The fox grabbed onto his hand to stop him, but all it did was pluck the fruit right off its stem as Dream refused to let go of it.

Night grasped and immediately took a step back. The hedgehog resumed his work towards the other side of the tree as if that distraction didn't even happen, with the younger trailing behind.

"We are not allowed to pick the apples for no reason Dream, stop!"

He flailed his arms around, trying to place himself between his brother and the next fruit in his crosshairs, but was effortlessly pushed away.

It was when the hedgehog went for the dark apple he realized one of the (very definitely many) holes in his plan.

It was said they cannot interact with the apples from their opposite side but Dream never bothered to come up with or figure out a reason why. It unfortunately became abundantly clear that if he touches one, it changes color, therefore nullifying the whole balance aspect.

"Dream!!"

Night all but screamed to get his brother's attention, only for the hedgehog to click his tongue and turn to him with a frown.

"What, I think it's pretty obvious what I'm doing here." Time for plan B then. "But I'll need your help, so go grab two apples from your side of the tree and a your books into this bag." He nonchalantly motioned his hand and the bag swung gently with its weight.

"What do you mean we're about to leave- and why did you bring an axe!?"

The kit exclaimed, pointing behind them where the tool stood stuck in the ground for later use.

Dream grit his teeth. Not out of anger, he could never be angry at the little fox, especially not when he was right. But this... complicated things.

He needs the other on his side as quickly as possible if they want to disappear before the dawn, but something told him that is gonna be near impossible to accomplish in amount of time.

Dream sighed, those baby blue eyes looking at him with all the confusion and ferocity in the world as he gently placed his hand on the little guardian's shoulder.

"Look." The hedgehog started slowly. He could at least try, "Neither me nor you are happy in here. There's no point in staying. So I'm taking the apples and we're leaving."

"Leaving? But, but to where?" Nightmare insisted pushing his brother's hand away, with his confusion quickly morphing into fear, "We can't just leave the tree here, you know that! You're not gonna cut it down, are you?"

Dream was silenced quickly. Yes. Yes, that was the plan. And the reasoning for the plan.

He tightened his brushed off hand into a fist and looked away.

It sounded completely outlandish when said out loud by someone else outside of his head though, and he found himself hesitating.

But he always hesitated, always put things off for later, and always let others have a say in what he does.

And he was tired of that. Tired of himself for being like that.

He hates that it's his little brother of all people that has to suffer his newfound stubbornness first, but it has to start somewhere, no?

"I know we can't just leave it standing while we're no longer here to guard it, but we also don't have time or a way to just take every single apple off and take it with us, so I'm doing the second best thing." He could at least explain his reasoning. "We can't stay here anymore, I can't allow them to hurt you again."

Night's ears dropped flat against his head with tails curling around his legs. The hedgehog found it impossible to keep his aloof attitude up.

"You can't just cut down the tree! That's- you realize that would kill our mother right?"

Dream refused to phrase it like that at any point in his head, yet the other served it to him as bluntly as possible.

And again. The distraught fox was right.

The guardian sucked in a deep breath.

Quite frankly, he didn't see a difference between the tree standing and it being down in regards to his mother's influence. If anything he barely heard her anymore, and she definitely didn't do anything to protect Night while he was away, so it really wasn't hard to come to terms with it.

She felt pretty much dead to him for a long time.

"I know. But if I had to choose between seeing you smile genuinely again, just once, or sitting idly underneath that stupid tree while being eaten alive by the itch of being literally anywhere else but here, I think the answer is obvious."

Dream was unable to meet his brother's face anymore, this whole ordeal turning out to be much heavier than he could ever expect being.

The one thing turning out exactly how he predicted though, was Night not being convinced in the slightest.

"Stop! Did you think about the consequences of this, like at all!? What if the apples we take will rot anyway once the tree is cut, what if we die if the tree does, what if it can't even be cut with a regular axe, what if- what-" The kit stammered, so many thoughts swarming and falling over each other in that big little head of his as he tried to wrap it around his brother's seemingly sudden 180°.

He was always such a worry wart, going over and catastrophizing any and all possibilities, and normally Dream would find it endearing, jokingly wave him off, assure him all would be alright eventually. But now he wasn't so sure of it himself

"Why are you just so ok with cutting it down in the first place!?"

Nightmare finally barked out, and while his concerns were justified, Dream couldn't afford them.

Maybe he shouldn't have been burdened with such a responsibility in the first place, then. If it was so easy for him to flip on his duty. Did anyone ask him if he wanted it? No. So why should he have to get permission to rid of it.

"Maybe not, but tell me, do you feel happy here. Like, at all? Getting kicked around like a play ball and then having a blackeye for seven days while hiding in the tree? Where you won't even talk to me? Where you keep lying to my face for no reason?"

The last question appeared to shoot right through Night's heart and the hedgehog regretted the irritated tone that seeped into his words. Unfortunately that didn't even scratch the surface of how he felt about his brother closing off to him at every turn.

Night grabbed onto the cape draped around his shoulders and shook his head.

"Well, obviously not... b-but! This is our only home! And where would we even go, we can't just leave to nowhere."

Suddenly, the little guardian's face lit up with a realization.

"Wait. He told you, didn't he. That's why you're–"

"That the villagers are relentlessly bullying you behind my back?" Dream tried to not let it get to him, the fact that his brother was more willing to confide in a stranger he knew for a couple of hours instead of him, "Don't worry I already knew, and trust that I feel horrible and like an idiot for not doing anything about it sooner. But hey, better late than never Eh?" that they barely talked to each other anymore.

He shrugged at the end, trying to shake off some of the icy sweat trickling through his bristled spines and fur. He felt sick just thinking about it, let alone hearing himself admit it out loud like that.

He needed this to be over already.

"You can't be serious."

His brother's demeanor completely dropped after that.

There was no winning him over it seemed, (not that he was in any place to try and be convincing) so Dream used that as a convenient punctuation point for him to go get the axe.

"I am. And we're also running out of time, so if you'd just pack your things and let me do my thing, we'll be up over and gone sooner than later."

He gripped the handle, the tool much heavier in his hand than it was before and he turned back to face his brother.

"No. I won't let you go through with this."

Dream staggered, the little guardian stood before the tree, one hand gripped the cape closed over his chest and the other held protectively outstretched in front of the tree.

"I'm doing this for us Night. For you. I can't let us stay here anymore."

Dream said through his teeth, fighting back the burn behind his eyes.

"We'll why are you pointing an axe at ME then huh? 'Doing it for me', you weren't even meaning to TELL me before it was already DONE AND OVER!"

The fox yelled, steadily losing his own battle with years as they welled up, no matter how hard he tried to he tried to shake them away and keep up his resolute stance.

Dream's mouth grew to a thin line, grip on the handle as strong as he could hold, yet the thing began to slip through his fingers anyway.

"Night please–"

"You're doing this just for your own selfish sake. We are supposed to GUARD the tree, that's why we were born, and you're here just–"

The hedgehog sneered.

"So you'd rather be bullied to death here than make one leap of faith and a sacrifice?"

Nightmare sucked in a shaky breath, looking behind him, down the hill, and then back at his brother while barely moving his head as the tears pushed over the edge and cut through the fur on his muzzle.

"Y-yes."

Dream grimaced, trying and failing to swallow a thick lump of saliva clogging his throat. Or maybe it was his actual heart up there. Who could tell at this point.

"You don't mean that."

The little fox shook like a leaf, staring daggers into his brother's shoes.

"We were born to do this Dream, we- we can't–"

"We can't just keep waiting for one of us to drop dead or get killed Nightmare."

The fox's eyes darted up at the mention of his full name. Dream rarely used it, if ever. He thought it sounded way too mean, and contained too many syllables, so it "took too long to say."

Maybe on the off chances he was being a patronizing big brother and trying to poke fun at how the little guardian acted so much more mature than some adults in the village, he'd use the full name. But this was hardly a lighthearted jab and far away from a good laugh the two brothers once shared (when was the last time they did that.)

"We are meant to guard the tree with our lives if necessary, you know. You'll–" the fox swallowed thickly blinking away his tears and locking eyes with his brother properly "You will have to get through me first."

Dream couldn't even move his facial muscles at this point, so he just gave his brother an empty stare.

He quickly ran through the events that led the two of them to this confrontation in the first place, because where he stood now felt just so... surreal.

He could drop it here and now though. Stick the axe back in the ground and put his hands up in a surrender. They would eventually laugh it off a couple weeks later (or not talk about it at all) and everything would go back to the repetitive, mind numbing routine.

The same injuries he'd had to take care of, the same song and dance he would have to do to keep the villagers he never asked for to be here happy.

And then slowly burn out while he watches his brother slowly die right next to him as each day slips on by.

He could do that.

Dream sighed, surprising himself that there even was any air left in him as he did so, and he took a shaky step forward.

"Out of my way. Last warning."

Nightmare didn't waver, whether it was because of his determination or fear keeping him frozen in place didn't exactly matter.

The hedgehog could barely keep himself standing, let alone walk towards the tree and swing the axe, but he had to. He had to if he wanted to get them out of this lukewarm hell.

"NO! What you want to do is unthinkable!" The fox cried and finally moved to take a step closer to the tree, maintaining the distance between them and seeking comfort from his mother who would not respond to him. She never did.

"I can't let you–"

Or perhaps this time she will. Except not with comfort and gentle words as a mother should to their distraught child, but an earsplitting shriek that petrified both of them in place.

Despite it being past midnight, the sky somehow grew darker along with everything else alive around them.

An unrelenting grasp of burning chill and rot bloomed from the base of the tree and the world was set to slow motion when a single twinkle of gold caught Dream's eye.

All the dreadful slag keeping his body still vanished for the moment as adrenaline took over and the axe soared through the air.

It crashed through the branches and disappeared, dropping a few dry twigs, blackened leaves and a single, golden apple in its wake that the hedgehog barely caught.

The little fruit felt like a ton heavy weight once safely landing in his palms, and it dragged him into a collision with the ground. Blue pants scraped dry dirt and dead grass, while he held the fruit as close to his chest as possible.

He felt cold. Unbelievably so. It was like being plunged into an icy lake (not that he knew how that felt like, it used to be always pleasantly warm here) and as one would if underwater, he found it impossible to breathe.

The only thing keeping him from drowning completely was the tiny ball of golden fire clasped in his hands.

But keeping it outside wasn't nearly enough, he still couldn't breathe, he was sure to die if he doesn't figure out a way to get air back to his lungs. He doesn't want to die yet, he can't. Not here and not now. He can't leave Night alone he can't let it end like this after finally doing something he can't.

And just as thoughtless as he went to get the axe, as on instinct as he threw it — there was no hesitation when he bit into the apple and ate it whole.

Dream felt his insides explode in an inferno. The icy water washed out immediately and he gasped.

It was hardly any lasting salvation after that split-second relief, since it just slammed him onto the opposite end of a different extreme.

Whispers and shouts of terrified people from too far away overtook his head and he felt his head hit the ground.

The pain of his tiara digging into his skull shot him back up right after and at last, he recovered enough to comprehend the scene before him.

He couldn't name the emotion he felt once laying eyes upon the tree that used to be an oppressive behemoth with a crown of ever expansive leaves, now reduced to nothing but a wilted piece of wood, but it made him let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The negative whirlwind of voices reached its peak when his brother's voice broke through, screaming for help.

Bellow the now dried trunk, Night was shoved to the ground, a pair of pitchforks that had no business being pointed at him loomed threateningly above.

Bad call.

A weapon. Dream needed a weapon.

With the axe out of the question, he summoned his staff — one he created not that long ago as a part of a bit to cheer the little guardian up after one of his more visible beat downs — but quickly realized he needed something more lethal.

With the seemingly endless surge of power the apple gave him, in a flash of light, the staff turned to a sword not a second before it was stabbed through a human's chest.

Dream paid the stuttering body no mind aside from making sure it or the pitchforks didn't fall over at his brother, and he swung to the opposite side. This time only cutting a wooden handle in half, yet still staining the person holding it with blood not of their own.

He could barely control the force of the swing until it ended up logged in the bark of a tree. He fought to pry it out, and thankfully he had plenty of time to do so as the crowd quickly got the memo to stay away.

Stained sword still threateningly in one hand, Dream went to grab the bag left untouched despite the mob formed around them, but stopped when noticing the two black apples sitting in it.

Pacing himself, he went for the blanket instead, rolling it up and barely managing to stuff it inside with shaking hands. Next, he grabbed Night's latest book, since that's one he definitely has yet to finish reading, and he somehow managed to shove it on the side of the bag as well.

He felt the eyes on him, the oppressive presence of the people, the poisonous sting of negativity in his soul, the silent terror of his brother, and he couldn't be more tired of it.

Good thing all of this will be over soon, and that he won't have to ever return to this place ever again.

A corridor of terrified people split before him after he double checked all of the stuff he gathered, let go of his sword, and finally helped Night off the ground who looked like a stunned bug rolled over on his back.

Wordlessly and hiding under his cape that made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the darkness of the place, he grabbed Dream's outstretched hand and let him guide them both down the hill with little resistance, which the hedgehog was glad for.

No one said a word, not even a whisper was heard as the two guardians eventually disappeared on the horizon. Where were they going? No one knew, no one got to ask, and no one even thought about it enough to know.

Aside from death, there was a pair of shackles he left on that hill, and Dream was not gonna miss either.

#sonic the hedgehog #dreamtale #huhuhehahaaa #its done #the main bulk of the story is doneeee #yippie yaaaay :D #i already started making some shit up in the following up to this idea #perhaps one day it will see the light of day....#Remeber kids whenever you're unhappy with your life #murder your mother and run away from home without a single carefuly though out step or consultation with your bother youre planning to drag #Also I feel like this was uh. poorly explained — the reason the tree rotted so suddenly was similar to the og story in which Nightmare acci #but unlike the og story #here was because of confusion and dread (and little feeling of betrayal wink wink) upon having his brother acting like a cryptic bitch seem #And tbh also tied to a little brain bug given me by a Tumblr post abt how Nim wasn't exactly the best mom #Oknyea I'm done yapping I hopes you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!!!#miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic #sonic and tails #dreamtale nightmare #dreamtale dream #me does arts #me when I finish writing #over the hills #dreamtale and sonic tomfoolery

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clairecrive · 1 day

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Hey there, I got an idea for a request Alfies secretary is a quiet girl and Alfie is always flirting with her he loves to make her cheeks blush red. And one day she finally becomes brave and says something flirty back to him and he gets all flustered first as he wasn't expecting it and then he's like "fucking hell" with his cheeky grin and makes his move while he has the chance and gives her the best kiss of her life💖

A/n: Hello everyone!! It's been ages since I last wrote anything, let alone for Alfie. However, lately I 've been right down obsessed with him again and couldn't fight the urge to write for him. I found this in my inbox and I'm so so sorry it took me this long to write this!

I'm not going to tag anyone because I don't even know if there's still anyone reading this blog lol. but let me know If you want to be tagged.

MASTERLIST

"Cat and mouse"| Alfie Solomons x reader

"Hello, luv."

"Hello, Mr Solomons."

"Ah, pet how many times do I have to tell ya, eh?" You had been working for Alfie for a while now. Enough time to make you a trusted employee. Even more than that actually. if his relentless flirting was enough of tell.

By now, you were on first name bases. But even though Alfie was quite outspoken about his appreciation of you, the only way you told him it was somewhat reciprocated was by flushing furiously whenever he flirted with you.

It wasn't enough. Not anymore. And while Alfie was patient and respectful of your shy nature, you were done with this cat and mouse dance. You wanted him. You're just waiting for the right time to go for it.

"There's Mr Shelby waiting for you in the hallway, should I let him in?"

Alfie groaned at the name. You knew it was only to keep up his burly grumpy man persona he got going on. Deep down, you thought he didn't mind Tommy's company much.

"Only if you come in with him, pet. I need something beautiful to look at to survive that fucking bore, right?"

Blushing at the insinuation you nodded before going to let Mr. Shelby in and retrieve pen and paper. This was actually part of your job description. Alfie's request was more because he was a flirt and he liked to see you flush.

Nothing but charm in his vein, let me tell you.

"Ms. Y/N will be with us so she could take notes and whatnot, I hope you don't mind Tommy but to be fair, I don't give a fuck if you do, right?"

"She always does Alfie." Tommy drily pointed out while lighting a cigarette.

"Yeah well, I like to be surrounded by beautiful things, don't I?"

"So do I, Alfie. So do I." Tommy agreed

"Alright gentlemen, if you could stop flirting with each other and move onto business please. Mr. Solomons. has a packed schedule, as I'm sure you have as well Mr. Shelby." Rearranging the papers and documents in front of you, you dressed the two men. You knew that they could go on for while like this. Especially alfie had a way of talking for hours without actually saying anything. It made for a perfect business strategy but you knew that he actually needed to settle things with Tommy.

The brume acknowledged her with just a light tilt of his lips while your boss sputtered in shock.

"Fucking hell, pet. What the fuck are ya on about, eh?" He looked at you, and you could see that other than the shock for your outrageous implication, there was actually surprise in his eyes. And then a pleased glimmer.

You only raised an eyebrow at him to silently suggest to just get on with the meeting.

"Fucking women, eh Tommy? Wild creature they are, I tell ya. You never can guess what's on their fucking mind, can ya."

"If you'd get on with it, then maybe you'll have enough time this evening so that I can tell you over dinner."

You had never seen Alfie Solomons speechless. Hell, you had never seen him be silent for more than one minute. You bet that he talked even in his sleeps.

Well, would you look at him now. Eyes wide and mouth almost open. If you hadn't just taken a huge leap out of your comfort zone, you'd find this situation funny.

Tommy Shelby probably did.

"You know what, Alfie? I'll come back tomorrow." And with just a tilt of his head in your direction, the brummie was off and out of Alfie's office.

Meanwhile, Alfie was still looking at you. Which was making you nervous. And when you were nervous, you tended to rumble.

"What? Is it such a preposterous idea?" you said being defensive.

"Fucking hell, pet. Didn't know you had it in ya."

"You're not the only one who can flirt, you know." You mumble, suddenly shy.

"Of course, not. And I fucking hope you're not going to stop either." He smirked at you. Pushing away from his desk he turned so that he was completely facing you.

"Now, why don't you come here and show me exactly what's on yer mind, eh?"

Burning. Your cheeks were burning red by now. But you did exactly what he said. You got up and you walked so that you were now facing him.

With him sitting down and you standing in front of him, you were almost the same height.

You didn't know what to do with your hands, with yourself really. That sudden burst of courage was long gone now.

Taking you in, Alfie could see that as well. Smiling, he gently pulled you even closer to him.

"We could wait 'till dinner and even after that, pet y'know? There's no rush, yeah?" He softly promised. He had been flirting with you for months after all, what's a few more weeks or however much you needed?

"I don't want to wait anymore, Alfie. I just don't know what to do." You looked at him under your lashes, all bashful and cute and Alfie could barely restrain himself.

"Then let me show ya, right?"

Gently cradling your face, Alfie leaned in. He let his nose touch yours in a gentle caress so that you had time to pulled away if you wanted to.

Then, when you didn't he finally kissed you.

It was gentle and soft and, in your opinion, the best kiss in the world.

#alfie x reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tom hardy #fluff

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chaptersleftunwritten · 8 hours

Text

Where you left me

Based on that Twilight scene… this is rather short and not my best work. I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing. Life has been stressful. Enjoy, M’loves!!

Blurb: Vecna is coming for Eddie and to keep you safe… he has to leave.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort. Angst. Talk of death. Relationship break-up.

You met him where you always did. At the old rickety picnic table that was close to wood rot and had outlived your grandparents by at least a decade. It was buried deep between the thick weighty trees of the forest.

It was your spot. Yours and His.

A secluded place you could always count on; a safe haven you could flee to when the world got too much.

But something about this time set your nerves on end. The spontaneity of the meeting left your palms feeling clammy and your knees jittering with every half step you take toward Eddie’s perched frame.

His head hung low from his shoulders- he looked like a defeated warrior. Done. Packed up and ready to go home. Leaving the battlefield of lost souls burning behind him; his suit of armour covered in blood.

“Ed’s?” Your voice is punctuated with the crack of twigs and the crisp of fallen leaves beneath the rubber soles of your sneakers. You avoid sitting down, too afraid of the conversation that may follow and your eyes settle on the shrunken brown pine needles that coat the wooden table. Autumn is upon you.

The mere sound of your voice is enough to cause Eddie to scatter to his feet; clearly he had been awoken from a deep, dream like trance.

“Hi, sweetheart.” One of his hands palm at the back of his neck nervously whilst the other is draped across his abdomen as he hugs himself close. It’s something you had caught him doing whenever he was uncomfortable; or whenever he was afraid.

And you felt puzzled more than anything else, because why would Eddie— your Eddie, be uncomfortable around you?

“Is everything alright? You seem—“

“Everything is fine. Or it will be…” he takes two steps back from you, his normally soft brown eyes are sharp and alert as they take in the forest that you are both submerged in. You hadn’t seen Eddie like this before. So withdrawn and skittish.

“Thank god,” You let out an airy wheeze that could pass as a laugh, “For a moment I thought you might be breaking things off with me…” it’s your turn to pull your coat tighter around your frame. All of a sudden you feel the growing cold temperature around you. It’s as if this had been prophesied and even the weather knows something horrible is about to happen.

The clouds darken in colour and a ominous shadow is cast wide across the forest and its surroundings. Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet and a frustrated groan hits your ear: shrill and heart wrenching.

“Eddie? What’s going on?” You dare to ask.

“I… I have to leave. I have to leave town.” He can’t meet your gaze. Because if he does, if he allows himself to be swept into your glossy saucers of pure love and soul, he won’t be able to leave. He won’t go. He would stay and fight and protect you.

But if he leaves, you are automatically protected. Without all of the blood. Without the loss and the grief. He could protect you from afar. He had to leave you. He had to break your heart. Or he would come for you…

Vecna would come for the town. He wasn’t willing to take that risk.

Your life for his. That’s what he agreed.

“Okay… okay, well I can come with you.” You protest confidently and slightly excited, inching closer to Eddie’s towering frame, “I can think of something to tell my family and… and… where did you want to go?” You gulp, becoming restless, “Why do you have to leave?” You couldn’t understand. You couldn’t understand unless he told you.

“No.”

You freeze at the sternness in his voice. Your throat running dry.

“I said I’m leaving. Not we. Not us.” He looks at you for the first time since you arrived, “I don’t want you to come.”

You blink your wide eyes silently, your brain is like a wild fire and all you can seem to mutter is, “Did I do something wrong? I can be better… I can change. Please, Eddie. You can’t… you can’t leave me here.”

Your pleas cause Eddie’s chest to wind into a tight knit and hot iron like tears to prick at his eyes like sharp pins. He wanted to envelop you in his arms and tell you how sorry he is and how perfect you are for him. You didn’t need to change a single thing. He loved you. He loves you.

But he couldn’t.

He had to break you.

He had to make you hate him.

“You can’t change my mind.” It surprises Eddie just how able he is to keep up this painful facade without bursting into a puddle of tears and crumbling to your feet to beg for forgiveness.

“Please—“ you’re tearing up now and it makes Eddie hate himself more.

“I don’t want you anymore.” The words slice at his throat on the way up and it’s as if he is choking on his own blood, “I’m not going to tell you where I’m going because you’ll follow me.” Only now is he able to take a few steps toward your quaking frame. You have managed to suppress the tears, but Eddie knows how deeply he has just wounded you.

“I won’t survive without you. Eddie— Ed’s. Don’t… don’t do this to me. Please.” Your cold face becomes slicked with warm tears and Eddie bites back what he really wants to say.

‘I’m doing this because I love you. I’m doing this because I need you to be safe. I need to know that I have a future with you in it. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I love you… I love you…’

Eddie settles for a pathetic, “I’ll see you again.” And you stand as still as a concrete statute, afraid to move and hoping that this is all just one massive nightmare. You feel the warmth of Eddie’s arms engulf you and you are sure that when you reopen your closed eyes that you’ll be at home. In the comfort of your plush bed. None of this would have happened. Eddie wouldn’t have left you, “I’m sorry, love.” He plants a chaste kiss to your hairline and his lips linger before they disappear completely.

And he does abandon you. When you open your eyes you are standing alone. Cold to the touch. Freezing. You swear you can feel ice crystallising on your skin and your fingertips feel as stiff as rock.

You don’t move. Still you don’t move. You can’t. Your brain is screaming but your mouth remains sewn tightly shut. You are in shock.

Despair. Gloom. Caught in a trap that you can no longer escape from.

And just when you think you have finally mustered the strength to take a step forward— just when you believe you can run into the night and call after Eddie.

You collapse to the frozen dirt with a harsh thud and a teary wince.

The first noise to leave your mouth in minutes is a scream.

A scream as hot as malted lava. A scream that leaves your throat bleeding and raw. A scream that’ll leave you voiceless.

A scream that becomes a cry. A cry that becomes a sob.

And a sob that becomes slumber. You fall asleep on the dry and stick covered ground of the forest. The last thing you see before you succumb to the darkness is the looming trees that tower over your lowered and huddled frame. They shelter you from the brewing storm.

But they couldn’t save you from a torn heart.

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfics #fandom

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lottesreads · 23 hours

Text

Why Me? - Part 12

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, mentions of nightmares, mentions of PTSD, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, therapy (we love), mentions of death/being sick, mentions of limb loss (it'll all make sense),

Word Count: 9500

Summary: Everyone prepares for the storm, and you're left with a lot to think about as some forgotten feelings come back.

A/N: Hiiii guys, I am so sorry this took SO LONG. For some reason it was so hard to write and school started so ya know how that goes. But hopefully this makes up for it?? I love all of you and as always I hope you enjoy

p.s. you know I love to hear what you think, so fire away

Masterlist

Bob knows he messed up. He knows that, and as much as he wishes he never put you in this situation to begin with, he can’t undo what he said. Things have just gone completely downhill since he told you how he felt and it just…. feels like it’s all his fault. You’re quiet, secluding yourself, and almost scared at work now. But there’s not much he can do if you refuse to open up to him. He can’t help but worry for you, but it’s up to you now. If you want to talk to him, great. If not, he just hopes you talk to someone else.

The wind has slowly been gaining speed since early this morning when he took Sylvia out for a run. It was his last chance to get her out of the house before the shit hit the fan and he wasn’t gonna keep her cooped up anymore than she had to be. He’s been in a daze since yesterday. Can’t quite seem to focus on anything he puts before him, including the several garden gnomes and pieces of porch furniture belonging to his neighbors.

“You sure all of this will fit in the garage?”, he asks while carrying a chair down from the front steps.

“Oh I’m sure”, Rich replies. His eyes have been more focused on placing their gnome collection inside the house, but he’s been making room for everything else in the garage. He’s skeptical as he eyes the rest of the room, they’ve still got to fit their cars inside, too. He’s sure if he moved a couple of those storage bins to a higher shelf he’d be able to-

“You’ve already done enough for us, why don’t you come inside for some sweet tea, huh?”

“I’m ok”, he tries to brush him off.

“I’m not taking no for an answer Bob”, Rich offers with a raise of his thick eyebrow. Bob gives in, like he does most of the time with these two, and follows Rich inside. Harry sits at the table as he wraps up the rest of their pointy-hat clad lawn ornaments, but pauses at the sight of his husband.

“How’s everything going out there?”

“We’re just about done”, Rich responds from behind the fridge door, “I thought we deserved a water break.” Bob laughs to himself, he really hasn’t done much except move a couple pieces of furniture. He probably could have been finished by now if they didn’t keep offering him water or tea.

“Oh that reminds me”, Harry turns to his husband, “We need to bring the hose from the side of the house in. I forgot when I finished watering the garden yesterday.” Bob isn’t able to take one step in the direction of the door before Rich urges him into the seat across from Harry.

“Don’t you worry about that one young man, I got it.”

“It’s really no trouble-”

“I insist, you take a seat and drink your tea. You can take a turn listening to Harry complain for once.” Rich slides a glass of sweet tea in front of Bob before patting Harry on the shoulder and stepping outside.

“I just wish I could help you boys more”, Harry starts. “But ya know the leg starts acting up whenever a storm is coming.” He emphasizes his point by tapping his metal prosthetic onto the side of the table, shaking it the slightest bit. Bob’s never sure if he’s talking about the actual prosthetic hurting, or what’s left of his leg, but at this point he’s too scared to ask. All he knows is that whenever he gets a call from Harry early in the morning, there’s bound to be a storm before the day’s over. This time however, he got his weather from the news, like a normal person.

“So-”, Harry starts as Bob takes a swig from his glass, “Are we going to be seeing Miss Mitchell anytime soon?” The sweet tea halts in Bob’s throat, sliding down the wrong tube and causing him to choke on the beverage. He does his best to not drop the glass onto the table in order to stop himself from spraying the drink everywhere, but Harry looks like he could care less as his brow raises. Bob clearly was not expecting him to bring you up, and Harry’s squint gives into the fact he’s happy to catch him off guard.

“I’d make an assumption, but I’m not quite sure how to make one out of that kind of reaction.” Bob continues trying to clear his throat by coughing, but Harry waits.

“No”, he chokes, “She uh- she won’t be coming by anytime.” Harry hums to himself as he turns back to the bubble wrap.

“That’s too bad. She was quick, I liked her.” Me too, Bob thinks to himself. He just gives him a slight frown at the news. “Seemed like you were pretty fond of her, too.” Bob’s cheeks heat up at his insinuation, and he tries to make a run for it.

“Ok! I should probably go help-”

“Sit back down”, Harry groans. Bob begrudgingly does as the man says as he begins to toy with the condensation forming on his glass. “All I’m saying is, you both obviously like each other. What gives?” All he can do is shake his head at the thought. There’s too much, but maybe he’ll understand.

“There’s just a lot of other stuff involved.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Well, for starters her title isn’t ‘Miss’... it’s Lieutenant.” Bob’s gaze flicks over to watch Harry’s eyes widen in realization.

“Shit. Is she a WSO, too?”

“Nah, she’s a pilot”, he smiles, “A damn good one.” Harry chuckles as he crosses his arms.

“I shoulda known.” Bob furrows his brows, silently asking him to explain. “She just had this look in her eye…Can’t really explain it.” Bob knows the one. The silent determination he sees whenever you climb into the cockpit. No matter what happens on the ground, once you ascend that ladder… you’re focused. And no one can take that away from you.

“So that’s it then? You're just gonna let her go?” Harry probes as Bob shakes his head. He focuses on a grain of wood in the table, avoiding the man’s gaze.

“It’s against strict rules”, Bob shrugs, “I don’t want to be the reason she gets into trouble. It’s better if we just leave it.”

“Is it?” Bob grabs his glass of sweet tea and takes a sip before Harry leans forward in his seat, “If I know anything about you Bob, it’s that you’ve got a level head on those shoulders. And from what I can tell about Lieutenant Mitchell, it’s that she does, too. But you can’t forget underneath all of that, you have hearts. You can’t leave that out of the equation.” Bob stills as he taps his finger on the rim of his glass. Yeah, Bob has a heart, but you do, too. And who knows if deep down this is what you really want? If he’s what you really want.

His thoughts are interrupted by Harry once again, this time as he finishes wrapping up the last gnome.

“Mitchell, huh?” Bob mindlessly nods. “You don’t happen to know if she’s got any family who served, do ya?”

“Yeah, actually. Her dad just happens to be our captain. Pete Mitchell-”

“Maverick?!”, Harry all but yells. “That cocky motherfucker’s still in service?” The front door slams shut as Rich makes his way back inside.

“What cocky motherfucker are we talking about?”, he asks as if this is a normal topic of conversation for the two of them.

“Pete Mitchell”, Harry tells him as he stares at Bob in awe.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time”, Rich replies as he grabs himself and Harry their own drinks. Bob pivots in his seat as Rich brings both glasses to the counter, eyes wide in shock. “Don’t tell me-” He’s obviously already made the connection as Harry nods at him. He simply shrugs and continues to pour their drinks, brushing off the fact that Harry seems to be stuck on. Something he thought Rich of all people would want to talk about.

“Did you fly with him?” Bob directs the question at Harry. He rolls his eyes.

“For a very brief time. He’s a few years younger than me, but always acted like he was the best of the best. Didn’t even win the goddamn Top Gun trophy.”

“Well”, Rich chimes in as he sets the glass in front of Harry, “That wasn’t entirely his fault.” Bob’s eyes unintentionally squint as he tries to think back on what he actually knows about your dad. There’s very limited information he sought after Hangman revealed he flew with Rooster’s dad, and- then it hits him.

“Wait”, he stops the two men, “Were you guys here when they had the accident?”

“I wasn’t”, Harry responds, “But Rich was. He was actually one of the-” Rich’s hand claps down on his husband’s shoulder, effectively stopping him from finishing the story. He grants Bob a forced smile.

“I was. It was a… a very sad day.” Rich keeps moving, leaving his glass of tea untouched as he moves the box of packed up gnomes to the living room. Bob leaves it at that. If there was more to the story he wouldn’t want to probe where he’s not welcome to.

After helping move the small outdoor coffee table into the garage, he insists on parking their cars himself. Just to make sure he did leave enough room for everything to fit. And with his many years experience with Tetris, he’s able to pack anything that the wind might sweep away into safe hiding spaces for the night.

-----------------------

If the puffy eyes that greet you in the mirror are any indication that you’d been crying, the wad of tissues scattered around your trash can would certainly do the trick. It was an ugly cry, one that you realized was futile to resist against the snot dripping down your nose. You’d cried more in the past couple months than you had in the past five years. Not to mention you haven’t cried to the point where you kept a roll of toilet paper to use as tissues next to your bed since you were a teenager. But even then you had mastered to cry in silence, to not alert anyone or “bother” someone with the noise of your anguish.

It wasn’t a question that was the reason for your headache. You even forgot you got hit in the face until you tried wiping the sleep from your eyes, only to pull your hand away as soon as it brushed near the red and purple bruise.

“Son of a bitch”, you muttered as you made your way to the bathroom. The wind howls outside your room as you splash your face with cold water, hoping to reduce the swelling before inevitably seeing your father. Gently, you wipe your face with a towel, taking a good hard look at the aftermath from the night before. You huff out a breath before tearing your gaze away from the mirror, gathering the tissues you’d thrown half-heartedly in the direction of the trash can the night before.

Your father is already up and moving as you descend the stairs. Granted, you did allow yourself to sleep in today. He’s sitting on the couch, slipping his shoes on when you make eye contact. He immediately smiles with a grimace upon seeing your face.

“Hey sweetheart”, he greets you, “How you feeling this morning?” You simply scoff and turn to the kitchen. The coffee machine is still warm, your dad already having at least his second cup of the day.

“Like I got hit in the face”, you respond. The machine hums while you let it work, and you grab an emblazoned Navy mug from the cabinet. You turn to lean on the counter, watching him finish lacing up his boots. “Where are you going?”

“Well, Penny’s moving everything at the bar and I figured since I took care of our stuff yesterday, I’d go help out. Plus it’ll be my last chance to take the bike for a spin this weekend.”

“And they say chivalry is dead”, you comment as the coffee seeps into your cup. He chuckles and makes his way over to you. You turn, mug in hand as he walks up. He grimaces again at your face, but his shoulders slump as he notes your puffy eyelids. “How’d you sleep”

“Alright”, you mumble.

“I can stay here if-”

“Dad”, you groan as you roll your eyes, “What am I, five?”

“No- but I’m just saying, if you need me I’ll be here for you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine.” He seems unsure as he glances between you and the front door. “Go”, you urge him, “Be a knight in shining armor.” He laughs again as he bids you goodbye and leaves. The rumble of his motorcycle tapering off as he exits the neighborhood.

Truly, you are fine. You’re not great, but you’ve been worse. In fact, this is probably the most down time you’ve had in a while. If you were still talking to Bob you would probably text him and see what he was up to, but alas. There’s not much to do except waste away for the rest of the day. Which is exactly what you do. You turn the t.v. on and throw your feet up. They almost hit the large box Bradley left yesterday. You guess you could see what’s in there for you, but you’re already so comfortable and it's just so… far away. And soon enough, your eyes are drooping shut again.

-----------------------

The day passes by painlessly as you switch from folding laundry, to eating whatever is left in the fridge. Your headache slowly dissipates with every bite of food and drink of water, but as it gets closer to evening, the noises from outside get louder and louder. A leaf from a palm tree being ripped from its home and hitting the side of the house, ran pattering, and thunder booming in the distance.

Deciding you’ve had enough of scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you move back to the living room and turn on something you can watch without much thought. The cardboard box Bradley brought over still sits on the coffee table, and huffing out a breath you decide to take the lid off. There’s a bundle of old photos, a couple of dirtied up baseballs, and an old envelope you move to look at, but your phone rings before you can inspect it further. Your dad’s face appears on the screen and you swipe to answer.

“Hey dad, what’s up?”

“Hey kiddo, listen, there was a lot that needed to be boarded up and taken care of at the bar, I just barely got back to Penny’s. I know everything’s taken care of at the house, but the wind and rain are picking up. I don’t want to leave you alone, but it might be safer just to spend the night here. Are you gonna be ok?”

“Dad, I'll be fine. I’d feel better knowing you’re at Penny’s rather than driving your bike in the storm.” You can hear him sigh on the other end. Even with your permission you know he still feels guilty leaving you.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I swear. I’ll be fine.”

“Ok sweetheart. Promise you’ll call me if anything happens or you need me, ok?”

“I promise”, you can’t help but smile through your words at his protectiveness.

“Alright, well I love you, and hopefully things will slow down and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Love you, too, dad. Bye.” He bids you goodnight, even if it isn’t 8 o’clock yet, it feels like much later with the storm clouds covering up any chance of dying sunlight.

Turning back to the box you pick up the envelope, there’s an unexpected weight to it and you hold your breath at the sight of Carole’s handwriting. There’s one word on the front and it’s simply labeled “Bug”. Your once steady hands shake as you trace the folded edge that has been sealed for almost two decades. You can’t open it fast enough, but at the same time you’re hesitant to see quite possibly what her last words to you could be. Slipping your finger under the seal, you try to minimize the damage as it rips open. As if it were an extension of the woman herself.

Inside sits a lined piece of journal paper, folded neatly into thirds. But your eyes linger on the item weighing it down as you huff out a breath in disbelief. Your fingers reach inside, and once completely taken out of its hiding place, a silver chain with a butterfly pendant hangs from your hand.

With the necklace still wrapped around your fingers, your eyes water as you reach for the note, unfolding it. The paper shakes as your heartbeat quickens. And her voice fills your head while you trace the all familiar cursive with a featherlight touch.

My Darling Bug,

Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice this found its way back into my possession? I don’t know why or when you did this, but I thought I told you it wasn’t mine anymore. I gave this to you for a reason, Bug. I wanted you to know that Bradley, your dad, and I will always be with you. I think you might need it now more than ever. It might be a little different, but I don’t want you to look at it and be sad I’m not with you. I want you to look at it and be happy that I still am, no matter what.

I know I made you promise me to be brave. And you have kept that promise, so if you think you haven’t, you’re wrong. But maybe I should have worded it differently, because you don’t need to be brave like anybody else. I want you to continue being brave like you. Because I know you are. Even so, I want you to remember how I got this necklace in the first place. It all happened because Goose was brave enough to ask. He taught me that being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared anymore. It means that even though you are scared, you do it anyway. You don’t run from it, you face it head on. He always told me I wasn’t born with the fear part of my brain intact, but he was wrong. When we lost him, I knew for a fact that part of my brain was there. I was so scared, but I knew I had to keep going. If not for me, then for Bradley and your dad. Heaven knows your dad was scared out of his mind, but that’s what makes him one of the bravest people I know. He kept flying, and then soon enough, you came along and changed our lives completely. And I know I’m rambling, but I just need you to know how much you mean to me- to all of us.

So I don’t want you to live your life in fear or with regrets, wondering the same things, so please; continue to be the brave girl I know you are. It’s hard to take those first steps. But it is so worth the risk, because you deserve everything good this world has to offer.

And this may or may not make it easier, but I just ask that you take this back and wear it with pride. I will always be with you, bug. And I can’t stand another moment having this sitting in my jewelry box, collecting dust when you can wear it and put it to much better use. You deserve it. I love you very much, don’t forget that.

P.S. I know Bradley’s a big boy and he acts like he can take care of himself, but I know he’ll need you just as much as you need him. Same with your dad. Be there for each other.

-Love, Carole

You move the letter away from under your face as you feel the tears start to fall. You’re just quick enough as they hit your lap instead. The necklace is now safely encased in your grip as you take in a ragged breath. All this time- You can’t stomach the thought. This entire time, these past 16 years you’ve been separated from this last piece of Carole you never even knew existed. And the necklace you thought was lost to time now sits in your palm. You hold on to it. Tight.

You still don’t let go as you gingerly place the letter back in the envelope. Deciding you need to put these two things in a safer spot than your living room, you walk up to your room and go to the shoebox above your closet. Inside, you move the velvet box with your Academy ring to the side, making room for the letter. You almost place the necklace in with it, but you’re not going to disobey Carole by not putting it on the next chance you get.

With the silver chain still wrapped in your hand, you put the shoebox back, just about tripping over your flight suit in the process. In everything that happened yesterday after therapy you must have forgotten to put it in your laundry basket, or hang it up at least. As you pick the jumbled green fabric up, your ears prick up at the sound of something hitting the floor. The gleam of a copper coin catches your eye and you drop your uniform altogether, opting to pick it up instead.

Carole’s words swirl through your head as your heart rate picks up. You stare at the penny in one hand, and open your other to reveal the silver butterfly. The memory of Bob’s crooked smile fills your senses and your heart beats faster again. There’s a phantom ache of his hand cradling yours, gently placing that first penny into your palm on the tiled floor of the locker room. Even before you kissed there was this urge to want to get to know him from deep inside the dark recesses of your heart. From places you thought you blocked off and boarded up after your last boyfriend. You left no room for weakness, no room for anyone to have the upper hand, but yet, you feel safe around Bob. You still do, even after it tore you to shreds resisting that same urge to talk to him, to look at him. It scares you, how after only meeting him a few months ago, it feels like he knows the darkest parts of you, and still wants to learn more. To care for you in a way that you haven’t let someone in a long time. And you want to do the same for him.

That urge sends chills up your spine as thunder booms in the distance, the once small patter of rain picking up as it hails on your roof. Clenching the penny in your fist, you delicately hold the necklace in the other, and you swear the lightning reflects off the silver butterfly, almost winking at you. In the glint, you hear Carole’s voice from when she first gave it to you, and again through her writing. “Be brave”, her whisper echoes. And in that moment, your heart beats louder, anticipating what you know you’re going to do next before your brain has the time to catch up. Placing the necklace on your side table next to your bed, your feet sprint down the stairs the moment the chain leaves your fingers.

You can hardly differentiate the thud of your feet from the thunder that is somehow getting closer by the second. Throwing on the nearest jacket and lacing up your shoes, you grab your keys and head to the garage. Your old faithful Toyota lays dormant as you jump in, and start the engine. Or at least try to. It sputters a couple times as you turn the key again, and again.

“No, no, no. Please”, you plead as you take a deep breath, holding out hope as you try one last time, “C’mon!” With a final twist, the engine roars to life. “Yes! Thank you!” The garage opens and closes with the click of a button as you peel out of the driveway, probably a little too fast, but who would be crazy enough to be on the streets in these conditions?

The rain doesn’t stop on your account, and both hands are white knuckling the steering wheel as you attempt to maintain the little control you have of your vehicle over mother nature. Your windshield wipers are moving as fast as they can, but it’s little to no good as you traverse the streets. You might have been better off with a canoe.

Nonetheless, you’re so close. Your destination is only a couple blocks away, practically in sight as your car lurches forward, sputtering, before ultimately slowing as you pull to the side of the road.

“No, no, no, are you kidding me?!”, you scream as you hit the steering wheel. She was doing so good! What happened? Placing the car in park, you remove the key and try again, but nothing. Squinting through the rain pattered window, you make out the street sign up ahead as it sways in the wind. This is ok. You can do this. Clenching your jaw and ensuring your phone is buried deep in one of your pockets along with your keys, you push against the gusts of wind and open the car door.

Your face is immediately pelted with ice-like bullets, raining down on you without mercy. Even with the hood of your jacket on, it does no good as you run across the sidewalk and turn down the street. A few house lights are on, but you can barely see as the rain washes over you in sheets. A gust of wind almost gets the better of you as you try your hardest to hold the hood to your head, creating any kind of cover you can. You are so close to throwing in the towel. So close to going back to your car and hiding away until the storm is over. But you didn’t come this far just to turn back. You will not give up.

Shining just a bit brighter than every other house on the street, your destination is in sight. Just one block and your feet make the decision for you to move faster. To run like you never have before, because this time you’re not running from anything. You’re running towards something. The rain hits you quicker, but it’s hard to feel it soak through your clothes as your feet pound against the pavement.

Your shoes slip on the step to the front door, and your fist meets the entrance much sooner than you were expecting. It creates a loud knock, but there’s no sign of life behind the door. Gaining your footing back, you knock once more. Nothing. You knock twice again. Damn it. He must not be able to hear you through the storm’s havoc. You don’t care anymore, you weren’t thinking when you hopped in your car, and you aren’t trying to stay out in the rain all night. Your knuckles are knocking repeatedly on the door, and that’s when you hear Sylvia bark. She’s getting louder as she moves closer to the door and you continue your knocking, hoping he’ll hear you over her.

“Please, c’mon”, you mutter to yourself as your teeth chatter against the words. Your knuckles are going raw from the sheer cold and the fact that you’ve been hitting them against the door for what feels like 20 minutes. The door opens with a rush of warm air and you’re greeted with the halo wrapped face of someone who only feels like warmness and comfort. The light shines around his features as they contort at what stands in front of him.

“Mantis, what the hell?!”, he yells through the wind while reaching forward to pull you inside. “Oh my god, are you crazy?!”, he exclaims as he holds your arms in place. Your teeth are chattering as he tells you to stay put before coming back with a towel that he promptly throws over your shoulders. It doesn’t do much good as you’re soaked to the bone, but he’s frantically looking for more before you reach out for him.

“Bob-”

“What are you doing here?!”

“I- I’m being brave”, you explain through the pounding rain and thunder. He pauses just for a moment, then shakes his head as he stares at you in utter confusion.

“Did you.. run here? Mantis, are you ok?”

“Bob I’m fine-”

“Do you know where you are? How did you get here?”

“Bob!”, you finally raise your voice and he meets your gaze instead of your rain-drenched form. “I will explain everything, but please just let me say what I came here to say”, you breathlessly supply. He looks back to you, hesitant, but nodding to let you continue.

“Ok”, he whispers. You can barely feel your fingers, or your toes for that matter, but your shaky hand reaches into your pocket and grasps onto the single penny you came here with. The only thing that you made sure to bring.

“What did you mean by this?”, you ask as you hold it out in front of him. “When you gave this to Phoenix, what did you want me to make of this?” His eyelashes flutter in a series of blinks as he silently takes in a breath. Without meaning to, the coin shakes in your hand, and he rushes an answer before you have to stand there any longer.

“It means what it’s always meant. I know I messed everything up, but I still want you to feel like you can trust me, and talk to me. Because you can. I know how scary it can be, and it’s…rare to find someone you feel so comfortable to be around and talk to about the nitty gritty parts of your life. And I like to believe I was that for you for a little bit, ‘cause… you were that for me.” Your heart melts at his sentiment as you continue to drench the walkway of his home.

“Now can you please tell me why you drove here in the middle of a hurricane?” You swallow, hoping whatever fears you have fall to the back of your throat to make room for what you need to tell him. Because, here you are: Soaking wet, standing in Bob’s home, with nothing but a penny and the knowledge that even if you’re scared, you can do this anyway.

“Bob”, you sigh, “You have not messed anything up. In fact, you did something I was too afraid to do.” Taking another deep breath, you ignore the lines riddled in his forehead and continue.

“I have been scared for most of my life. I know sometimes I act like I’m invincible, but I’m not. But I am also sick of being scared. I am sick of pretending. Life is too damn short, and for once instead of just acting like I am, I am trying to be brave. I can’t let this be another ‘what if’. I won’t let you be that. You deserve to at least know how I feel.”

“Mantis, you don’t have to-”

“No, but I want to”, you nod with authority, solidifying to Bob that this is a risk you want to take. You take in another deep breath as it fills you with courage. “Bob, it’s hard to explain, but- you make me feel brave. But at the same time you also scare the shit out of me”, you can’t help but laugh as the crease in his forward melts a little bit. “You scare me because you care so deeply for the people around you, and you’re so generous, and kind, and I can’t help but want to be around you all the time. And- and I’m rambling aren’t I?”, you ask as he breathes out a miniscule laugh. And then you’re gifted with the slightest uptick of his mouth. Just enough for you to know that he’s still listening. But when is he not?

“Anyway. I just- it kills me that you think so lowly of yourself, and I need you to know that I care about you. A lot. And if it hasn’t been blatantly obvious by how I’ve kissed you”, he blushes and looks down at his feet as if he didn’t kiss you with just as much passion, “I like you beyond the point of being friends. And- I feel like you see me. Not just as an aviator, not just as a woman, but as a person. But that’s also scary in itself because you’ve seen my flaws, and each time you didn’t look away. You stayed. You stayed and made sure I didn’t stay down.”

“You didn’t need me for that”, he shakes his head. And you smile through your shaky breath. “You don’t stay down long.”

“Maybe not, but it’s easier to get up when someone lends you a hand.” He stills at your words and your mind tracks back to find the courage you came here with. It’s not hard when Bob’s standing right in front of you with Carole’s voice running through the back of your mind.

“I’ve tried brushing these feelings off, and staying away from you, thinking I was doing what was best for the both of us. And… I don’t know about you, but it’s only been like two days without talking to you- and I miss being around you.” The tell you’re about to cry starts with your throat straining, and at this point you’re trying everything to talk through it. “I don’t want to mourn you while you’re still here-”, you choke out as you clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering any louder than they already are.

“Hey”, Bob whispers as he moves closer to you, “It’s ok-”

“I don’t want to lose you when I’ve never even had you”, you breathe a shaky breath as he places his hands on your shoulders, the warmth permeating through your jacket and towel.

“Whoa, where is all this coming from?” Your breathing is rapidly increasing, as he stares down into your eyes, concern painted through the way he looks at you. That and something else you’re too hyped up on adrenaline to identify at this moment.

“It’s ok, just breathe for me. Can you do that?” You nod as you stare back at him, his hands reaching out to grasp your own, placing one on his chest. Just like he did in the locker room. God, it feels like it was ages ago.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing”, he mutters as he puts both of his hands atop your own. Your fingers thrum over the soft cotton of his shirt, and you’re almost certain his heart is beating just as fast as your own.

“Your heart’s beating really fast”, you comment as you watch your fingers underneath his.

“Are you sure that’s not your own?” You exhale a laugh, but continue to feel that familiar thump from his chest.

“No, that’s definitely you.”

“Yeah”, he manages a nervous smile, “That usually happens when I’m around you.” Your hand is slowly gaining feeling back under the protection of his own, and your eyes meet his. He whispers your name softly, and this time you don’t flinch. You don’t break away, you don’t blink. Your teeth are still chattering, the noise distracting him from whatever he was going to say.

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes, yeah?” Silently you nod as he gives you a brief smile. He’s seemingly already accustomed to the idea of you staying the night, something you didn’t think of before running out of your own house. Taking your hand in his own, he leads you to the bottom of his stairs before jogging up to what you presume to be his bedroom. You wait as you attempt to clench your jaw to stop chattering your teeth, but that’s when you spot a shiny black nose poking out from the corner of the living room.

“Hey Syl”, you whisper while bending down. She retreats almost immediately at the sight of you, but reappears at the familiar voice. You realize you must look kind of scary with your jacket hood plastered to your face. In an attempt to get her to come closer, you peel your hood off of your head and tempt her again with your outreached hand. “It’s just me sweet girl”, you whisper as she moves forward to sniff your hand. Her tail starts a wag at the appearance of your face and you smile as she gets close enough for you to pet her head.

You’re scratching her ears as Bob returns from upstairs, now carrying clothes for you to change into.

“Ok, I’ve got some sweat pants and a t-shirt”, he explains as he sorts through them, “But I do have a sweatshirt in case you’re still cold.” He shifts his attention back to you as you stand and accept the clothes with a quiet ‘thank you’. Without the hood obstructing his view of your entire face, his brow immediately furrows at the shadow just to the side of your eye. He doesn’t get a good look at it before you’re turning to change in the bathroom. He must be seeing things. A shadow from your hair, the dim lighting, it just can’t be what he thinks it is.

Peeling your wet clothes off your body was something you didn’t think about while sprinting full speed down Bob’s street. But here you are, in his downstairs bathroom, admiring the softness of both the shirt and sweatpants he’s offered you. You’re soaked right down to your underwear, and rather than sitting uncomfortably in a wet bra and underpants, you decide to go commando. If you get cold enough Bob did offer you a sweatshirt. Tossing your wet clothes over the shower curtain, you slowly walk out of the bathroom. It’s quiet. Other than the occasional rumble of thunder, or whip of wind and rain against the windows, the only thing you’re aware of is your own breathing. Until you get into the living room and find Bob picking at his thumbs on the couch. He doesn’t notice you, and for the first time tonight, you hesitate. You run your fingers over the bottom of Bob’s shirt, holding it out slightly in front of your body. Just admiring how quickly he offered his own clothes to you. Your hair is slightly damp, but not dripping like it was moments ago, thanks to the towel he gave you when you first came in.

He must hear you shift on your feet, because soon enough his eyes follow your form in his clothes, the pants tight in some places, loose in others, but the large t-shirt does its job. He stops on your face as you give him a nervous smile and make your way over to the other end of the couch.

“Oh my god, what happened?”, he all but rushes out as you sit. His eyes are frantic with worry as you trace his concerned gaze to your cheek.

“Oh that”, you try to laugh, “It was an accident.” He swallows while he stiffens in his seat. Bridging the gap you left between the two of you, he catches your gaze as you look down at his hand.

“Mantis”, his voice darkens, “I need you to be completely honest with me.” He’s staring so intently into your eyes you feel like you’re center stage in a show you weren’t given the lines to. A kind of intensity you’ve never seen directed toward you from the man. “Did somebody hurt you?” You’re stuck in your spot, and without hesitating you answer him.

“No”, you breathe as you softly shake your head, “Bob, I promise you it was a complete accident. I was playing catch and wasn’t paying attention.” He eyes it one more time, and you see his hand twitch in his lap before it slowly makes its way to cup your face, turning it to take a better look. You hold your breath at the movement, but once his thumb strokes lightly over your skin you melt into his warmth.

“Well whoever you were playing catch with knows how to throw a pretty wicked fastball”, he mutters as he takes in the bruising along with the indent of the stitching.

“Yeah”, you sigh, not able to say much as he holds the weight of your face and much more in his gentle hand. “Rooster was a pitcher on his high school team.”

“You were playing catch with Rooster?” You let out a breathy laugh, knowing how confusing this must be.

“It’s a long story”, you tell him. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“And he still threw it at you?”

“I try not to make sense of Rooster’s actions anymore.”

“Next time you wanna play catch, you come to me. Ok?” His eyes are still on the bruise, analyzing it from every angle.

“Are you saying you won’t throw the ball at my face?”

“No. I’ll make sure you’re ready first.” His smile fades the tiniest bit, but his hand has yet to move. It’s quiet again until a particularly loud burst of thunder has him dropping his hold on you.

“Um, let me get you some ice.”

“I’m fine. My face, feet, and hands are pretty much still numb.”

“May I?”, he asks, reaching for your hands. You’re facing him now, and he turns to mirror your own crossed legs as his hands clasp your own. Slowly, without looking back at you, he brings them closer to his face and before you have the good sense to realize what’s going on, his warm breath fans over your dead fingers. Something flips in your stomach as he starts rubbing his thumbs over the back of your palms after each slow and agonizing breath.

The contrast in temperature hurts your fingers down to the bone, but you can’t seem to take them away from Bob. He stops the breaths just for a second as he rubs your hands in contemplation.

“Mantis… Why are you here?” You’re almost certain your swallow is audible as you stare down at your joint hands. He doesn’t push you when you don’t immediately answer. He only continues to soothe your aching extremities. But when he starts breathing on them again and his glasses fog up slightly, that’s when you truly start to feel the discomfort seep from your fingers. And that’s when you know you have your answer for him. Because he will truly put your needs before his own. His clothes on your back, his sight for your warmth, his happiness for your own. But he doesn’t quite know the true extent of your own unhappiness without him in your every day.

Your answer sits on the tip of your tongue, but truly, your brain speaks before you can formulate the words you need him to hear.

“I went to therapy”, you blurt out as you stare at him. God, why can’t your mouth just say what it needs to? Why is this so hard? Bob looks at your face at your admission, blinking away his shock at the volume at which you spoke them.

“That’s- that’s great.” He goes back to rubbing your fingers, ruminating on your words, then stopping suddenly. “It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it?”

“No!”, you’re quick to correct him. “Not at all.. I mean it wasn’t your fault, but I did talk about you a little bit”, you admit bashfully. He nods, seemingly drawing his own conclusions. “It wasn’t anything bad. Just-”. You’re hesitant to tell him about your dreams, about why your dad called him that day. Why you were so fidgety and couldn’t even look him in the eye. But then you look back at him, and you know everything will be ok. He won’t run, or look at you with pity. He might be concerned, sure, but he’ll still be there for you.

“After Nat’s party, I had a nightmare. I haven’t had one in years, and it kind of rattled me. And then I had another one. They usually happen after I feel like I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. Something that would- make my mother mad at me.” He stiffens at your words, brows drawing up once more. He knows. And you don’t want him to blame himself. “But yeah, I got back in touch with my therapist. Gonna make it a regular thing now… but after my session she asked me to list three people who make me feel wanted. And it was very clear to me you’re on that list. And I hope I make you feel important, too. I know I haven’t this past week- and I’m sorry-”

“Hey”, he tugs your hands toward him just enough to get your attention, “You had enough going on, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“But I do. I can’t help it.” He whispers your name and averts his gaze from your face like he can't even bear to look at you right now. You didn’t think this was news, last time you were here he told you essentially the same thing.

“What?”, you whisper back.

-----------------------

Bob did not imagine even in his wildest dreams you would run to him in the middle of a storm. But here you are, pouring your heart out to him, your hands in his, his old t-shirt draped over your shivering body, but there’s still that tiny part of his brain telling him it’s too good to be true. And in reality, it is. Because what is he supposed to do now? What did you hope to achieve by coming over here? Your feelings don’t change the fact that this is still wildly against rules in place.

It might have been easier for him to deal with it on his own not knowing exactly how you felt, but now? He can’t put you in a position for someone to take your dream away from you. Especially after how much you’ve had to sacrifice to get to where you are. And there’s still so much for you to do.

“What do you want me to do with these feelings?” He finally asks and you’re caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- a few days ago when you came to me you were so sure this wasn’t a good idea. And now?” He searches your face for an answer in your silence. “What changed?”

“I found a letter from Carole. It was meant for 12-year-old me, " you can’t help but release a watery laugh, “but she just reminded me that some things are worth the risk.” You pause for a moment, squeezing his hands for reassurance before continuing.

“Our jobs are dangerous, and even if they weren’t, life is so precious. And I don’t want to continue breathing if I’m only half-living. I already did that, and I refuse to do it again. And I’m not asking you to do anything with what I’ve told you, I just had to let you know. And that might be selfish, but I know running from what I’m feeling isn’t fair. To you or me.”

It’s quiet again, you’re not sure if Bob is looking at you anymore, but your eyes are drawn back to his hands. One of the single greatest comforts you can’t help but indulge yourself in. A flash of lighting pierces the corner of your eye and the boom of thunder follows shortly after. It almost bleeds into the rasp in his voice as he speaks.

“Is it selfish if we both want it?”. Your eyes snap to meet his and you’re hit with that intensity again. It’s slightly masked by insecurity, but you can see how much this means to him. You’re so sure he can hear you release a sharp breath.

“What do you want-” Your thought is cut off by a deep rumble of thunder, almost shaking the structure of the house. You flinch as if the roof were about to collapse on the two of you, but you’re not catching a break as the remaining kitchen lights click off.

“Damn it”, he mutters under his breath. Bathing you and Bob in total darkness, you instinctively squeeze his hands and he squeezes right back.

“It’s ok”, his voice echoes as he tries to see anything around the darkened room. Sylvia whines from beneath her hiding spot as he blindly searches the coffee table for his phone, petting her in the process to calm her nerves. With his phone located, he turns the flashlight on and you wince at the harsh white light. Sylvia continues to whine even as she scurries out from under the table and runs up the stairs. He runs a hand through his hair as he stands and you’re left in his absence. Goosebumps crawling up your arms and legs force you to shiver and Bob sees it out of the corner of his eye.

“Here- you can take my bed. It’ll be way too cold down here.”

“Bob, no. I’ll crash on the couch”, his mouth opens to protest but you stop him before he even starts, “Plus, I think your daughter might need you up there.” He moves his hands to his hips, deliberating his choices until he eyes you.

“I mean- we could always, ya know…”

“What?”

“We could share my bed. It’s not like we haven’t already slept in the same bed together- Not that I’m assuming you want to! But it’ll keep you extra warm if we’re both there, and that way we’re in the same room and-” With a soft smile you cut off his rambling.

“I think that’s a great idea.” That crooked smile graces his face for the first time in what feels like forever, and your nerves are put at ease. You want to be the reason he smiles like that for as long as you’re able.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He silently leads you up the stairs and offers to let you use the bathroom first while he tries to tidy up the mess you hopefully didn’t see through the lens of your phone’s flashlight.

There’s not much, just a couple of dirty shirts he didn’t have the time or energy to throw into his laundry basket. And then there’s the laundry basket of clothes he was going to fold today, but got distracted at Rich and Harry’s. Shoving the basket in the corner of the room, his eyes catch on the rain-pattered window. Palm trees sway in the wind, and thanks to a flash of lightning, he watches the street run like a river. He squints, trying to find where you parked your car, hoping the damage won’t be too bad.

The click of the door opening has him turning to you, brows still furrowed.

“Hey, where’d you park your car?”

“Oh, that. Funny story”, you laugh, “It stopped running about a block that way-”, you point up the street, “And I kinda ran the rest of the way.” His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as you stand there chuckling.

“Mantis”, he sighs, “Why did you think any of this was a good idea?”

“I wasn’t really thinking, I just knew I had to talk to you”, you bashfully admit. A flash of lightning reflects in his glasses, and you’re brought back to your conversation downstairs. Your unfinished conversation. The hairs on your arms raise before Sylvia whines from underneath Bob’s bed.

The two of you glance back and spot her nose peeking out from under the frame. You’re on your knees, petting her head as Bob stands at the window.

“It’s ok sweet girl”, you coo. With the two of you distracted, he takes a minute to finish getting ready for bed. God, he just can’t believe you’re actually here. Granted, he wishes it was under better circumstances, but still. Stepping back into his bedroom, he’s pleased to find you already underneath the covers, your back facing him. His heart speeds up at you already so comfortable in his bed, but he gathers himself quickly before turning to close the door to the room. The bedroom the two of you are currently sharing… with his dog lying on his side of the bed.

“Before you say anything”, you rush out as you sit up, “She got up here all by herself, and I don’t have the heart to tell her to get down. So you’re just gonna have to look into those big brown eyes and be the bad guy here.” He bites down a smile as he pretends to deliberate on what he should do. Not giving in and telling you that she normally sleeps on the bed with him.

“Plus, I don’t think she’ll be as scared if she’s up here with us”, you add. With us. Yes, that word just came out of your mouth. And it might not be a big deal, but you just used that word and Bob is having a hard time not pinching himself to make sure this is all real and not another dream. Clearing his throat, he manages to cough out a “yeah”. Or something akin to agreement.

He starts to settle onto his side of the bed, and you scooch as far away from the middle as you can. Sylvia moves down the bed in between the two of you and you finally lie back on your respective pillows. You can hear his glasses hit his bedside table as his hand falls to Sylvia. There’s an unspoken tension in the room, and you’re not sure if you can wait until morning to break through it. But neither of you say anything. You just lie there like a lifeless body whose heart is also about to burst through her chest.

Another flash of lightning slices through the curtain, followed almost immediately by a horribly loud boom. Sylvia whines again and your hand falls to her. You knew his hand was there, but it doesn’t stop the shock at the feeling of your fingers brushing his. As your hand swoops over Sylvia’s fur he almost moves back as you stop. But that single touch in the dark makes you want more. So with a clear mission, you bring your hand back over her fur and start to slowly trace his knuckles and fingers. His hand turns over, inviting you to do the same to his palm before he halts your motions and instead intertwines your fingers. He’s still so much warmer than you are, and your hand melts in his. It makes you feel safe.

You don’t say anything as his thumb rubs your hand. The two of you lay in the backdrop of rain and thunder, staring at the ceiling as if it had some kind of hidden message you have to decode. Bob must find what his side says because he clears his throat before speaking.

“What you asked earlier, about what I want- I want you to be happy. Above anything else.” Your heart turns over as you face him.

“I want that for you, too… But you should know you make me really happy”, you whisper into the night. His hand flexes as his pillow rustles to your right.

“You mean that?”, his voice is clearer as he turns his head, and although you’re having a hard time seeing through the dark, you can imagine the look of fear and insecurity in his eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“Cause you make me happy, too”, he rasps, his voice somehow even deeper. And you just can’t help the way you move closer to him. Reaching with your free hand, you hold onto his bicep and rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomes it with a relaxed sigh as you get comfortable. Sylvia doesn’t seem to mind being squished in between your legs, and you’re happy for the warmth these two provide you.

There’s still a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out as to what happens next, but right now? You can’t seem to care what happens tomorrow because you’re content to hold onto Bob tonight. And as you feel him kiss the top of your head, you get that deep butterfly feeling in your stomach. The good kind this time. No overwhelming urge of anxiety or doom washes over you and you know everything is going to be ok. It has to be.

-----------------------

Hey Siri, play Fearless by Taylor Swift

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