#he literally built metal with his own hands

[chaoswithcausation]

what is with the Robotniks and giving their manufactured children red eyes

#Once can be on accident #(Shadow) #Twice can be a coincidence #(Metal) #But three times is INTENTIONAL #(Sage) #esp in sage and metal’s cases #like I would buy that Gerald didn’t know for sure if his ultimate lifeform project would have red eyes #but eggman designed metal and sage all himself #he literally built metal with his own hands #sth #shadow the hedgehog #metal sonic the hedgehog #metal sonic #sage the ai #sage robotnik #dr robotnik #doctor robotnik

[marvellous1917]

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky #bucky barnes #mob!bucky fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #tattoo artist!reader

[werecreature-addicted]

Ok I’ve seen some art that I have for my idea of my mateeee

So the year is like 2046 or something, and robots are everywhere, but everyone treats robots like slaves and horribly. But you’ve always been nice to robots, this one robot took notice at work (a work assistant robot)

And it would stalk you,

Always assist you,

And unknowingly get knowingly flirt with you.

And it would go against its own code just to do what it wants with you,

YANDERE PLEASE, AND NSFW

they are 6’9

Good lord he's horrific <3

CW: Dubious consent.

----

You didn’t understand how people could be mean to robots. Sure they weren’t human- but I mean. They were close, right? You had no idea how some people could say please and thank you to you but would sneer and mock your robot coworkers. And that’s what they were, coworkers, not “assistant droids”. Anytime one of the droids reaches something off a top shelf for you or brings you a cup of coffee you’re sure to smile politely and thank them. 

This behavior gets you a lot of attention. Not only from your human counterparts but the robotic ones as well- or at least. One robotic one. You sound crazy trying to describe it to anyone else- your personal assistant droid is too attached to you? He’s too eager to help? That’s what they do, they’re supposed to be there for you, what are you complaining about?

But there's something different about this one. The way he follows you with his eyes, it raises the hair on the back of your neck. And the way he literally follows you- he needs to be told multiple times he can’t go with you into the bathroom and- no just because you’re taking work home doesn’t mean he can go home with you too. They aren’t supposed to leave the office building but sometimes he still does, even if you don’t notice. And then there’s the touching. It’s subtle, innocent. When he brushes his metallic fingers over your forearm.

You’ve never though of robots as “creepy” before but, you sort of get it now, he’s tall, almost seven feet in height, and impossibly strong. Robots aren’t supposed to be able to hurt humans, but if he some how broke through that restriction in his coding… it would be so easy. 

Still. You do your best to be polite, and kind even to the Andriod that sets you on edge, and just try and get work done. But your performance starts slipping. It’s hard to focus on your job when you always have to keep looking over your shoulder. You end up spending staying late at the office more and more often. 

It’s weird working late in an office staffed by Robots, it’s not empty, but it’s quiet. They don’t talk when there are no humans around. Accept, of course, for your Assistant Droid. 

He stands in the corner of your office and stares at you. Most robots stare off into space when they aren’t in operation, but this one specifically always looks at you. 

“You seem stressed,” and the sound of his metallic voice almost makes you jump out of your chair. You want to tell him you are stressed- and that it’s his fault. You can’t focus on your reports when you can feel someone watching you. But you don’t  

“I guess so. These late nights are starting to get to me,” you admit. 

“Let me help,” it wasn’t a request but a demand. He was already standing up, and moving soundlessly to your side. 

Before you can say anything, he’s rubbing your shoulders. his hands feel… weird, not bad just… not human. 

“You’re still so tense… let me take care of you,”

“You don’t need to”

“It’s my purpose. Let me,” he insists and starts running his hands down your body. You protest weakly, but he ignores you… which he isn’t supposed to be able to do. You’re frozen as he trails his large metal hands up your legs, he’s no longer pretending to massage you and just blatantly groping. 

“You feel so soft,” he praises as he pushes your skirt up over your hips. “Let me make you feel good,” again, it’s not a request, you know some Robots are built to facilitate pleasure, and that they’re made with genitals, but would this one? This robot was an assistant. 

But he doesn’t need a cock to make you feel good, in the same way, he doesn’t need a heart to love you. He pushes his fingers inside of you and doesn’t stop hammering away at your cunt until you’re gushing around his hand. 

“Such a good girl, cumming just like I wanted you to… there, now you’re less stressed, didn’t that help?” he’s looking for praise. 

“W-we can’t do that again, I could be fired if I got caught- in the office,” really you feel guilty that you let a robot finger you at work… not that you let him touch you. He pulls back and nods. 

“Understood. Next time I’ll be sure to be somewhere private when I take you,”

#monster fucker #teratophillia #monster imagine #robot x reader #robot x human #robot smut #yandere #yandere x reader #fem reader #tw dubcon

[shockedemojiatsv]

▪︎■☆ Worship⛧🩸 ☆■▪︎

(Part 1.)

☆ 🔞!!VIOLENT AND VULGAR!!🔞

☆ cult!Miguel ohara / forrest monster/cryptid! Reader

☆ a little gift for @miguel-owhora !!

☆ violence is written in this work of FICTION. Things such as infant deaths or death in genera

☆ Hi!!! So I'm sorry for not writing as much but I've been verrrryyyy very busy‼️ (laughs and throws myself off a cliff) any who! Enjoy this little thingy!! I'm still in love with dad's cryptid AU after all this time 💕

°○☆Violence under the cut☆○°

Blood. Metal rust. And other animalistic things that would have a normal camper running for their lives. Then dying. Not out of some beast or an accident. But out of exhaustion. Limbs failing. Eaten away by the very grass of the ground only to be picked up by another predator.

Any normal person would run away. Any normal person would have thought twice before doing something stupid in uncharted woods.

Miguel was different. He was a cunning man. Frighteningly intelligent. Charming and observant and curious. Leave him in the woods with nothing and he's already built a somewhat stable community, sheltered and protected by... something out there. Something unexplainable. Something... you.

This was your forest. From the very beginning. Your memory is hazy of how your form, reeking of the more purer forms of mother nature herself, birthed upon the world to reek order. Not havoc. Not peace. Just a simple balance that you maintained for centuries.

You followed nobody. You didn't need to. And you killed if necessary. Or if you simply wanted. You had free will. Unbound by anything. Literally. Not even any mental constraints could keep you from moving through the night unexpected. Unlike any kind of animal the the world has ever witnessed.

Miguel was a different man. When he came into your forests, the winds tasted like he or his sheep didn't deserve to die. Unlike every other settler or founder who decided to try to poison your grounds.

You let him be. His little village growing with the so called refugees he gathered. Creating houses with the trees surrounding the area.

Surprisingly, they weren't greedy. They didn't chop down every tree they laid their human hands on. Because Miguel didn't allow them to. And you were greatful for that. But you paid no mind to his existence. Other than killing of unwanted organisms. But Miguel, or his sheep never dare trek past the space you let them in. And if they did, they didn't make a mess of their tracks.

Respectfully respecting the environment. Respectfully Respecting you.

Time went on and you continued to observe Miguel and his little underlings carefully. Usually under the darkness of the night. They seemed obedient to Miguel. You could smell a mixture of fear and adoration, and that drew you closer to him. After all, this was your domain. And you had the right to dive deeper into the minds of these obedient critters worshipping you in a way.

One day, Miguel comes along bringing a surprising, pleasant little gift. From out of his own home, he creeps towards the darker shadows of the village. Where the trees grow tall and strong. Uncut and left alone.

An infant. Brought to your feet. An offspring that smells very familiar with Miguel's species. Only, it's cold. It isn't breathing. You can't hear it breathing. Its wrapped in grey sheep's wool and it smells fresh. Like it had died the moment it escape the womb first breaths being its last. And he leaves it there on the mossy rock in front of the trees and walks quickly back to the safety of his own home.

A few hours pass. You're intrigued at the gift. You haven't received such offerings in centuries. So when this, frail human being offers a dead infant like a gift for the altar, your curiosity gets the better of you.

You snatch the child. In yours jaws... or your arms? It could be anything. You were an indescribable creature manifesting the more chaotic sides of nature after all. The little infant, you've seen it all before. Chubby, quite noisy, fragile. And most importantly, delicious. You cannot explain the slightes, but in all of your years of being in this realm, despite not having the needed nutrition you'd usually intake, human offspring has a certain charming flavor. Something you'd feast on with gusto. Maybe it was the fact that through the cycle of life and death, you've always defied both aspects. And the loss of something brought to this world so sudden felt like experiencing the gifts to be caressed upon your tongue. Consumed. And valued.

Miguel does this more often. Leaving you gifts. Little sacrifices. Whether it be piles of wheat or fish. Or, on other days when one of his "sheep" go disobedient, you find their corpse carefully gifted in the same spot on the mossy rock. Like a gift. A gift for your generosity of giving them their home, and protection. Your little gift mauled and torn apart limb by limb and licked ever so viciously. In a graceful matter. Until there was nothing left. Not a spec of blood or bone.

You favored Miguel out of the rest. And it's obvious as to why.

Miguel was a curious man. Perhaps a little too curious, so to say. So when he comes out with his little gift at night rather in the morning and stays there, waiting for you, you waste no time to throw him onto the ground. Your weight practically crushing him. And you bite his neck and drink his blood. A taste of the person who's been so devoted to... amusing you. He tastes like any other ordinary person you've eaten before. Salty. Metallic. A little sweet. But his flavor is laced with sheer utter adoration. Rather than fear. Curiously, you drink a little more. And in fact, he doesn't push you away. He doesn't grab his weapon and attempt to cut your throat. He fully accepts it. He holds you while you take your fill of his own crimson fluid.

And you don't kill him. You leave him there as you disappear into the woods. And he's even more insatiable.

#🤯 writes #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel ohara x mreader #Miguel O'Hara #spiderman 2099 #Monster x reader #monster x human #top reader #dom reader #atsv #atsv Miguel O'Hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse miguel ohara #spiderman: across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #reader

[ghost-proofbaby]

if it were anyone else (e.m.)

warnings: strong allusions to depression, disordered eating/rough relationship with food, mentions of smoking, description of a sort of panic attack. very sad. hurt/comfort? not edited.

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: this is literally entirely self indulgent and written entirely after i sat and cried and thought "i wish i had eddie here right now to hold me". maybe in like thirty minutes tops. this is for me and only me. go figure lol. sorry. yeah. anyways.

if you relate, my askbox is always open, and i'm very sorry you've felt this way as well. i hope you all take care of yourselves. drink some water, call a friend. be kind to yourself.

“I’m worried about you.” 

Four words that always manage to strike a certain type of fear in your gut. You don’t know how to react as he says it, how he wants you to react. You can only stare blankly, you can only wish harder for the earth to swallow you whole.

“What do you mean?” you laugh nervously, following it with a hard swallow.

You’re playing dumb. You know it, he knows it. The tremor in your bones and your numb appendages know it, too. 

“You’re…” Eddie stalls, licking his lips, letting his eyes rake over you, “You’re getting bad again.” 

You’re quick to shake your head, forcing another hollow chuckle from your chest, “It’s not that bad. I’m fin-”

“You’re not fine.”

The look in his eyes could crack your spine if you stare too long. Wet eyes, a trembling bottom lip, worry lines etched into his forehead that you realize might be caused by you.

You’re causing him worry. The last thing you want to do, you’ve accomplished. You’re on a fast-track to becoming a burden – the first step is always acceptance. 

You’re still unsure of how he wants – no, needs you to react right now. This conversation is a landmine for both of you, and you hold every breath with every step as you try to navigate it. If you make one wrong step, it could cause an explosion that spares no survivors.

You don’t mind if it tears you apart limb by limb. You do mind if it hurts him. 

“How… How do you know that?” 

It’s not a sarcastic snipping or defensive deterrence. It’s an unfiltered response of genuineness – you want to know the signs, you want to know what has exposed the rot this time.

And then, maybe next time, you’ll be able to better shield it from him with this knowledge. 

“How could I not?” he takes a deep breath in through his nose, and you focus on the flare of his nostrils rather than any of the tears beginning to gather at his waterlines, “It’s been happening for a while now, though, hasn’t it?” 

Your throat is a cage, tight and restrictive and ringing with a bitter metallic taste in its tenseness. You can’t respond with words. You can only nod. 

He chooses to answer your question more properly now that you’ve admitted it, “You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground. Picking up distractions like they’re going out of style.”

“Hey, they might be. We never know-” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet his. Now’s not the time for jokes, “Sorry. I… I know. I’m sorry.” 

He’s right. Fuck, he’s right. 

“I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly,” his own steps across these landmines are just as delicate, just as feathery light, as your own. You hear it in his tone, see it in his body language. You wish your body could sink into the mattress you’re sitting on the edge of as he crouches in front of you, warm palms connecting with your knees. Grounding you. Tethering you. Holding you back from that sinking you crave. “Are you… Sweetheart, are you okay?”

If anybody else had built up to such a stupid question, you would have laughed in their face. You would have shoved those warm palms right off of your skin and you would have thrown up those ice cold hands of your own, shouted obviously not. 

Obviously not. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay, it’s a bit comical. I am drowning. I am treading in freezing cold waters and I am barely capable of keeping my head above the waves. My engine is fucked, my tank is empty. I don’t think I’d even know how to be ‘okay’ again if you did manage to pull this mangled body of mine from these depths and sat me down on safe, solid ground again. 

You can’t say any of this, though. Not because you don’t trust him, not because he would judge you. But because the moment he asks the question that should make you scoff, you let out a sob instead. Something like a muffled, broken wail that tears from deep within you. It had already been ready and poised, laying in wait for a perfect moment like this one to escape. 

His eyes aren’t the only glossy ones anymore. 

“I-” you start, breathing already stuttering and chest already constricting, “I- I-”

“Hey,” he palms smooth up your thighs, carrying their warmth with them, as if he were trying to spread it across you. As if he had heard your thoughts. As if he already knew all about those dark, treacherous, freezing waters you were stranded in. All you can do is spew out another cry, strangled as you tried to swallow it down before it entered the atmosphere between you two, “Hey.” 

You only notice the tears when you crumple forward and he meets you halfway. Those warm palms, those hands so capable of safety and promise, cup your cheeks and his thumbs make quick work of swiping away the salty streams. 

“Hey, baby, breathe for me,” his voice is tragically gentle, “Just one deep breath, okay?” 

To demonstrate, you watch his chest expand dramatically, his hands forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

You can’t see through the bleariness. 

“C’mon, sweetness,” he encourages again, “One breath. Just one.” 

If it were anyone else, you’d turn into a fit of rage at the coddling. You’d break everything in sight. You’d scream until your already burning lungs finally collapsed as they’d been yearning to for so long. 

But it’s him. It’s just him, it’s just Eddie. 

His chest rises dramatically again, and this time, yours does as well, albeit through stifling hiccups. You’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the flood of emotion that was wrecking you. 

“There you go!” his voice rises ever so slightly, and when you flinch a bit at the sudden volume, he retracts, “Sorry, sorry. But that’s it, sweetheart. Another one, okay?” 

Another breath. Another sob. Another wave of all the pain you’ve been battling off. 

You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground.

He was right and it fucking killed you. None of those are things you could ever shield him from. You didn’t have the heart to pull away those numb and icey fingertips every time he’d reach out for your hand, or try to cover the shivers that managed to rack your bones even in the middle of summer. The sleeping situation had been spiraling, a pendulum of sleepless nights that would end in a sleep so deep that you could have been mistaken for resting with the dead. Maybe the smoking you could have hid, especially when you’d been so boastful about quitting. 

You weren’t running yourself into the ground. You had already collapsed into the dirt, you had already joined the worms. You’d buried yourself alive, six feet under, and nothing could have stopped him from sniffing out that scent of decay on you. 

The death of a soul and mind. The death of the thing that had propelled you forward for so long. No amount of sweet perfume, or hour long scalding showers, or minty gum to occupy your mind rather than a proper meal, can erase that stench. 

You never could have shielded him. He always saw right through you. Always had, always would. 

“I’m sorry,” you end up crying out. 

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you echo the words again. Over and over, on repeat, until he’s rising from the ground. Until he’s sat beside you. Until his arms are suddenly encasing you and you’re awarded a warmth you didn’t feel deserving of. 

He doesn’t smell like the decay you’d surrounded yourself with. He smells like slow waking in the morning, dreary and calm and at a reasonable time. He smells like warm baths that only relax your bones, and don’t have to blister your skin in the process. He smells like three meals a day, all comforting and all effortless and that never linger with a sense of regret.

He’s not decay, never even treading close to death. He’s home. He’s the promise that you could be okay. Even if it isn’t right now. 

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, squeezing you tighter into his chest, not even blinking an eye at the patch of wetness you leave behind from where your cheeks bury against him, “Never apologize. Ever. Not with me, sweetheart. Keep the sorries. I don’t need them.” 

If it were anyone else, the holding would have suffocated you. But it’s him. It’s Eddie.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you fully into his lap, situating the two of you comfortably on that mattress. 

You don’t know how long you let him cradle you like that. How much of that time is spent filled with your cries, or how many breaths he gently urges you to take with him. He never once has to verbally say what you already know; he never once promises aloud that it’ll be okay. He doesn’t put that pressure on you, not yet. Not today. Not when he knows the journey to okay is still such a long one. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers to you instead, “I’ve got you, now, sweetheart.” 

If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t believe them. 

But it’s him. It’s Eddie. 

And he’s got you, for now and for as long as you need.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson comfort #idk what this is #i hope it flops because fuck is it personal ! #i wrote very quickly and did not edit it lol #like my own personal diary entry or therapy session #bleh #very niche and doubt it's relatable lol #but i'm unwell and what good am i if i can't make content #if nothing else #i can create #still good for something maybe i don't know #at least something not awful can come from this storm

[celestial-toys]

Paralyzed

As your shift in the daycare came to a close today, something triggered a terrible panicking trauma response in you. You've locked yourself in the storage closet in an attempt to get away from it all. When Sun eventually manages to get the door open, his heart breaks at the state he finds you in. Cue 4k words of ensuing caretaking and comfort.

Pairing: Sun/Reader/Moon Word Count: 6,014 Contains: [NSSI/Self-Harm] [panic] [PTSD] [crying] [emotional & physical hurt/comfort] [bandaging wounds] [undressing (not the sexy kind)] [caretaking] [cuddling] [literal sleeping together] [established relationship] [GN!Reader]

“Sunshine? I know you’re hurting right now… but you need to let me in there with you so I can help…”

A faint rattling comes from the locked doorknob, shortly followed by silence.

You barely hear it from where you’re slumped, back against the far wall of the pitch dark supply closet.

You’re far too consumed in your own suffering to even consider the impact of your actions right now. You have to make these feelings stop. You have to make it all go away. You can’t take anymore today.

Through your panicked haze and ragged breathing, your ears barely pick up on the faint sound of metallic tinkering, and Sun’s muttering on the other side of the door.

“Oh, for heavens sake… why does the supply closet even have the ability to lock from the inside in the first place?”

Your panicked breaths come faster and faster, until you begin to feel lightheaded from it all. The pain of your memories. The fear of whatever trigger had set you off this time. The shame of causing Sun such distress, having to see you like this.

You told yourself you’d never let them see you in such a state, yet here you fucking are. Trembling and soaked in sweat, tears, and snot, curled up on the cold tile of the supply closet floor.

It was bound to happen eventually, you suppose. You could lie and say you were doing better but this always comes back to drag you down again eventually.

You register the sound of a bolt shifting, before a few small screws fall down and roll across the floor in different directions. You watch the door creak open slightly, and thin, long robotic fingers snake their way around the edge and take hold of the loose doorknob before it can fall and clatter to the floor.

You feel your stomach drop at the knowledge that your time in hiding has come to an end. The door swings open slowly, the daycare’s bright lights casting into the room. The light makes a path all the way across the floor, from the open doorway across to your darkened form curled uncomfortably in the back, like a wild animal, cornered.

You lift your head enough to glance at him and you catch the sight of his silhouette, backlit in a way that has him looking more intimidating than he likely realizes. You instinctively curl back down into yourself and miss the way he subconsciously shrinks in on himself when he sees your apparent fear.

He’s the last person on earth that you should fear. He just wants to help you. He was built for this, wasn’t he? Taking care of the vulnerable?

Why’d they have to make him look so terrifying, then?

He pushes his own thoughts aside, his hand curling around the doorframe in search of the light switch. He quickly locates it, flipping it up and flooding the room with fluorescent light.

The proper sight of you breaks his mechanical heart.

Your hair is an absolute mess and your clothes are all bunched up around you as you’ve contorted yourself to take up the least amount of space possible. Like someone was trying to hurt you even though you were alone in here. He doesn’t even need to do a full body scan to tell that you have been hurt, actually. When his optics pass over your left hand, warning signs flash across his vision.

Injured. You’re injured.

In his daycare. Under his supervision.

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Not you. Not like this. Not ever.

He has to fix it. Fix you. Make it better.

Yes. Yes, he can make it better. He- he can fix this. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You have to be. He… needs you. They both do. You have to be okay.

They’ll make it better.

You keep your head tucked away into the pulled-up hood of your jacket, waiting. You don’t even know what you’re waiting for, exactly. Yelling? Screaming? Panic? Anger? Disappointment? Rough hands, grabbing, pulling, hurting you again?

If you were thinking straight right now you’d know this isn’t necessary. You’d remember where you are, and who you’re with, and that you are absolutely safe here. Sun and Moon wouldn’t ever lay a hand on you in anything other than love. Their touches don’t hurt. Neither do their words.

You’re not thinking straight right now, though. Your mind is somewhere else entirely. Completely caught up in the past, your mind replaying all the bad that you’ve ever encountered, like it’s trying to teach you a lesson you already know. Trying to warn you of a threat that is no longer there.

Sun slowly lowers himself to the floor and makes his way over to you on all fours in the least terrifying way he can.

His voice is about as quiet as he can get it to go but you still flinch when he breaks the silence.

“Sunshine, are you here with me right now? Can you hear me?”

You’re about halfway here and halfway gone, to be completely honest, but you manage to nod your head, the movement stiff and jerky. Your muscles are all so goddamn tense it’s a wonder you can move at all.

“Do you think you can take a deep breath for me?”

You try to, and fail miserably, the air catching in your throat and coming back out as a choked sob. Gods, you can’t even breathe right, can you? You shake your head vehemently, tangling your messy hair even further in the process as you start mindlessly muttering apologies between short, quick breaths.

“I’m-I’m sorry…  I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry…”

Sun’s hands flex open and closed, held firmly down at his sides to prevent their urges from taking over and just allowing himself to scoop you up into his arms the way he wants to.

“Hey… e-easy, love. There’s no need for apologies here, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Your tears pick back up again at that, voice accidentally coming out in a sudden shout, only muffled by the balled-up sleeve you’ve brought up to try and hide your face.

“YES I HAVE! I-I-I don’t know what… but I must have done something… something to end up like this.”

It’s getting harder for Sun to close out of the numerous warning pop-ups that flood his vision. His voice is a bit more strained when you hear it again.

“No-no-no not at all! You haven’t done anything to make this happen. This is just… something that happens sometimes, yeah? And-and-and I’m here now to help you through it!”

He eyes your left hand again, lying lifeless on the cold tile beside you. It’s completely red and swollen, with long, angry red lines running down along your forearm and the back of your hand. He knew he’d heard the sound of repeated, dull banging when he first discovered you’d locked yourself in here, but he hadn’t wanted to think about what you might be doing to yourself.

He’s gonna find out now, though.

Losing yourself in your panic again, you shakily pick your stiff hand up off the tile, balling it into a fist as you bring it up just to slam it back down on the cold, hard floor with as much force as you can possibly muster. Sharp pain runs through your wrist as the already swollen joint is forced to take the impact of yet another hit. A hiss of pain is immediately ripped out of you, and you revel in the small relief that it brings, forcing you to take a deep breath to distract yourself. You’d been at this for a solid thirty minutes now, based on Sun’s calculations of when this whole ordeal started.

Sun’s body locks up at the sight, and he can’t even feel the black, watery fluid that begins to leak from beneath his eyes, running down along the curves of his faceplate like tears.

He’s paralyzed. Stuck in between two equally important rules.

They sound off on repeat like warning sirens in his mind.

[ Protect you. ]

[ Never touch you without permission. ]

[ Protect you. ]

[ Never touch you without permission. ]

[ Protect you. ]

[ Never touch you without permission. ]

He’s forced to sit there, glued to the ground and watch as you lift your fist and slam it back down once again, your body reeling forward in response to the pain.

He suddenly feels Moon’s presence fighting to take control in their shared headspace.

He watches on helplessly as an unauthorized edit is made to one of the rules cemented in the forefront of his mind.

[ Protect you. A̵T̸ ̶A̶L̶L̶ ̵C̵O̴S̴T̷S̴.̸ ]

He immediately breaks from his paralysis just in time to reach forward, his movements lightning fast, and wraps his massive hand around your fist as it makes its way towards the ground once again. He moves your connected hands downward together, trying to follow the motion so as to not hurt you any further by suddenly stopping you mid-swing.

Your hands both slam down onto the tile, but you hardly feel the pain this time. Sun registers that the back of his hand took the brunt of the impact, no real damage done given his sturdier components, and his body nearly collapses from the sudden relief.

His other hand quickly reaches out and loosely wraps itself around your wrist, needing to hold you still. He’s careful to not aggravate the swollen joint, nor the stinging lines of broken skin you’d torn across the back of your hand.

You stop crying in your shock, and your head jerks up to look at him, and the both of you stare at each other, unsure, for a long quiet moment.

He breaks the silence first.

“I’m sorry. I-I-I know we can’t touch you without permission but-but-but you weren’t LISTENING and I-I-I had to. You were hurting-hurting-HURTING yourself.”

His repetitions are getting noticeably worse, and so is his volume control. He’s stressed beyond his limits, clearly.

Your remaining panic evaporates at the realization and guilt suddenly takes over, washing over you in waves that threaten to drown.

Your right hand is trembling as you pull it away from your face, poking out of your sleeve and reaching out towards him, no longer caring about the absolute hell you must look like right now.

You grab onto one of his upper arms and pull yourself towards him with what little strength you have left in you. He sat up straight as a board in response to your sudden shift in position, clearly not expecting you to fall right into him. He quickly recovers though, gingerly adjusting you to be more comfortable in his hold.

Your voice is miserable and thick with tears when you speak, face making a mess of the soft, colorful ruffles around his neck. He doesn’t mind it at all, at this point. They can be washed.

“Don’t, please… don’t apologize. Just…”

You let out a shaky sigh.

“just hold me… please.”

That’s permission enough for him, and he quickly gathers you further up onto his lap, adjusting so he’s leaned back against a cabinet and you can lay against him.

“Okay… okay. We can do that.”

He slowly brings your injured hand up to inspect it better in the light, and mutters another string of quiet apologies when you whimper in pain. From a quick scan he can tell that nothing is broken- thank heavens - but it will definitely bruise something awful. He also quietly takes note of the way your sharp nails must’ve broken skin, as there’s tiny dried specks of blood along your forearm when he cautiously lifts your sleeve.

The injury warning pop-ups are still flashing in his vision, but they’re easier to see through now. You’re stable. You’re safe. There will be time to patch you up once they get you calm.

Speaking of they, Moon is now throwing an absolute fit inside their headspace, more impatient than ever to be released so he can do his job. You need to be calmed, you need to be soothed, you need to rest.

[ LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT ]

Sun shoots him a silent response as he brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head against his chest, heart breaking all over again at the way you still tremble against him.

[ You know I would if I could. We have to wait for the lights to go out. Have patience. It’s nearly your turn. ]

He outwardly flinches at the sudden sharp volume of Moon’s voice in his mind.

[ PATIENCE? I just had to sit back here and witness them actively HARMING themselves like a helpless SPECTATOR and you’re telling me to have PATIENCE, SUN? REALLY? ]

Sun settles you back down against him when you stir in response to his sudden movement, assuring you once again that you haven’t done anything wrong.

[ Moon. Please. Look at them. Now is not the time to be fighting. ]

Moon doesn’t reply, so he adds on.

[ I… sincerely thank you… for editing the rule for me, you know? ]

He hears Moon sigh in exasperation, and feels the tension in their headspace begin to slowly dissolve.

[ …yeah. You’re welcome. Don’t make me have to do it again. ]

As if on queue, the lights power down in the plex all at once, and their transition begins. They feel the way you suddenly tense at the realization, and they hush you as their voice shifts from Sun’s into Moon’s.

“Shhh, shh, shh. You’re okay. Everything’s alright, little star. No need to be scared. I’m right here. You’re still safe.”

You keep your head buried in the fabric when you speak.

“Moon?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you… mad at me?”

He struggles to keep it together when he hears how scared you sound.

“Not at all, doll. Never. Never mad at you.”

He brings your left hand back up a bit to get a better look at it through his own eyes, and his body releases a soft burst of warm air from his vents.

“Mad at ourselves? Mmmaybe. But that’s none of your concern. It’s over now. We’re gonna fix this. We promise.”

He shifts a little, and whispers a soft question.

“May I move you up to our room so we can clean you up?”

You nod against him, humming in unenthusiastic acceptance.

His movements are incredibly careful and fluid when he picks the two of you up off the floor. Walking out of the storage closet, he calls down his tether and adjusts his grip on you to assure that you won’t slip.

You cling tight to him with your good hand, and close your eyes to avoid the unpleasant sight of being so far up in the air. Before you know it, you’re being lowered onto their bed so carefully one would think you’re made of glass.

When you finally detach yourself from his chest so he can put you down, you finally notice the dark tear-tracks leaking from his eyes. They shimmer, reflecting the dim string-lights hung throughout the room. You reach out to him, trying to wipe them away and failing miserably, smearing the dark stains further across their faceplate.

He gently takes your hand and brings it to his smile, pressing the equivalent of a kiss against your skin before placing your hand back down in your lap.

“Don’t you worry about us right now, star. You do that enough already. It’s your turn to be taken care of now.”

He shifts from his crouched position by the bed and moves to stand, intending to go fetch the first aid kit. You stop him by clinging to his hand with a nervous whine when he pulls away. You don’t even recognize how small and vulnerable you sound when your thoughts slip out of you.

“Where… where are you going?”

He crouches back down to your level, brushing your messy hair back away from your face.

“Just need to run down and get some things to patch you up with, doll. I’ll be back within a minute. Do you think you can wait for me here while I go do that?”

He’s slipped into caregiver mode, speaking to you like he’d speak to a frightened child in the daycare, but honestly… right about now, you don’t feel much different. His kind, patient tone works wonders to quiet your lingering fears.

“Okay… yeah, I can wait.”

He moves to press another kiss to the crown of your head when he stands back up, whispering to you.

“Very good. I’ll only be a moment. Wait here for me, starlight.”

You don’t count the seconds it takes him, but from what you can tell he stayed true to his word, for it couldn’t have been more than a minute before he was swinging himself back onto the balcony, arms full of various items.

He quietly sets them down one by one on a table in the room, and turns to you, crouching down again to be on your level.

“Now, patching up injuries is usually Sun’s thing, but I’m fully capable of it as well, if you’ll let me.”

You nod in silence, looking down, letting the shame, guilt, and embarrassment wash over you again. He picks up on it, and is quick to reassure you, crouching even further down and tilting his head at an angle so as to catch your gaze again.

“Hey, hey, hey… you don’t need to be ashamed of this. We’re not angry with you, and you don’t have to explain anything tonight if you don’t feel up to it . ”

Some of the tension bleeds out of your shoulders at that, and you take a resolving breath before granting him permission to tend to you, holding your left arm out towards him.

“…Thank you.”

He takes it in his, and reaches to grab a cleansing wipe from his pile of assorted things.

“It’s our honor to care for you, love.”

He hesitates, looking you over for a moment before setting the wipe back down and turning to you.

“It’ll be easier to do this if we take your jacket off first. Would you like assistance?”

You raise your arms out away from you, nodding sheepishly.

If he could smile any bigger than he always is, he would have.

“Alright, then. Mind your hand…”

He gently removes your jacket and folds it over the back of a chair. Then, returning his attention to your arm, he tears the pouch open and pulls the cloth out.

“This will sting at first, but it’s necessary, okay?”

You nod, only wincing slightly as he cleans your scratches and then pulls out a tube of some sort, twisting the tiny cap off with nimble fingers.

“This will help you heal.”

You watch quietly as he takes the utmost care to evenly coat each red, stinging line with the ointment, and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is a bit overkill for a few scratches… but you’re hesitant to turn him down. It couldn’t hurt, and you were rather enjoying the treatment. Far, far more than you’d like to admit, honestly. The torn lines of skin run all the way down your forearm to meet your knuckles, and he doesn’t miss a single spot.

He then turns away, pulling out a thin roll of gauze, and gestures for you to hold your arm out once again. When you offer it, he begins wrapping your arm up, starting from your hand. He’s extremely careful to not put undue pressure on your swollen palm and wrist, and once it’s secured around your hand, he winds the dressing all the way up around your arm, covering every little wound.

You’re nearly in a trance by the time he fastens the bandage in place and pulls back, pilfering through the other things he brought. You snap out of it when his voice breaks the silence again.

“Would you like my assistance while changing into something more suited for sleep?”

You nod before you even really register the inquiry, still too caught up in how good it felt to be bandaged up the way he did. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you undress before, anyways, so you don’t dwell on it too much when he guides you to stand and helps you remove your wrinkled work clothes.

Digging around in their dresser, he pulls out a plush pair of your sleep pants that you leave here for unplanned nights like this, and an oversized Superstar Daycare logo t-shirt.

He squats down, letting you use his shoulders to support your unsteady frame as you step into the pants, pulling them up around your waist before guiding you to sit back down on the bed. Reaching for the shirt and motioning for you to lift your arms, he makes sure the sleeve doesn’t catch on your bandages as he drapes it down over you.

You’re tempted to collapse back into the mattress then and there, but he’s not done coddling you yet.

He begins climbing all around you and gathering up every pillow in the room, propping you up and placing them around you to form some sort of… protective nest, you suppose? Whatever he’s doing, it seems like very important work in his eyes, so you let him fuss over the arrangement ‘til his heart's content, watching him with a small smile and tired eyes.

Once he seems satisfied with his work, he gently picks your left hand up and places it on its own special elevated pillow. He takes a ridiculous amount of care to make sure all of your bruising fingers are spread out in the best possible position, and then looks to you in question.

“Is this okay? Comfortable like this?”

You nod with a bemused smile, and he tilts his head for a moment, gauging your expression. Whatever he makes of it, he seems content now, and so he returns to his duties.

Reaching back to the table, he pulls over an ice pack, carefully wrapping it with soft fabric before situating it over your hand and wrist. He spends a few quiet moments just holding it there, practically staring straight through the ice pack and down into your injured hand. There’s something almost… far away about his voice when he speaks this time, but it’s gone again before your tired mind can question it.

“This should help bring the swelling down…”

You give him a tired smile, and a quiet thank you in acknowledgment.

That seems to snap him out of whatever momentary daze he had slipped into.

He moves back, stopping to take stock of the things he brought with him for a moment before grabbing a wet-looking washcloth and settling himself down on the bed in front of you.

“You’ll sleep better if your face isn’t all hot and tear-stained.”

You’re not gonna decline him, but you do feel compelled to say something.

“You really don’t have to go to such lengths like this, Moon… I don’t really feel like I deserve all this pampering after the burden I’ve been here lately...”

His body language visibly falls, seeming almost hurt by your words.

“Let’s get one thing straight, doll. 

You are no burden. 

Second of all, if you think that this is pampering…”

He lets out a small, sad laugh, looking down and obviously thinking something over internally.

“…then you’ve need to raise your standards, love. This is just basic care.”

He turns back to meet your gaze again.

“Besides. We’d be some pretty awful caretakers if we couldn’t even do this, wouldn’t we?”

His faceplate spins until it’s done a 180, reversing its path and righting itself once again as he speaks. That gets a small smile out of you, and you drop the subject, closing your eyes and leaning in to let him wipe the mess of your breakdown from your flushed skin.

Once you’re cleaned, he steps away for a moment, placing the damp cloth back atop the first aid kit on the table. He’ll put everything away in the morning, but for now, he’s quite hesitant to leave your side again. The small mess of assorted items and today’s dirty clothes will have to wait until tomorrow.

Leaning down to pull their belled slippers off, he places them neatly away to the side. You eye his long fingers as he lifts the back of their neck ruffles, deftly undoing the small bow holding them on, and watch as it unravels. He tosses the fabric onto the same chair he hung your jacket from, and your eyes follow his hands as they move down to his waist, fingers working to undo the tie that holds their pants up.

You avert your gaze as the star patterned fabric drops to the floor, pooling around his ankles. It’s not like there’s anything about each other you haven’t already seen before, but it still feels a bit inappropriate to just sit here doing nothing and watching him undress.

As you lean your head back to stare up at the sea of glow-in-the-dark stars that decorate the ceiling, he steps into the longest, softest pair of black palazzo pants known to mankind, a rare find of yours from a lucky trip to a thrift store.

You hated it when you first found out that they either had to sleep in their work clothes or nothing at all, so you had begun to buy up any casual clothes you could find whenever you happened across something that might fit their unusual frame.

He wraps the ties around his thin waist twice, tying them into a neat bow in the front. He then grabs a baggy, cream colored open-front cardigan and slips one arm after the other into it. Loosely wrapping the sides across his front, he turns and makes his way back over to the bedside. He didn’t particularly care one way or the other about wearing any sort of shirt to bed, but you often fell asleep on him and weren’t a big fan of waking up with your cheek adhered to the silicone of his chest plate.

When you notice his approach in your peripheral vision, you pull your lidded gaze away from the stars above you to look at the Moon beside you.

He settles himself down right next to you, careful to not disturb the nest he’s created, and then reaches out to the bedside table one more time, returning with a bottle of water and a packet of your favorite crackers, which he presumably snatched from the daycare’s pantry.

Why on earth it is that this is the gesture that finally does you in will forever remain a mystery to you, but at the sight of him presenting you the food and water, your eyes well up again with tears you didn’t think you had left.

He visibly falters for a moment, unsure if he’s done something wrong. He drops the crackers down onto the bed, freeing a hand to reach out and cup your cheek, guiding you to look at him. His voice is heavy with a quiet concern.

“Hey, hey, no more tears… Why are you crying again, starlight? Is something still hurting you?”

You smile in spite of your shining eyes, and lean into his touch.

“They’re good tears this time, Moon. I just… Thank you. For everything, for all of this, thank you. Both of you.”

He seems to relax a bit at that, and his thumb runs over your cheek to brush away a stray tear. His eyes get that distant look in them for a moment and you realize he’s listening to Sun.

“Thanking us is not necessary, but you’re very welcome all the same.”

He opens the water bottle for you, assuring that you’ve got a good grip on it before he lets you take it. As soon as it hits your throat you realize just how thirsty you were, greedily downing about half the bottle before Moon’s hand appears in your line of sight, gently ushering it away from your pursed lips. 

“Please pace yourself, starlight.”

You swallow your current mouthful of water as you watch him open the package of crackers, expecting him to hand it to you before you remember that you’ve got a bottle in one hand and an ice pack on the other. He picks one piece out of the package and as he brings it up towards you, you connect the dots quickly enough.

“Open.”

Oh, brother, he’s really giving you the full treatment tonight.

You feel heat return to your cheeks once again, albeit for a different reason this time around. Your voice comes out in a mixture of embarrassment and want.

“You don’t have to feed me…”

His faceplate angles down to the side, cocking his head at you. If he could smirk you’re sure he would be right now.

“But we want to.”

He gently nudges the cracker at your closed lips and you side-eye him as you part them just enough to snatch the food in between your teeth. You pull away with a small smile as you chew, and for some reason you struggle to look him in the eyes.

If circumstances were brighter, he’d likely be teasing you for being so shy, but tonight… Tonight, he sets the jokes aside. He patiently feeds you one cracker after another, reminding you to take a small sip of water every few bites. At some point, when your mind slows down enough for you to notice the silence permeating the room, soft music begins to play from the speaker hidden in his chest.

It’s the tune that he reserves especially for nights like these with you, one that he never plays during nap time. In spite of how little Sun and Moon have to call their own, they still manage to find small parts of themselves to share only with you.

Once you’ve finished your snack, you let him place the remainder of your water back on the side table. When he turns back to you, ready to get you laid down to sleep, you’re fixing him with a thoughtful stare. His faceplate tilts 45 degrees, his tone curious.

“What are you looking at?”

Your tired gaze roams across his faceplate, following along the smeared oily tear tracks he seems to have forgotten about. You then look past him, over his shoulder, and your eyes land on the still-damp cloth on the table.

“Would you hand me that cloth for a second, please?”

He’s silent for a moment, processing your question, but eventually reaches behind himself to retrieve it for you. When he places it in your open right hand, you use it to gesture out in front of you.

“Can you move to sit in front of me for a minute?”

He tilts his head the opposite direction in confusion once again, but does as you requested. You motion for him to lean down a bit until his face is level with yours.

Once you can reach him, you pinch one corner of the cloth between two fingers and set to work wiping away the dark tear tracks. You follow the path they’ve made down from beneath their eyes, around the inner curve of their cheeks and down to their mouth. The trails of inky fluid had weaved their way through the crevices of their smile and eventually converged, pooling in the bottom curve of the crescent moon.

You feel his eyes, now tiny pinpricks of red in a black void, following your every movement. Not really in a dangerous sort of way… he just seems more taken aback than anything. When you’ve wiped every last trace away, you meet his gaze briefly as you give him one final look over, and you give him a small smile.

You go to hand the cloth back to him and he doesn’t move to take it, still sitting there with his hands clasped in his lap and staring straight at you. Oh god. Knowing your luck, your attempt at returning the favor has broken him. Cautiously reaching out, you take one of his hands in yours and maneuver it until it’s face-up. You ball the cloth up and place it back in his palm as your hand comes to rest over top of it, eyes darting across his frame in search of any movement, any sort of response.

“Are you still with me, Moon?”

At your words, his faceplate suddenly clicks back and forth a few times before making one full rotation, the bell on the end of his hat grazing the pillows below you along the way. Life seems to finally return to him, and his fingers close around the cloth in his hand as he leans back. Silently, he moves from his spot seated in front of you to return the cloth to the table before settling himself back down in his prior spot beside you. You turn to look at him, uncertain, and his gaze is settled on the bed sheets when he speaks.

“I never left you.”

Your tired mind struggles to understand what exactly that means, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh?”

He tilts his faceplate to look down at you, still being a head taller than you even when you’re sitting next to him.

“You asked me if I was still with you.”

His hand reaches out and he carefully laces his long fingers between yours.

“I never left.”

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at the sincerity in his voice and in that moment, you can’t do anything other than lean into him, gently resting your forehead against his shoulder. After a little while of just breathing in the moment, you speak again.

“I just… wanted to return the favor. You two take such good care of me, wiping your tears is the least I can do…”

One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head against him.

“It’s entirely unnecessary but we both appreciate it nonetheless. We really do. We’re just… not used to it. Being treated so gently is… unfamiliar to us.”

You pull your left hand out from beneath the ice pack in order to wrap your arms around him in a proper hug, talking into the fabric of his cardigan.

“Oh, come on, guys… you’re starting to sound like me now.”

Moon resists the urge to reprimand you for moving your hand, instead allowing their body to lean into the embrace, wrapping long arms around your soft, vulnerable body. His voice sounds far more exhausted than any animatronic's voice ought to when he speaks.

“…it’s well past your bedtime, little star.”

You put the last of your energy into squeezing him as tightly as you can before you finally let go, allowing him to re-situate you however he deems fit.

You know that there’s a heavy conversation to be had tomorrow, and you’re gonna have to find a way to hide or explain away the remnants of your obvious injury to little questioning minds on Monday. You’ll have to think of all the right things to say to anyone who may ask questions, and you’ll come up with something, you’re sure. One thing you can find comfort in though, is that you don’t have to worry about any of that with Sun and Moon.

They deserve a more detailed explanation of course and they’ll get it when you’re ready, but at least for tonight… the three of you can rest knowing that you’re safe and understood in each other's arms. None of you are strangers to this, and you both know that things will be okay again. One step back doesn’t erase any of the progress you made beforehand.

So for now, you breathe in deep and focus on the feeling of gentle, strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe from anything that may seek to harm you.

Even if that’s yourself.

A/Ns: Crisis Text Line provides free, 24/7 support via text message. They're there for everything: anxiety, depression, suicide, school. Text HOME to 741741. Or, you can click the link here to visit their website for more information and resources. As usual, if you want to see all of my commentary and additional context in regards to writing this fic, you can find that in the notes right here on AO3!

Image Sources: x - x - x

#moondrop #sundrop #moon x reader #sun x reader #fnaf #sun x reader x moon #moondrop x reader #sundrop x reader #the daycare attendant #dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfic #fnaf security breach #cw sh #sh cw #sh mention #Seven.txt - In The Daylight #for once i don't have a whole bunch of commentary to put in the tags i'm just tired and hungry and i wanna post something today #so here u go! people seemed to really appreciate this fic over on twt and AO3 so maybe it can reach some people that need it on here too <3

[anyarose011]

You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Four days into being stuck in an all boy's school for Christmas break, and you're on the brink of insanity. If it's not because of Angus Tully still trying to one up you in history lessons, then it's Teddy Kountze getting a hand on something personal of yours (prick).

Part 2 of ?? (Part 1)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, mentions of pornography, blackmail, minor physical assault, and as always, Teddy Kountze.

You guys don't get to escape being an awkward af teenager just because it's fanfiction, so enjoy! Also, thank you all so much for the love already shown just from the first part alone!

Word Count: 5.0k

You always knew to put a pillow over your head when you heard your father get up from his bed.

“All right you fetid layabouts, it’s daylight in the swamp!” He smacked two metal basins against each other, waking the boys up if they weren’t already, groaning. “Arise!”

It was funny the first day, but by the fourth, it was unbearable. Still, a part of you was grateful for your father; you never had to get up early and run with the boys in the cold, Massachusetts air. Call it nepotism, call it sexism, you were just glad he didn’t want you to interact with them (physically, that is).

The second day you were there, he called you in during afternoon study hall (leaving you on a minor cliff hanger in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre; forget that it was your third time reading it, it pissed you off). Just like he had done months ago, Paul Hunham hosted a trivia game (whether that was to show you off, or get them to study, you had no idea).

What idea you did have, was beating every single one of them.

For Alex and Ye-Joon, they were babies in your eyes, so you would give them more time to think on their answers whenever they were up. Alex got close on one, but overall, they didn’t do so well.

Oh, the boys your age? Yeah, you didn’t show mercy, even towards Jason.

“When was the last king overthrown?” Your father questioned.

You smacked the desk before Jason could even process the question. “509 B.C.”

“What planets are named after Roman gods?”

“Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” You recited it perfectly.

Teddy scrunched his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

Your father pursed his lips. “That was the easiest one I have, Kountze.”

Angus Tully…Angus. Fucking. Tully.

“What emperor temporarily restored peace to Rome and the cost of-?”

Angus hit the desk before your father could finish the question. “-Diocletian.”

“At its peak,” your father eyed you. “how large was the Roman Empi-?”

“2.3 million square miles.” You answered, keeping your eyes trained on Tully.

“Nero had five spouses in total, what was the name of the slave boy he-?”

“-Castrated and married,” you finished for him. “Sporus.”

Back and forth you both went like that, rapid fire at first, and your own levels of exhaustion were catching up to you. After perhaps five minutes of this (maybe ten, twenty, who gives a shit, you were tired), it was one damning question that would haunt you.

“True or false, the Pantheon was built before the Coliseum.”

“True.” You said, slapping the desk with the confidence of a mediocre man.

There was silence in the room, and your father sighed. “False.”

It wasn’t a big deal, it shouldn’t have been a big deal; to literally everyone else but you, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

Oh, it was.

It was the second time you lost to Angus Tully overall, the first time from an easy question. Still, while Kountze’s grin made you want to rip out his teeth, it was Tully’s outstretched hand that caused you to snap out of it.

“Good job.”

Two of the most hurtful words in academia, whether it meant for it to be or not. Still, swallowing your pride, you shook his hand, and left the room gracefully.

Then started crying as you walked down the darkened hallway.

It wasn’t like you were weeping, you were just frustrated. Thankfully, by the time your friend Elise came to pick you up, you were fine and had a fun day simply walking around town with her.

You bought cigarettes and chocolate at the drug store, then spent the rest of the day at her house, laying on the floor and listening to records in her room while answering her prodding questions.

“Who’s the cutest one?”

“None, they’re men.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, smiling. “I know that, but if you had to choose.”

“Like, ‘if we were the last man and woman on earth’ I had to choose?”

“Sure.”

“A very tall bridge.”

She laughed, shoving you playfully. “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

“Really.”

Sighing heavily, you thought for a moment, before smiling. “He’s a football player.”

“What?!” She sat herself up. “You and a football player?!”

“Shut up!” You laughed with her, sitting up.

Elise shook her head. “What about the one you went head-to-head with in trivia today?”

“Ew,” was your immediate reaction. “he’s maybe your type, but not mine.”

“So, you don’t want a smart one?” She questioned. “And that’s mean of you.”

“I’m mean to everyone.” You laid back down on the floor. “And yes, of course I want someone who’s smart, but not smarter than me.”

She mirrored you, laying down and leaning her head against yours. “So, he’s out for the count?”

“One hundred percent.”

“If you say so.” Elise reached up onto her nightstand and handed you a letter. “Also, my aunt left something back at the faculty housing and said she found this in you and your dad’s mailbox.”

You looked at your name in the center of it, and then at the stamp: a toy train.

It took everything within you not to sit up in shock. All you did was smile, say thank you, and slip it into your coat pocket.

You gave Tully his chocolates and cigarettes and didn’t have a problem. It was the fourth day when your father had given them just another ounce of freedom outside of the school, allowing them to walk around the wooded area of campus. You still had your books, but you were also feeling lonesome (the only time you really interacted with any of them was during mealtimes, except for Teddy…fuck Teddy), and you had talked about almost every single thing you wanted to talk about with Mary (God bless that women for letting you read to her too).

So, on December 20th, you laced up your boots (not too tightly), pulled on your mittens, and zipped up your jacket to go on a miniature adventure with the five boys.

“I’m gonna teach you how to play football.” Jason teased you as the six of you walked two by two (you and him at the front).

Shaking your head, you smiled more so at the thought of what you’d look like than his obvious flirting (was he even flirting or just being nice? Decades pass, and you still aren’t sure). “Please no.”

“Come on, it’s easy.”

“Roman history is easy.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not; you’re just smart.”

“It’s easy to me. Football is easy to you, see what I’m getting at?”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself, Teddy?”

“Say no more.” He responded, brushing past you and running up ahead as Jason threw the football to him and he caught it.

That left you by yourself for just a moment before seeing Angus walk beside you. You turned your head over your shoulder to see Ye-Joon and Alex lagging behind as they talked.

“Boys,” you called them. “try and keep up!”

They responded with a chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Sorry’s.

“So what, you’re like their mother now?” The second most irritating voice belonging to a boy asked.

You looked over at Angus, hands in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “You’re not exactly the nurturing type.”

“You don’t know that.”

Humming, you stepped over a log in the middle of the path. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Jason’s here because of his hair, Alex and Ye-Joon’s family are in other continents, I don’t care nor want to know about Teddy, why are you here?”

He didn’t respond right away, before then saying. “I was supposed to go to St. Kitt’s with my mom and stepfather, but then they decided to say it was their honeymoon and ditch me.”

Your gaze turned to him and saw him pick up a stick, dragging it behind him to make a line in the snow. Even just from his profile, you could see the anger withing his eyes; bubbling more violently than a volcano about to erupt.

“That’s despicable.” You stated plainly.

“That’s one way to put it.” He scoffed.

You didn’t know exactly how to follow up such a personal conversation, but you wanted to make him feel better (at this point during the break, only because it was the decent thing to do), so you just said.

“You beat me fair and square both times.”

Angus looked at you. “Did I? At your dad’s bullshit trivia?”

“You did. Well actually, it was just me versus five of you, and I do believe the more I talk to Kountze, the more braincells I lose, so-.”

“-Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “I know, I was just telling you why I lost to you both times.”

He shrugged. “The first time you had to go against fifteen of us.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, genuinely not believing it. “are you suddenly saying that you think I’m smart?”

“I never said you weren’t.” He gave you a look.

“Last time, you looked me in the eye and said you knew more than me.”

That’s what silenced him, and when he nor you said anything after that, you simply walked ahead of him. Hell yeah, you had the last word and made him feel like an asshole (you honestly didn’t know that was possible).

The six of you all caught up with one another, and you spoke with the freshmen boys more about meaningless things (but perhaps that’s what made it so meaningful). Angus, still carrying the stick like he was a child, and it was his favorite toy, said to Jason after talking about if there was anything else to do in Barton.

“What about your car? We could take it, go somewhere, Boston maybe?”

“Nah, we’d get in so much trouble.” He shook his head, nudging you. “Little miss perfect here would snitch on us.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I would not. Besides, it’d be easier to say you all kidnapped me, and everyone would believe me.”

“Face it,” Jason passed the football back to Teddy. “we’re stuck.”

 “If we just had some way to get out of here.” Angus kicked a patch of snow. “Just split.”

Jason pointed towards the quad. “Well, you could put a chopper down right in the quad.”

“A what?” Angus furrowed his brow.

“Helicopter, dumbass.” Teddy mocked. “His old man’s the CEO of Pratt and Whitney.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, he’s go his own bird. He takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our back yard. Pilot’s name is Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon asked, amused.

“Yeah, flew to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me.”

“Flying with presents,” Alex spoke up. “like Santa Claus.”

That was perhaps the first time you smiled out of geniuses that day.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistled, and Teddy immediately dashed ahead of him and caught the ball once Jason threw it. The two drifted off playing catch, leaving you and Angus with the freshmen. Alex spoke just as whimsically as he did about Santa.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar.”

Ye-Joon smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

You nodded. “During finals week, I helped Mary and the other cooks bake cookies for you guys. I still think that’s one of my favorite smells of all time.”

“You helped out with that?” Angus asked.

Dropping your smile, you said. “Yeah, and if I knew which one you’d have taken I would’ve spat in it.”

Before he could even come up with a response, Teddy ran up to Alex and yanked the glove off his right hand. “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, you little Mormon!” He laughed before throwing it into the river.

You marched up to him immediately. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Like, what the actual fuck?”

Teddy only stuck his tongue out like a child before running back to catch up with Jason. A part of you (somehow) foolishly believed he would’ve berated Teddy for the obviously asshole act; but he didn’t.

Rolling your eyes, you went down to the river with Alex, hopefully trying to find the glove and be able to fish it out. Though, to no avail, you couldn’t find it.

“It’s gone!” He yelled back up to Angus and Ye-Joon. “My glove’s gone!”

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose!” Angus responded. “Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more.”

Alex looked down at his hands before tugging off the other glove and throwing it into the river as well. You glared at Teddy as he had a fun time, still laughing and throwing the ball with Jason. Sighing, you looked back down at Alex and pulled off your mittens, handing them to him.

“Here.”

He glanced up at you before staring back out at the water, rubbing his nose. “I don’t need them.”

“Your fingers are frailer than mine.” You continued even when he gave you a look. “That’s not an insult, that’s a fact. It’s alright, I have pockets.”

Alex, after a moment of debating, took them from you and slipped them on, smiling. “Thanks.”

The six of you were on your way back to school when you felt someone slip their hand into your coat pocket.

“Now what do we have here?”

You turned on your heel, seeing Teddy’s face light up as he waved the letter in his hand. Your face dropped, along with your voice.

“No!”

Immediately, you began to chase him around the small, snowy clearing as if you were a dog and he was a car.

“Theodore fucking Kountze, give that back!” You commanded.

He ripped open the envelope. “Or what, Hunham? You’re gonna tell your dad on me?”

“Just give her the letter, idiot.” Angus rolled his eyes.

Of course, Kountze ignored him, taking the letter out, and money falling from the paper. That’s when he stopped in his tracks and so did you. For the first time since…a while, you were frozen, and you had no idea why.

The rest of the boys caught up to you two, and Teddy picked up the money that fell from the letter; a twenty, a ten, and a five-dollar bill. After the initial shock wore off, he read the letter aloud to everyone.  

“‘My dearest girl, how are you? It’s been a while, and I just want to know what you’ve been up to. Merry Christmas, here’s my gift to you. From, Daniel. P.S. Please send another picture of you if you could.’”

Shame crept in like a shaking animal from the cold, and you couldn’t even look at any of them. Still, that didn’t stop Teddy from taunting you; hell, it probably spurred him on.

“The hell kind of business are you running if you got a someone paying you thirty-five bucks?” He laughed, looking back at the guys. “You think she’s in a skin mag or something?”

“Hey, man, shut up.” Jason rebuked.

“No, I’m serious. They take pictures without showing the face sometimes.” He looked at you now. “Which one is it? Penthouse? Modern Man?”

“Leave it, Kountze.” You hissed, not looking at him.

Teddy laughed. “Don’t tell me it’s Playboy; you?”

 “Are you fucking deaf?” Angus asked. “She told you to cut it out.”

“Piss off Tully, you probably saw her tits this morning in study hall.”

You whipped your head around and couldn’t control the face you made; to this day, you still have no idea if it was pure rage, a form of betrayal, or both at once. Still, you watched as how Angus avoided your gaze like he’d done something wrong; he did, but still. Teddy opened his disgusting mouth to speak again.

“Shit, if I were to line up every girl in Barton, you would’ve been the very last one I-.”

“-I’ll let you take the picture.”

All eyes were back on you, and you looked right at Teddy’s; once confident and sly, now widened with surprise. Who knew it would take just six words for him to shut up?

“What?” Was all he responded.

You swallowed thickly, clutching your hands into fists to keep yourself calm (and to not cry). “I’ll let you take the picture of me, but we have to be alone, and you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone else; especially my father.”

This was not what you had envisioned or wanted to happen on your first outing with them away from the adults in your life. You prayed to whatever god above, Christian, Roman, Greek, Buddhist, it didn’t matter, you prayed that Teddy would grow a brain and take the deal.

“Alright.” Was all he said, shrugging with an excited smile on his face that made your skin crawl.

You nodded. “I’ll take my letter and money now.”

He tilted his head, walking closer to you. “Please.”

Taking a deep breath, you said. “Please.”

Teddy’s grin only deepened, then handed you your things. “You know, Hunham, maybe you’re not a total prude after-.”

Your fist met his eye, and the both of you stumbled backwards; him clutching his face, you your hand. Needless to say, you were both cursing. Still, you managed to gather your bearings and push him over.

“Fucking bastard.” You spat before trying to make a run for it.

Teddy grabbed your left foot, causing you to fall into the snow, your teeth sinking into your lip once you hit your chin on impact of the ground. You struggled, then managed to quickly wiggle out of your boot before getting back up and running like a girl (anyone would run like a girl if they were being chased by a man like Teddy Kountze).

You honestly have no idea how he didn’t catch up to you at the time, but you were on the steps of the main building when you turned back. There they were, just five, not-so-little specks that stood out across the valley of pure white snow. It was only when you slowed down did you notice how cold your left foot was. Your sock was dripping wet from the snow, and you then pulled off your other boot, leaving it on the stairs before entering the school.

Taking a deep breath once you closed the door, you wiped your mouth; specks of blood colored your hand, but thankfully, not that much. Sighing, you walked through the halls of the school, trying to make your way back to the infirmary and hoping that your father wasn’t there.

You ran into Mary instead (a fate worse than death).

“Where are your shoes?” Was the first thing she asked once she saw you in the main hall (you got lost; hey, you’d only been there a few times in the past, don’t be too hard on yourself).

You shrugged, smiling. “We were playing a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“Hide and seek tag.” you leaned against the wall, hands in your coat pockets. “First one to get to the school wins, I hid my shoes under a bush, so they thought I was there, and I made a run for it.”

“You take a fall then? Your mouth’s bleeding.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never slipped on ice?” You managed to joke.

She arched her brow, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I’ve known you?”

It actually took you a few moments to think back on it; it felt like you’ve known her longer, but no. “Since I was nine?”

“And do you think, in the last eight years, I haven’t been able to tell if you’re a bad liar or not?”

“…Well, am I?”

“Did one of those boys put their hands on you?” She asked the question you both knew was coming. “Was it that shitass Kountze?”

Even with it being a serious question, you laughed (both from surprise and discomfort). “Well like, you should see the hands I put on him. Mary, we were just playing, it’s fine.”

The main door opened before she could say anything else, and you saw the same five boys walk in; Ye-Joon holding your boots. You smiled, approaching them as if nothing was wrong, and you took your shoes. “Thank you.”

He nodded, quickly looking away.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Mary spoke up behind you, and your heart dropped for a moment as well as all of their faces. “I get that you were playing a game, but you don’t need to be so competitive.”

They turned to one another, obviously confused about the whole thing (you were as well). Still, she continued. “Yeah, little miss Hunahm told me everything. Hide and seek, tag, I don’t care what it was, you all need to be just careful with each other. Poor girl over here took a fall, and I see you did too, mister Kountze.”

At his name, Teddy turned away. Angus spoke up. “We’ll be careful next time, miss Lamb.”

“Please, we’re on vacation; just Mary.” She looked at you. “You’re gonna help me with dinner later, right?”

“I will.”

“Good, stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.”

With that, Mary left through one of the doors leading to the teacher’s lounge. The moment she did, Teddy hissed at you.

“What the hell was that?!”

Rolling your eyes you said. “Didn’t you hear? We were playing a stupid game.”

“You mean you punched me in the face.”

“You blackmailed me into doing something I wouldn’t have wanted to do; we can keep going.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a-.”

“-A what?”

He stopped to your surprise, then changed his tone. “I just don’t think your father would be proud of the choices you’ve made.”

On one hand, damn, those words cut deep enough to almost make you bleed; but on the other hand…

“Are you gonna tell him?” You asked, trying not to sound like you gave a shit.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I mean, unless you’re gonna say sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You laughed. “Beating the shit out of you? You started it. Besides, who’s he going to believe?”

Silence was what you were met with. Even at the sight of his face, you only continued to grin. “Teddy, come on, you start ‘not fights’, we all know. It’s not a hard question, I thought you were smarter than this?”

He sighed. “You.”

“Exactly; you’re my bitch, Kountze.” You walked backwards, a little skip in your step. “Don’t you forget that.”

Turning away, you retreated to the infirmary, grabbing your books and escaping to the library in hopes of not having to see any of them for the rest of the day.

Men…so exhausting.

You managed to disappear into the world of The Yellow Wallpaper (not necessarily lighthearted reading, but it was still interesting) and a chapter of The Two Towers before Mary called you down to help with dinner.

After another strange but not so subtle comment from her (“You know you can be honest with me, right? I am with you.”), it was quiet between the both of you. That’s what you always loved with cooking and baking; the quietness, even if you were with one other person. You both just worked in tandem and it was almost frightening how you would both know to move out of the way of each other without saying a word.

Dinner was uneventful; somehow, your father hadn’t noticed the slight bruising on your lip, or Teddy’s eye (the color would probably start to show as days went on, but that was a future problem for you). Not one of the boys your age talked to you; even then, the freshmen kept to themselves a lot too.

So, it was quite a surprise to you, as there was “supervised leisure time” in the library, when Jason Smith sat across from you at the table.

“Hey.” He said softly.

You looked up from Jane Eyre. “Hello.”

“So…” He almost looked nervous (initially about what, you will never know). “you really gave Teddy shit today.”

Tilting your head to the side, you went. “Yeah? Well…he kind of threatened me.”

“No of course. Just…wow.” He chuckled. “You really held him off.”

Nodding, you honestly had no idea what to think. Was he complementing you? In shock? All you were doing was staying silent at this awkward exchange when he asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Just that, I can’t really read you right now. Did I say something weird?”

“No.” You shook your head, then said. “Well, yes. Sorry, I just…” You tried again. “Thank you, I think? But um…do you want me to be honest?”

“Sure.”

“I’m kind of…no, I am mad none of you stepped in. Maybe not mad but…I don’t know.”

“Well,” he began. “we told him to stop.”

“So did I, but he didn’t.” You wanted to say, but you only knew saying something true would make it worse (this is why you couldn’t be outnumbered by men; it’d make you scared). Instead, you settled on.

“I know, and thanks, but it still would’ve been nice for some help.”

He shrugged. “You seemed to have it handled.”

Six words you thought (and prayed) you’d never hear again; and he said them with a nonchalant shrug. As if, by now, he was already bored and annoyed with a conversation he had started. Perhaps you were reading too much into that last part, perhaps he didn’t mean to come off as callous; but he was still oblivious at the end of the day.

“Look,” he interrupted your overflowing mind when he saw how much it was affecting you. “if it helps, he tried to run after you when you punched him, but Tully and I held him back.”

You took a deep breath as his words sunk in. Then, you chuckled bitterly. “How nice of you to not let him beat me to a pulp.”

He shook his head. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Angry? Pissed off?”

“Irritational.”

Your jaw actually dropped. “What?”

He said your name, shaking his head and lowering his voice as if you both hadn’t been quiet already. “Look, Kountze is a dick, we know that. But come on, he said some horrible stuff, and you punched him. That doesn’t really add up.”

“…He threatened me.”

“You basically invited him to take a picture of you alone. I mean, yeah it was to bate him, but still.”

No further questions, you picked up your book and your jacket. Without another word and ignoring how he tried to call you back with a soft tone of voice as he said your name, you walked out of the library without another thought.

Your father asked you about it of course, but all you said was that Jason spoiled a book you were looking forward to reading. He believed you and wished you goodnight, leaving you to lie in your bed and be stuck in your thoughts until snoring reached your ears.

You waited a few more minutes before you stood up, gathering your blanket to wrap around you. As you walked down the hall, the nagging thought of ‘Do I even feel safe in there?’ invaded your mind when you only realized that you were going to be in a room with both Jason and Teddy. You were outside of the hall for longer than you would imagine, when you heard quiet voices on the other side of the wall.

“…I had an accident.”

“Yeah, you did. Shh, stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

You had to cover your mouth from the unexpected line. How…strange it was to hear Angus Tully be this comforting. You heard the smaller voice again and heard that it was Ye-Joon.

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends.” His voice broke at the end, and so did a piece of your heart.

Then, Angus with his words of wisdom, said. “Yeah, well, friends are overrated. I’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right? In the meantime, find a dry spot, and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you.”

You gave it a few moments, still reeling over the gentleness of it all, before entering into the light of the infirmary room. You knocked lightly on the door frame not to frighten anyone.

Angus turned over his shoulder, and somehow didn’t jump when he saw you.

“Hi.” You greeted.

“Hey.” He responded, trying to act like his common, moody self.

You wanted to acknowledge what you heard; tease him (but not in an unkind way) about him being nice, ask him why, in the dead of night, was he like this and not in the daytime? Still, all you could manage was the basic.

“Is everything alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just nightmares, you know.”

“No,” you shook your head, deciding to lighten and grace the room with your sarcasm. “I’ve never had one in my life.”

Angus seemed to catch on, and it surprised you greatly to see him actually smile. “Nobody likes a bragger.”

“So that’s why you don’t have any friends.”

…Too much; too much sarcasm.

Both of your smiles fell, and you wanted nothing more than to shrivel up like a leaf and die in front of him, then have someone sweep out the crumbs of your body and then them on fire in the snow before burying the ashes.

You still can’t believe you came up with that metaphor quicker before you could say. “I’m just gonna…”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

You scurried into the other room and under the covers of the bed. The fear of Teddy and Jason no longer was the thing keeping you up at night in that room; it was the worst possible thing you could’ve said to Angus Tully of all people.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers #mary lamb #teddy kountze #paul hunham #Youtube

[look-how-they-massacred-them]

Urabrask

Submission reason:

after years of buildup for him to be leading a revolution, his contribution to the story's climax was... throwing someone at a tree, and then dying slowly and painfully

Okay so for a bit of back lore to set the stage. A long time ago in the mtg canon a doctor by the name of Yawgmoth schemed and backstabbed his way into a new world in order to develop a cure for a disease that had been plaguing the people of his continent. There stuff happens and he ends up developing a process to replace flesh with metal by way of a pseudomagical oil, and thus creating what would come to be known as Phyrexians. More stuff happens and he is defeated thousands of years later. However in this process some of the oil, phyrexian oil, he developed wound up on other worlds. One such world was Mirrodin. Eventually the oil takes roots and as it spread five Phyrexians rose above the rest, one in each of magics five colors: Elesh Norn, white, wants to unify everything under her rule (literally and metaphorically) to achieve perfection; Jin Gitaxias, blue, thinks he can science himself and everything into perfection; Sheoldred, black, and uh I honestly don’t remember lmao?; Vorinclex, green, he thought you could darwin yourself into perfection… and then theres our boy Urabrask, for the color red, for passion, ingenuity, the arts. Urabrask starts his story by immediately fucking off from the other four because he just wants to build shit and be left alone and not be involved in their scheming. So much, in fact, that when the other preators start spreading the oil further and converting the locals he orders all the phyrexians in his faction to allow refugees into their territory and to not mess with them. However this tolerance was built out of wanting to focus on and throw himself entirely to his Great Work, not some kind of moral code or kindness. He even ends up sealing his territory entirely later on, even to refugees. Later down the story they decide to change this. Presumably due to Elesh Norn’s rise as the main power in Mirrodin, now New Phyrexia, and her unwillingness to compromise, Urabrask is now reimagined as a revolutionary (which you know good on him right? Miles better than before and he was already the best among the five). Elesh Norn is at this point planning to extend her reach beyond New Phyrexia and to simultaneously invade every other world and infect/conquer them. urabrask, then, decides to revolt against Elesh Norn, but like… working and not working along side any one else? Like he’s supposedly doing his own thing along with Sheoldred but hes also constantly helping the main force? Anyways this ends up with him at best dismembered by Elesh Norn and now lost along with the rest of New Phyrexia in a pocket dimension. So what’s particularly weird is that he is a Phyrexian through and through. He wasn’t some goodguy tm. Yes he allowed refugees to seek shelter from the rest, but he was still trying to find a form of perfection through the oil. It makes some sense he would fight against Elesh Norn because shes imperialistic and she would push up against his territory. But the alliance of Everyone Else was out to completely destroy New Phyrexia, Phyrexians, and the phyrexian oil to a) defend themselves and b) because it literally just takes one drop. So Urabrask himself was on the chopping block… obviously selflessly fighting against an evil even when knowing you will probably end up dead as well is commendable, depending on circumstances, that’s just not how he was depicted on his original appearance at all. In his first appearances he’s just a dude trying to do his thing, being nice only by virtue of utter indifference, and years later when we see him again he’s now a gung-ho revolutionary setting up all the needed pieces for a fight that will end in his own death either by the hand of those he’s fighting against or those he is fighting with. I love him in both forms, but goddamn at least do more build up to it. As far as I’ve been able to find he has no plan for himself or his faction post defeating Elesh Norn and just got turned into a plot device to give the alliance a leg up and be able to win an otherwise impossible and mediocrity-ly written war.

Portrayed as a rebel against his fascist homeworld, ignored and randomly executed when it was time to actually fight them

They were killed off screen and didnt really get a satisfying ending. There were basicaly side lined in a story that they realistically should have been really important to

They had this whole buildup to him having an arc where he'd lead a Phyrexian revolution against Elesh Norn but instead they had every main character just brush it off as ""infighting"" since they think phyrexians are ontologically evil, and then had him publically drawn and quartered with literally nobody giving even a second thought about him, including Elspeth who was actively helping him before and Koth who at one point called him a friend. None of the official writing painted any of this as a bad thing.

Butchered their story and played them out as an evil when he wanted to free his people from tyranny and create.

FIRST OF ALL! His cards sucked for a very long time and only very recently had there been a non shitty urabrask. Secondly he’s by fAR THE MOST INTERESTING PHYRXIAN AND he just. NEVER GETS MENTIONED????

When Urabrask was originally introduced in the Scars of Mirrodin Block, he and his faction offered something that the other phyrexian factions didn't: empathy of for other beings, and thus, the possibility of nuance for the phyrexians. True, this empathy didn't extend into full-blown compassion, and true, he did not actively oppose the other praetors in killing and converting the native mirrans, but he did command his faction to leave any mirran refugees that entered his domain alone, and at the end of the block it was all but stated that Urabrask was planning to stage a rebellion against Elesh Norn. Come New Capenna and Urabrask has sided with the mirrans to overthrow Elesh Norn and fight against his fellow preators, even using the planar bridge to travel to New Capenna to research halo as a potential weapon even though traveling there destroyed his organic components and just being near halo caused him physical pain. Then in All Will Be One despite being explicitly stated to be fighting with the mirran rebels, Urabrask does not get a POV story, and barely gets a mention in the main story. Not only that, but in one of the side stories Slobad, one of Urabrask minions, is shown coercing mirran survivors into ""willing"" become compleated, and all of a sudden, the extra lore written about him talked about how he may prefer willing coverts to phyrexia, he was still more than willing to kill or forcefully compleate people to further his goals. Finally, midway through March of the Machines, Urabrask is executed by Elesh Norn without any meaningful resolution to his story.

-Absolutely downplayed his rebellion against phyrexia to a footnote in the story of other characters despite being a symbol for opposing everything the phyrexian invasion stood for while also *being* phyrexian. -Writers contradicted earlier in-canon explicit statements about his opinions on freedom and choice with later interviews and supplementary material out-of-canon seemingly to justify continuing to downplay him in-canon. -Finally had him captured off-screen just to be dismembered on-screen and then forgotten by the plot.

Set up to be a pivotal character in the resistance against Phyrexia. The set up to show there are sympathetic phyrexians against Elesh Norns cult-like society was being laid alongside Urabrask, but all of this is completely squandered. He's consistently devalued, his input is minimized, and depicted the layout that he's a powerful leader woth many forces behind him he is immediately undermined by only a few rogue underlings and immediately captured, tortured and implied killed offscreen. His death is not even mourned or regarded as anything. His actions should have helped but despite his resistance against phyrexia he's deemed as just another dead monster. Not a single ally he did have gives a shit that he died trying to help.

Urabrask is the most important good member of his species. It was necessary for him to have cooperative story moments with those who bunch him in with the rest of the aliens the ""heroes"" were going to genocide. Urabrask was supposed to be the symbol of co-existence and free will. Instead, he had almost no story whatsoever, with a completely unrelated scene showing him captured and dissected. He was discarded under the rug, when it should have been *him* to lead the resistance to victory against their oppressors.

Propaganda:

I will bite you if my baby doesn’t get in the poll also his wife is very petty look up Ayala furnace queen

Metal Dad deserved better

Vorinclex also deserved better

Praetors of new phyrexia (leader figures of the alien species) were mistreated and mischaracterized in the grand Phyrexia storyarch in general. It started great, but then they were killed off unceremoniously by writers that did not have the time or care to respect them.

Who else here got butchered into becoming selfless good guys? Vote for the artist turned revolutionary, a win for him is a win for tumblr.

him face :3

Urabrask is super cool. He is the first person in a race of evil alien people bent on infecting / killing / taking over people to go “hmmm maybe we should like ask them first” he is a king and was taken from us too soon

This submission also somewhat represents Phyrexians as a whole who were built up to make sure the audience has every reason to see them as people only to have the rug pulled out from under them and suddenly all phyrexians are treated as evil no matter what

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my boy #urabrask #magic the gathering #mtg urabrask #propaganda post

[grimalkinmessor]

Light's end has always bothered me for multiple reasons (the biggest of which is it not actually being his fault that he lost therefore robbing me of a greater poetic justice but you can't win 'em all), but I think one nobody really talks about is that,,,Light wasn't afraid to die.

Well—he WAS, at the beginning, but part of the reason I'm so obsessed with his relationship with Ryuk is because Ryuk's existence was a constant threat to Light's life. And yet Light never once seemed afraid of him, or tried to cozy up to him, or even attempted manipulate Ryuk into doing things for him. Sure, he bribed him sometimes into going along with his plans, but he was friends with Ryuk. Or—as close to friends as I assume a Light Yagami and a Shinigami can get.

But before Light meets Ryuk, he 100% believes that he's going to die. His frenzy those first few days can be attributed not to any moral righteousness, but to a desperate sort of resignation. Light thinks that he's sold his soul after killing those first two men, so instead of destroying the Death Note, he immediately sets out to make as big of an impact as possible. He wants to go out with a bang! He wants to be remembered! Light is afraid of death in those first days—but he also comes to terms with it somewhere between killing Otoharada and Ryuk showing up. He was ready to go with Ryuk quietly if he was there to take his life or his soul.

But then—he learns that he's not going to die.

The face of a boy excited and relieved.

Light learns that there are no consequences to using the Death Note.

THIS is when he starts getting cocky, when he starts to actually convince himself of all that moral stuff he spouts.

But he's still not afraid of death.

Oh he's afraid of being caught, for sure, and after L humiliated him on live television, he might've even been afraid of execution. Because he'd seen firsthand just how quickly L could turn the tables on him, how he could make Kira look foolish. And Light definitely does not want to be remembered as foolish.

I don't think Light was afraid of actually DYING though, because when Ryuk says "You know I could just kill you", Light laughs. Literally laughing in the face of death. Light KNOWS that Ryuk will eventually kill him, but as long as he goes down the way he wants—on HIS terms—it's fine. Ryuk claiming that he'd be the one to finally end Light might've even been a relief, considering how Light's mind works. A god can only be killed by another god, etc. etc. 'Killed By A Real-life Shinigami' sounds metal as FUCK. Top-tier way to die if you're as much of a gloryhound as Light.

And one thing that irks me is that—the five year gap kind of,,,,takes that, from Light. Light spends so long on top of the world with no real challenge that by the time that Near and Mello show up, he's far more arrogant than he was when he was up against L. Light is, once more, afraid of death. He's lost that tolerance he built up in those pivotal first few days, and he goes out, not in a blaze of glory like he wanted, but clawing and pleading to live like a dog.

Light lost his recklessness, his impatience, his acceptance of the inevitable because he believed that he could now change the inevitable—all somewhere in that five year time skip.

This makes him less likely to get caught, yes, but it also takes away that—that teenage dauntlessness that he had at the beginning. Pre-skip Light feared L and L alone. Only the idea of being caught by someone who could truly tear him down frightened him. Not even death compared.

And I suppose that Light's spiralling at the end is a sort of poetic justice in this case?? But it's not the one I wanted.

I wanted Light's recklessness to blow up in his face. I wanted his carefully curated plans ruined by his own impatient hand. I wanted him to go down much as he probably first intended—in a blaze of glory. I wanted his fall to be explosive and terrifying to the audience. A moral of the story that shoots you right in the chest and really makes you think.

Instead he was reduced to just,,,,another criminal, begging for his life.

Which, yes, I suppose, is also a message in and of itself (all evil figures throughout history have only ever been human, have only ever been men that bleed red at the end of the day, and nothing they've ever done or said will change that), but I also find that....exceedingly boring.

#death note #grim rants #yagami light #light yagami #death note meta #i guess...? #im just venting my frustrations with the ending #again #i know the five year skip was supposed to show us how fast kira consumed the world and how quickly corruption spreads #but also yOU COULDVE BROUGHT NEAR AND MELLO IN WAY EARLIER #WHEN LIGHT WAS STILL THE DUMBASS THAT BUILDS FLASHBOMBS IN HIS DESKS #it wouldve so much funnier plzzzz #and more interesting in my opinion #23 yo light was kinda more of a bitch not gonna lie #like wheres the man that orchestrated a bus jacking to get one man's name?? #and then met that man in person again and made him kill his own comrades???? #WHERE'D MY ARROGANT/DESPERATE LITTLE HASTY BOY GO #he went from a zim to a mr burns and i disliked it greatly thank you

[catmansquad]

“Unstable” (4)

Right, let’s sign off this disaster caused by a crazed homewrecker with superpowers. Finale of Yandere!Miguel

‘But he was you!’ The argument had been on both their minds for the past two days. A puzzling sense of unmatching pieces that never gave any sense of resolution. Like an invisible wedge that was now stuck between them. ‘I’m not lying to you, Miguel. I didn’t spontaneously decide; “Oh, my husband’s not home, let me just grab a handsome guy off the street to get into bed with for a few days”!’ You watched Miguel’s eyes go wide, his injuries were slow to mend, but at least he looked more like himself than the haggard wraith who had all but collapsed into your arms. ‘… He’s been in our bed, too?!’ ‘I’m not lying! I’m not cheating on you! He was you, Miguel! Literally you! Same hair, same face, same voice!’ ‘I… I don’t need this… I really don’t…. I get kidnapped by a fuckin’ masked maniac, have all by belongings stolen, and spend nearly a week trying to get back home. I had to live like a beggar! Pleading with people for food and money, anything I could to get back home! When I finally do get back, I find my beloved wasn’t even looking for me! Wasn’t even worried- because they’ve got it into their head that I was never missing at all!’

‘Miguel, where are you going?!’ ‘Out! To clear my head!’ ‘Miguel!’ The holographic screen was fixed firmly upon the two of you. The room was filled even more destruction than before, more shattered screens and consoles, half-built machinery that had been scrapped, covered in deep gouges and crushed metal. Calm from his fury, Miguel paced back and forth with arms folded, keeping his eyes firmly on the screen, once again peering into your world from his own. Despite his passing fury, his anger still rolled inside him. It had just been far too good to be true; you were his, he had in his arms every night, he had kept you safe and comforted, both as himself and his alter-ego. Now that pathetic, weak, other version of him had just stepped back into your life- and he was causing you anguish and distress. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, feeling another bout of fury rising inside him. ‘Lyla…’ His eyes remained firmly on the holographic screen, teeth gritted, watching you perch on the sofa, seeming despondent. ‘What’s up? You’re looking a little tense.’ ‘I want you to keep a tracker on this other me. As soon as you see an opening, let me know.’ ‘He’s out of the house now.’ ‘No. Too soon. They need time to heal…. Time to let suspicions rest- shock it!’ He grabbed whatever was close to hand, a half-built bracelet and hurled it across the room with a snarl to shatter at the far wall. ‘He shouldn’t have come back! He should have stayed away!! We would have been happy together…. We… still can be happy together…’ His gaze returned once again to the screen, watching you in your forlorn state, a hand reaching out, as if he wished to stroke your cheek, to offer comfort. ‘… I’m right here, mi amor… I’ll be back, I promise… We’ll never be apart. Not ever again.’

‘They said I resigned.’ You looked up from your food, Miguel’s plate remained untouched, his eyes firmly on his phone, you watched his mood spiral further into anger and despair. ‘You told me that you were on vacation, Mig.’ Your saw his hand tense around his phone, the casing creaking in his grasp, a vein throbbing in his forehead out of irritation. ‘They said that I came in not long after I left and resigned “with immediate effect”… How?! I was halfway across the city being beaten black and blue! By the same guy you said saved your life! What the fuck is happening here?’ You watched Miguel place his phone aside and bury his face into his hands with a low groan of frustration. ‘My partner’s convinced I never left, I’ve been kidnapped, threatened, beaten, and now been left unemployed… How could I possibly be in two places at once? How…? What am I going to do now…?’ You reached across the table, hand resting palm up and fingers beckoning softly until he reached out to take your hand, his eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. He looked like a broken man, and you felt nothing but love and pity for the man. Even as the reasons that had led to it all made no sense whatsoever. You truly believed in Miguel’s story, yet at the same time, you knew you hadn’t imagined that your husband had also been with you for his supposed absence. Miguel squeezed your hand for reassurance, and you returned the gesture. ‘We’re going to be alright, Mig… I promise. We’ll be alright.’

Miguel had tried everything, his very best to get his career back, but to no effect. Apparently, his supposed resignation had been so sharp and intimidating that it had been accepted without hesitation. Three nights later, you were cuddled up in bed together, wrapped in the blankets. His embrace was not one of security, but one of desperate comfort, clinging to you like he was afraid you would abandon him, if he let go. Your eyes fluttered open, glancing around the dark room. What had woken you up just now? You listened; the sound of traffic in the distance, the soft breathing of your husband as he slept beside you, skinnier than he had been several days ago. Certainly, something didn’t sit right about a man who could gain and shed muscle mass in a short time. You sat up with a soft gasp, there it was again, the sound that had woken you. ‘… Miguel… Miguel…’ ‘Mm… Whasit…?’ He murmured, still half asleep, eyes barely open. ‘I... I think there’s someone outside…’ ‘Hm... ‘s probably just a fox scouring through the trash… Go back to sleep…’ ‘Foxes don’t try door handles…!’ Your voice was a conspiratorial hiss and you watched him sit up with a groan, rubbing his eyes. You both sat, ears strained against the silence, not even a whisper pierced through the quiet. ‘See? Just foxes, mi vida… Nothing to worry abou-‘ Miguel’s attempt at soothing was interrupted by a mighty crash from your garden and you watched your husband nearly leap out of his skin in fright. ‘What the fuck was that?!’ He threw back the bedsheets, grabbing his clothing from the creased pile and pulling it on scowling under his breath. ‘I swear, if it’s not one thing, it’s another… I just can’t catch a break…’ ‘Miguel, do you-?’ ‘Stay here, I’ll be right back…’

He had unlocked the back door, clutching a torch in hand, stepping outside, he shivered at the bitter chill of the night and cast the beam over the garden, nothing moved in the interplay of light and shadow. He stepped out, searching and finding the source of the crash from where the recycling bin was lying far away from where it should be, cracked and dented, like it had been thrown with considerable force, with bits of would-be recycling spilling out. ‘How the hell did this happen…?’ He shivered again, not just at the chill of night, but of feeling eyes on the back of his neck. He spun around, scouring through the darkness with the beam of light. Nothing revealed itself. ‘… I thought I’d made myself clear, pendejo…’ He went tense, fear racing through his heart at that familiar growl of a voice, again right behind him. ‘I told you to stay away. You didn’t listen. That’s very unfortunate, for you…’ Miguel steeled his nerve and turned slowly, eyes wide and breath caught in his throat, his mind tried and failed to process just what he was seeing; his own doppelganger stared back at him, eyes blazing red and furious with intent, teeth bared in a snarl with sharp fangs. ‘… W-what the fuck…?’ ‘All you had to do was stay AWAY!’ His other self punched him with the force of a truck and Miguel felt the world spin, tumbling through the air to land winded on the grass, torch clattering to the grass beside him, beam flickering. He glanced around, unable to see through the gloom, unsure of where his doppelganger was. He crawled forwards, closer to the torch, if he could just escape, he could get inside, barricade the door and stay safe with you until… Until what? Until the police came, from a call that he was being threatened by himself?! You were on his mind, protecting you was what mattered. His fingers brushed against the torch, he felt something tie itself around his ankle, and you were on his mind still as he was dragged back, screaming, into the darkness.

You had hurried downstairs, phone in hand, calming when you found the back door already locked once again, your husband by the sink, washing his hands. ‘Miguel…? Are you alright?’ He looked to you with an expression that you couldn’t quite place, but the sheer intensity behind it gave you pause, then it evaporated into a calm, loving smile. ‘Hey… I’m fine. Just foxes knocked over the recycling bin.’ ‘B… But I thought I heard… I heard you scream.’ He laughed softly, nodding. ‘Ay, stubbed my toe on the step hard, coming back in… Shockin’ stung, ow…’ His smile faded as you continued to stare at him. ‘I’m fine, mi vida… Go back to sleep. I’ll be up soon.’ You silently agreed with him and turned away, grateful that nothing else was wrong. In the dim light, you missed the swirls of water, stained crimson, running down the drain, of Miguel scrubbing clawed fingers clean. He had no such issue seeing in the dark; crimson eyes watching you leave with a relieved smirk. He focused on keeping his claws retracted, drying his hands, and then returned back upstairs to where you were already half asleep. There would be no further interruptions.

You awoke warm and safe, cuddled close in strong arms that maintained an almost possessive hold on you as you tried to squirm out of them. ‘Mm… Jus’ five more minutes, mi corazón…’ His voice purred, pulling you closer against him. You sighed and agreed with him, snuggling closer into his chest. ‘Hey, you’re buff again, Miggy…’ You noticed, hearing him chuckle in response. He was so very warm. ‘… My love, you talk as if I’m not always this fit.’ ‘You were skinny last night…’ ‘You’re getting mixed up with your dreams again, mi amor… Shh, just lay here with me… Just like this…’ He hummed softly, nuzzling into hair, one leg moving to wrap around you, pinning you even closer against his body. You were trapped in his embrace and could do nothing but lay there until he finally released you. Not a bad place to be, all in all. Soon, it would all fall apart.

All day, Miguel had been not more than a few feet from you. Showering together, cooking together, and even sat down, he did not let your body touch the sofa, you were in his lap, hugged close. ‘What did I ever do to be blessed with you…?’ He murmured, placing sweet kisses on your neck. Already your skin was covered in the lovebites he had left, and he did not seem content to stop any time soon. You squirmed in his arms, what had once been devoted and delightful was starting to raise other feelings in you now, feelings of concern and worry that were compiling with other issues your logical mind had logged. ‘… Are you alright, Mig?’ ‘I’m absolutely fine…’ He purred, hands ghosting down your body to rest at your hips. ‘…. Well, the other night you were a wreck.’ ‘I’m fine… I just want to enjoy my vacation with you…’ The gears of your logical mind clicked and spun together at the contradiction that had just left his lips. ‘Vacation? Mig you told me that you’d resigned- or that someone had said you’d resigned. You were an absolute mess because you couldn’t get your job back and now…’ You felt him freeze, lips on your neck, hands firm on your hips. He didn’t resist as you slipped free and rose to looked at him as his posture relaxed, eyes looking into your own. ‘I.. I just don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense; how I can be enjoying life with you, and then you suddenly appear on my doorstep claiming you’ve been kidnapped, and then you just suddenly snap right back like nothing’s wrong…’ ‘Mi amor, don’t be like this… Just come here…’ ‘A-Am I going crazy, Mig?... A-are you?’ You watched him freeze up again, eyes narrowing a fraction and he rose quietly from where he sat, and it was a grim, sudden reminder of how much he towered over you in height and mass. ‘…. C-crazy?’ He spoke in a soft breath, hands curling tight. ‘You think I’m crazy…?’ ‘N-no! No, I just want to understand-‘ He growled, literally growled in his throat, teeth gritted, and you were scared by the sight of his long, sharp canines. ‘… You’re thinking it too, aren’t you? Hm? Go on. Say it! Crazy. Mad! UNSTABLE!!!’ You watched in horror as he grabbed the sofa, clawed fingers ripping into the fabric as he hurled it across the room with a yell. He turned to you, chest heaving, eyes blazing red, and the horror on your face seemed to snap him from his rage and pinched the bridge of his nose with a long exhale. ‘I’m... Not angry with you. I could never be angry with you… I love you, so much, mi amor, mi vida… Just come here…’ ‘Miguel-‘ ‘Just come here!!’ He demanded, temper rising again, arms open for you. Whatever you said next was cut off by the distant, terrified screaming of your neighbour. Miguel’s head tilted as he listened, eyes firmly on you. ‘…. I think they just found that mangled mess I made of the weak, pathetic man you married… That’s alright, you don’t need him anymore. You have me now…’

In the rush of adrenaline and panic, you weren’t sure exactly how you escaped, from him, from your home. Now, you were several streets away, trying to lose yourself in the city, and thoroughly convinced that he was not following you. You had called for help, all of your friends, and all of them had refused to answer in turn. All of them refused your call, some had even blocked your number. Your husband wasn’t your husband, the man who wasn’t him had killed your husband and now he was after you. To do what? Did he plan to kill you, too?! You needed help, you needed someone who could keep you safe. You flattened yourself into the dimness of a dark alley, peeking out just to double-check that the imposter was absolutely not following. You almost had a heart attack from the sheer fear and shock of the scrape of brick and you watched the answer to your prayers slide down the wall. Spider-man was here. ‘You look like you’re scared out of your mind, someone troubling you?’ ‘Oh… Oh, please… Please help me!’ You all but threw yourself against his chest, trembling and watching him briefly flinch at your openness before a comforting hand patted your back. ‘Heh. Helping is what I do, what’s the matter now…?’ ‘M-my husband who isn’t my husband murdered my husband and now he’s coming for me, please… Spider-man, please help me…’ He hushed you softly, taking one of your hands in his own with a reassuring squeeze. ‘Of course. Of course, I’ll help. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me… You always will be…’ You didn’t notice until the sharp click that he had fastened a simple black bracelet tight against your left wrist. ‘W-what is…?’ His strong arms brought you tightly against him, one hand rubbing small circles on your back as he hushed you softly again. ‘Shh… It’s going to be alright…Te amo… Te amo, mi amor, mi vida…’ The shaky breath filled your lungs as the horror of realization settled. ‘… Oh god…’ ‘I love you... I love you, so much, it hurts…’ ‘… O-oh god…’ ‘But I really don’t think you’ll be safe here anymore… It’s gotten too messy. Too many questions to be asked by the wrong people…’ Your revelations were confirmed as the mask pixelated and fell away into glittering lights, red eyes met your own briefly, before he leaned in to kiss your neck, once, twice, then you felt the stabbing of sharp fangs, the burn accompanied by something else that left your body leaden and unresponsive. ‘There you go… There you go… Shh… It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be absolutely fine. We’re going to go somewhere safe, where we can be together, where we can be undisturbed. I can take care of you there, and you’ll come to realise that you love me just as much as I love you.’ The world behind him collapsed and fractured into a gate of swirling lights, offering brief glimpses of another place altogether. ‘… We’ll have our whole lives together…’ He bundled you in his arms, kissed your forehead gently, and carried you through.

------

So, there we are. Unstable. I do enjoy writing some darker takes on Miggy, only so I can then go to Looking Glass and counterbalance it with him being an absolute ball of wholesome, healthy love and fluff for being absolutely head over heels with his LI (See: Excerpt “Doughnuts” for example). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading about getting kidnapped by a crazy man from another world who developed an unhealthy obsession with you and couldn’t grasp why killing and replacing your husband with a buffer, better version of himself wasn’t something you were too keen on...

If memory serves me @oscarissac2099 wanted to be tagged, too. So, there’s that.

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 6:

Sunflower

Series Masterlist

previous part: Absdoughlutely next part: Beautifully Natured

Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, anxiety, and domestic abuse.

"Hello!" Your favorite voice bounced off the walls all throughout the quiet and empty bakery after the sound of the bells above the door chimed.

"Hey, honey! I'm in the kitchen!" You called out, a sickeningly delightful smile smeared across your face as you could hear his foot steps quickly approaching.

Since you we're facing away from the doorway, busy peeling and chopping apples on the big stainless steel countertops, you felt him before you saw him.

Steve's big arms engulfed you from behind as he peeped at what you were up to from above your head. "What's cookin' good lookin'?"

You laughed at his question before setting the big, freshly sharpened knife on the cutting board and ripping off your vinyl gloves. "Well for now it's just apples, but hopefully in an hour or two it'll be a whole tray of apple crisp bars ready to go for morning rush."

"Well it already looks delicious" He commented with a lopsided grin as you tossed the gloves into the trash for an opportunity to give him a proper hug.

You wrapped your arms around each other and lingered there for longer than an average hug, but who could blame you when he smelled so nice and held you so close and snug against his built chest. "They're just green apples, Honey"

"I love green apples" He stated as a matter of fact.

"Well today is your lucky day, because we have far too many so eat away" You released Steve from the hug and finally got to admire him.

It seemed as though every t-shirt he owned was one wrong move away from bursting at the seams, all while his legs just went on for miles and miles an-

"Soooooo, how can I help?" He asked, running his hand through his hair to pull it off his face.

"However you want" You smiled knowing that was his favorite answer.

If there was nothing blatantly obvious that needed to be done, he always found tasks that he loved to do. From organizing the cookie cutter bins by category in alphabetical order, to rearranging all the spools of ribbon on the long hanger to be in order of the color wheel, he always did it with a smile on his face.

At first you found it a little unnerving as if he felt pressured into needing to do something rather than just hang out with you, but after a few weeks of insisting, you finally understood he really did enjoy keeping busy any way he could. Anything that could occupy his hands and mind kept him one step closer to sanity.

"Ohh!" He lit up. "Can I finally fix that light in the bake case?"

He's quite literally been begging to fix it ever since he noticed one of the tiny lights in the bake case had been out. It wasn't enough for a customer to notice, nor was it a dire issue so it kept getting pushed to the back burner. It also wasn't as simple as just replacing the bulb, there were screws and wires and some weird metal pieces attached to weird plastic pieces...

"Be my guest, I know that would make you so happy"

"Just think of how beautiful your apple crisps will be in the morning under all of the lights, rather than all of the lights except for that one that's been out for weeks!"

"What would I ever do without you, Stevie?" You giggled as you snapped on a new pair of gloves to continue your apple chopping. "The bake case would be so dull... much as every passing day"

"Ugh, you're so lucky to have me." He joked with a sigh. "Screw driver?"

"Tool box is in the supply closet, very top shelf, back left corner." Your smile prevailed. "Did you lock the door?"

"Yes ma'am, and closed the blinds."

"Wow, at this point you're my best employee."

"And don't you forget it" Steve threw you a casual wink before disappearing into the lobby.

The light was an easy 15 minute fix, well, it would've been about five had he not lost a screw that took 10 minutes to find but he would never admit that. As he was finishing up, he heard what was almost a hissing sound coming from you in the kitchen, followed by clanking as if something had been dropped onto the metal countertops.

The sounds piqued Steve's concern, so he closed the case back up. But as he was walking back to the kitchen, he heard your little voice call out to him.

"Steve?" It was shaky and scared, something he had never heard from you before. Needless to say his walking pace turned into a jog, and when he made it through the doorway he saw you holding your hand in the other.

Your face was white as a ghost and your eyes were spacey, but the closer he got he noticed you were squeezing a bunched up paper towel to your hand and slowly swaying. He looked over to your apples to see a red puddle and the knife where it shouldn't be.

He recognized that glossy facial expression, he had seen it millions of times before on battlefield and training rooms. So he offered you a comforting smile as he approached to keep a hand on you. If you were about to pass out, he would be there to catch you.

"I um..." You started, but you couldn't quite get the words out without your internalized panic becoming very, very external. "Was cutting- then the knife slipped and I...caught it..."

"Are you okay?" He rubbed your arm as all his extensive first aid training from his days as an Avenger came flooding back to him.

"Bleeding" You stated, blinking your eyes as fuzzy darkness started to overtake your vision in invasive swirls. "A lot."

"Feelin' dizzy?" He questioned gently.

"Very." You nodded.

"Alright sweet girl, let's get you sitting down." He encouraged. You took one wobbly step before Steve stopped you in your tracks. There was no way you were going to make it to a chair by the will of your own two feet. "Okay I'm just going to pick you up."

You nodded in agreement and he swooped you into his arms like a rag-doll. You didn't even feel the need to hang on in case he dropped you, you just focused on keeping firm pressure on your hand as he took you to the front and set you down on a padded booth.

"Can I see it?" Steve questioned as he squat down in front of you. Once again you nodded and slowly pulled the paper towel away from your hand to reveal a nice slice right in the cushioned part of your palm beneath your thumb.

He inspected it the best he could but there was too much blood to even see what was going on beneath it, and when you curiously took a peak at your own hand, the black fuzzies invaded more of your vision.

"I think- I think I'm going to pass out." You mumbled.

Steve's eyes met yours in an instant when you admitted that, and he saw your ghostly white complexion had turned into bright pink cheeks and your head barely standing still. He pressed the paper towel back into your palm to block your injury from your eyesight.

"It's okay, lay down. Deep breaths." He reminded you, and assisted you on a slow and careful journey downwards on the booth. He reached over and grabbed a throw pillow from one of the lounge chairs and slipped it under your head. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"B-bathroom." You mumbled.

"Keep putting pressure on this, I'll be right back." He told you, guiding one of your hands to the other so you could firmly press them together.

You tried your best to stay awake even though you had to fight through the tunneled ringing in your ears and you lack of ability to see anything beyond the dizziness. However, you did hear his feet moving quickly around the store and the hand washing sink running.

Less than a minute later he was back and sitting on the floor in front of you, and setting down everything he had grabbed. You looked down to see him snapping on some gloves that barely fit his big hands, along with a whole roll of paper towels and both first aid kits. The calm expression on his face reminded you of exactly who he was, and what he did for most of the years of his life before he even met you.

"Here, take a few sips of water." He instructed you, cracking open a cold plastic bottle he took from the drink fridge. You did as you were told before placing the cold bottle against your hot cheeks as he sandwiched your injured hand between his two. "I'm going to see what I can do with what I have here, okay?"

"Do I need stitches?" You asked.

"I don't know yet, but I'll try my best to avoid that." He grinned before pulling the bloody paper towel off your hand. "Did you wash this already?"

"Ran it under water" You sucked in a breath as you felt gushes of thick warm liquid as he left it uncovered. Having not learned your lesson the first time, you looked again. "Oh my god..."

"Don't look at your hand, look at me." He advised you as he wiped away at the blood. It really wasn't stopping or slowing down at all, so he sandwiched your hand between his again and held it with firm pressure from both sides. "We're just going to hold hands for a while."

His reassuring smile as his eyes met yours made you feel like you could breathe again. "Well this is nice."

"Walk in the park" He agreed. "Does it hurt or can I squeeze harder?"

"Harder is okay" You agreed, so he did. It was just enough to feel your hand throbbing in his hold but not enough to cause more pain than you were already in.

"So, how was your day?" He questioned nonchalantly, trying to pull your mind away from your hand in attempts to calm you down. Plus he knew he needed a good amount of pressure to stay there for a little while.

"It was fine-busy." You answered shortly wanting to cut to the chase. "You're like, medically trained? You can give me stitches?"

"I'm trained enough to stop bullet wounds from bleeding out, and I've given stitches more times than I even remember." He reassured you. "But I have nothing here to work with, and I don't know enough to medically decide what kind of stitches would be best for this. If you need them, the best hands to be in will be a doctor's" He explained.

"Does it hurt?"

You worried eyes were killing him, but setting realistic expectations for what was to come seemed to be the best way you knew how to deal with your own fears, so he was happy to answer. "Another benefit of a doctor is that they'll numb you before. A few little shots around your hand and you'll barely feel a thing. It definitely doesn't hurt more than catching a falling knife."

You nodded with a gulp before an anxious, almost guilty admission slipped past your lips. "I'm really scared of the hospital. I know that probably sounds stupid to you but-"

"That's not stupid." He shook his head. "Most people only find themselves in a hospital when a bad thing happened to them or someone they loved. It's easy to be scared of a place like that."

"I'd rather you sew my hand together with a needle and thread and no pain killers then have a panic attack by myself in the emergency room." You continued to express your fears.

It was apparent to him now that the panic in your voice wasn't necessarily over the injury itself, but the thought of having to seek medical treatment. His first words without much thought would've been 'you won't be alone, I'll go with you', but you were smarter and more thoughtful than him. Stepping into a hospital with cameras around every square inch of the building and high security would be like locking himself in a cell.

You could see his wheels turning, trying desperately to find a solution to ease your mind before he let go of the pressure on your hand to check in on the cut. "It does actually seem to be slowing down a bit, but it looks pretty deep. Even if it closes on its own it's going to keep ripping open." He sighed.

You could tell he was contemplating the most morally correct option. He could do this himself and it would be fine, or he could encourage you to seek medical help and you'd have a not so fun night in the emergency room by yourself.

"Please" You pleaded, tears pooling in your lash line. "Georgia hates me, I have no family here, and I don't feel comfortable going with any of my other friends. We both know you can't step foot into a hospital."

"Can I ask what exactly you're afraid of?" Steve questioned gently, one of his hands still squeezing yours while the other rubbed up and down your arm to try and comfort you.

"I had a lot of really bad nights by myself at Greenwood medical." You started, unsure of how much you actually wanted to confess because you hated the way people looked at you when they found out. But Steve, maybe he would be different. Maybe he wouldn't look at you that way. "My ex-boyfriend he... wasn't very nice. And going there just reminds me of all of those times I was there alone because of him and I just- I can't go there."

His eyes softened, and his eyebrows tried hard to hide his inward emotion but he was still sympathetic. There was not much detail, but he got it now. He was done asking questions until you were ready to tell him more, and he was going to make sure you didn't have to step one single foot anywhere alone tonight.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." He sympathized, still rubbing your arm. "I have a lot of first aid supplies at home, I think I can make it work. I have a few things we can try before I sew it up, but just in case I do have a sterile needle."

You quickly nodded, accepting his offer to play doctor for you. "I'll just clean up the kitchen really quick-"

"No" He giggled as you started sitting up. "You stay here and keep putting pressure on it , I'll clean up the kitchen then take you to my house."

"I'll be fine" you insisted, but as you fully sat up a whole new wave of dizziness hit you once more.

"Just stay here." He smiled, wrapping your hand up with lots of gauze and tying cotton wrap around it as tightly as he could. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared through the kitchen door way, leaving you to lean your head back against the wall and take in some deep breaths to calm yourself down. You could hear the fridge opening and closing, the three compartment sink running, and the contents of the sanitizer bucket being dumped out before he came back to you.

He handled you with such tenderness and care as he helped get you into the car and back to his place. You didn't really even have a chance to process the new environment you were in as he urgently rushed you up the stairs and sat you on top of the en suite bathroom counter with your hand dripping blood over the sink.

He started rummaging through the cabinet and advising you to look away once more before he snapped on a new pair of gloves and aided the best way he knew he could.

Through the whole ordeal he told you exactly what he was doing before he did it, let you squeeze his hand as he sanitized it as you both knew the stinging was going to hurt like hell, then at the very end he was just as happy as you were that a bit of super glue and some butterfly closure bandages saved you from that sterile needle he told you about.

When all was said and done, it was nearing 10pm and he could just see the emotional and physical exhaustion dripping off of you. So the second the final wrapping was secured on you hand and he knew you were on the road to a smooth recovery, he gently raised the back of it to his mouth and gave it an exaggerated kiss just to make you smile.

"All better?" He asked, your eyes opening to look at him when you felt his mustache tickle your skin.

"Thank you, Doctor Rogers" You softly smiled, not having much energy left. "Your services are greatly appreciated."

"It's easy to be a great doctor when you have a great patient" He admitted. "I'm sorry, I know that hurt. On a scale of one to ten, how much of an asshole do you think I am now?"

"Zero" Your smile stretched beyond what you thought was possible. "Far less painful than the alternative."

"Good, that's all I could've hoped for." He let go of your hand. "Are you okay?"

Though the question was played off as surface level, you knew what he was really asking. Instead of answering the question with a lie, or forcing yourself into the emotional intimacy of telling the truth, you simply stuck your arms out for a hug.

He didn't hesitate to step between your legs and let you lean forward onto him before he protectively wrapped his arms around you.

The two of you stayed there for a while, but he didn't mind one bit. He ate up every second of it considering human contact in the past year of his life was few and far in between before meeting you.

"Why do you have so much first aid?" You questioned with your chin resting on his shoulder, arms happily keeping him close.

"Nat, Wanda, Sam... they all know exactly where I am. If they need a place to hide away I just want to be prepared." He explained. "Just in case something happens."

"You're a good man, Steve." You told him confidently. Somehow, talking about your hard realities felt easier like this. Being so close yet not having to see the worried facial expressions of each other as you talk about it. "Does Tony know?"

"Yeah" his voice broke, almost as if he was whispering. "He knows Bucky is in Wakanda too. He knows I broke everyone out of the raft, and didn't do anything about it when he got the call. Even if he hates me, I think there's a part of him that understands why I had to do what I did."

"How is Bucky doing?" You questioned.

"They cured him" Steve told you. "I got to talk to him yesterday. He's doing good, but even though the winter soldier is gone he has a lot of healing to do."

"Does it make you happy when you get to talk to them?" You asked knowing how much guilt he held onto.

"It does, I get a lot of peace of mind. It seems like everyone is making the time to work on themselves. Do things they've always wanted to do but haven't gotten to yet because avenging got in the way." He explained as he relaxed into you once more.

With each honest answer, you found yourself wanting to be more honest with him too.

"How about you?"

"I'm doing better. I slept through the night last night- anxiety levels are starting to creep down. I feel like I'm starting to accept that Captain America isn't who I am anymore, and that's okay." His answer sounded genuine to you. "So, I ask you again. Are you okay?"

"I wasn't." You confessed. "For a very long time, I was in a very bad place. I thought I was doomed to a lifetime of never being able to move on from how he hurt me. But I got there, and I'm doing a lot better. It's just sometimes things happen that remind me of how bad it really was, and it makes me panic out of fear of feeling how I used to. But I'm okay now."

"Where is he now?" Steve tightened his grip on you, nestling the side of his head into yours.

“Arizona"

"Do you want me to drive to Arizona and cut off his dick?" Steve offered, earning a heavenly laugh from you.

"It's okay, all that drive time isn't worth three inches." You smiled.

He laughed right in your ear before letting out a sigh. "You're right, three inches is more embarrassing than nothing at all."

You slowly let go of him and leaned back against the mirror, though Steve didn't feel ready to stop touching you yet so his hands make their way to the sides of your thighs.

"You're so sleepy" He grinned, being unable to hide how adorable he truly thought it was.

"I've been up since 4 this morning, of course I'm sleepy." You agreed.

"I'm mad at you, by the way." He stated with a sigh, mischievously raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? What'd I do?" You questioned, hyper-aware of his warm hands squeezing your legs.

"You make me enjoy your company so much that no matter how much time we spend together it's never enough." Steve explained. "And when you leave? I miss you. Why did you do that to me?"

"M'sorry." You apologized disingenuously. "What are you going to do about it? Call the police?"

"Mhm, report you for harboring a fugitive." He joked.

"How dare you?" Your eyebrows playfully furrowed and your lips tugged upwards. "Then what would happen to my stupidity handsome fugitive? I'm pretty sure he survives off of chocolate chips and almond croissants. He'd wither away without the bakery"

"He'd have to run far, far away. Find a new bakery in a different town and cry over how lame the almond croissants are compared to yours."

"How do I keep you from dialing 911?" You asked. "How could I possibly spare you from a dull life full of mediocre pastry?"

"It's simple, just stop making me miss you so much." He shrugged.

"I think that's something you'll have to work on within yourself, sweet cheeks."

"Bucky did always say I have quite the knack for becoming far too attached to the people around me." Steve explained. "But this? This was never supposed to happen. Not when I told myself I wouldn't trust anyone until I could figure out how to absolve my criminal status."

"Well told myself I'd never let another man sneak his way into my heart, but here we are." You shrugged, cheeks warming at your own words.

"Is that what's happening?" Steve asked.

"We're either living in a cloudy bubble of naïveté, or maybe we were both supposed to end up right here, right now." You sleepily let your thoughts spew out of your mouth.

You watched the well oiled gears in his brain turn and crank until he deflated. "I really care about you."

"But?" You asked, feeling your heart sink to your stomach.

"I'm going to have to leave one day." He reminded you. "I don't want to hurt you like that."

"I know that." You nodded as you took his hand into your non injured one. "But you've been on the run for almost a year now, Steve. That's a whole year of your life that you'll never get back just because you don't know where you'll have to go or what you'll have to do next. Tell me, how much longer do you think you'll have until you leave Greenwood?"

"I don't know." He whispered, trying to understand your point.

"How long until you're forgiven?"

"I don't know."

"How long until the world needs their Steve Rogers back?"

"I don't know."

"How long has it been since we've been dancing around whatever is going on here just because time is so uncertain?" You laced your fingers with his, and his thumb nervously traced stripes into the back of your hand.

"Since the moment I saw you." He admitted, cheeks glowing pink.

"It's been a long time. A really long time. Months" You reminded him. "Whether we have a whole life time ahead of us, or only five more minutes, I'd rather spend the rest of my time with you being genuinely happy instead of dully dancing around the inevitable."

"Are you going to hate me when I go?" He questioned softly. You could see the concern smeared across his face. The fear flooded his eyes and sunk his eyebrows, he really couldn't handle one more person he loves hating him.

"Nothing could make me hate you." You denied. "I understand that this can't be forever, and that's okay. I just want it for now."

His free hand made its way up to your hair before gently pulling the strands that didn't quite make it into your ponytail away from your face and behind your ear.

Thoughts were firing out of every corner of his mind and ricocheting off every surface they could. It caused a chaotic sea of emotions, and paralyzed him with lack of words as the only outcome he could think of in this moment was closing his eyes and leaning forward hoping you'd meet him halfway.

And you did. His hand traveled along with your movements, caressing the side of your face as your soft lips met his.

The kiss was long, gentle, and sweet. Both of you couldn't remember the last time butterflies filled your stomach that didn't involve cutting it really close in hand to hand combat or just barely escaping a man that wanted to do you harm.

Most people loved to offer unsolicited advice when they learned of the situation with your ex. They all advised you, butterflies aren't some romantic feeling that was meant to sweep you off your feet, it was anxiety warning you to run.

But this, this was different. They were calm, slow flutters that made you feel so warm and relaxed that running wasn't even an option. You were more so melting into his hands like a popsicle on a hot summer day, you felt like the chunks of butter atop a crumble in the oven; slowly melting and turning a good thing even better.

When you mutually pulled away because the unfortunate human need to breathe was just too much, your foreheads and noses stayed pressed together.

"I think you're braver than me." Steve admitted, thou could hear the sadness in his voice.

"Why is that?"

"You've already accepted that this can't be forever, yet I already miss you even when you're right in front of me." His throat felt like it was closing, and his heart was slowly being ripped apart in his chest.

You kissed his lips once more, then again, and again. "I'll miss you too, but we shouldn't keep wasting such a good thing while it's right in front of us. Our time together is so precious, we have a chance right now to make the most out of it." He kissed you this time, then you continued. "Sunflowers still grow when the moon is out."

"I don't know if I would still be surviving this without you." The confessions wouldn't stop flowing passed his lips at this point. "I guess that makes you my sunflower in the dark."

"You'll make it home one day." You pulled your forehead off of his. "You'll be forgiven, you'll get your family back, and when it happens I'll still be cheering you on."

"I'll tell them all about Greenwood, and how I risked everything for a sweet little baker that catches falling knifes and hides away criminals." His sadness started to dissolve when he saw how yours never arrived.

It did, but you did a good job hiding it for the sake of his own mind.

"I'm not hiding away a criminal, I'm hiding away my best friend. Big difference."

His smile stretched impossibly wide. "They'll never believe me, by the way. All of them will make jokes about it until I find my way back to you and they see it with their own eyes."

"If that's the case, you'll need to fill me in on what kind of desserts Avengers like to eat because I'll have to win them over somehow." A yawn took over the end of your words.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Steve questioned.

You shook your head. "Don't want to miss you that much."

"Okay, then how does Cars 2 and some real cuddles this time sound?"

"Like a dream come true." You smiled before taking another opportunity to steal a kiss.

"Come on, let's get you cozy." He offered you a hand to help you off the counter.

You both changed into some cozier clothes after he found you a shirt and some sweatpants of his that might've had a fighting chance at staying on your body. It earned a good laugh when you had to roll up the waistband a few times and tie the drawstring tight, but your efforts to still look a little cute in a super soldiers clothes were diminished when his shirt swallowed you whole.

Although Steve's clothes looked much better on him, you couldn't even begin to deny how comfortable you were as you slipped into his bed in his surprisingly well decorated bedroom and found yourself wrapped up in him once more.

"Tomorrow I'll help you change the bandages on your hand and drive you to work." He exclaimed while running his fingers through your hair that was now out of its ponytail and flowing freely.

"That's some real princess treatment." You drowsily mumbled, soaking in his body heat.

"I'm pretty sure that's the bare minimum of human decency." Steve challenged.

"I told the girls that I got injured at work and that I'll be going in late." You informed. "We can sleep in."

"Good, you deserve more than 12 hours between workdays."

"Nobody in the entire world would be able to wake me up before the sun if this is what I'm falling asleep to." You smiled as your eyelids were forcing you to keep them shut.

"I'm happy to have you here" Steve kissed the top of your head.

"I'm so happy to be here." You reaffirmed. "Goodnight, honey."

"Sweet dreams, Sunflower."

Next Part: Beautifully Natured

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @avid-fic-reader-05 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america #captain america fluff #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu x reader #chris evans fluff #Steve Rogers smut #captain america x you #Captain America smut #captain america fan fiction #captain america series #Steve Rogers series #nomad steve rogers #baker reader #baker #baking #marvel #marvel series #marvel x you #avengers #rogersideup #nice to be kneaded #Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #Tony stark #steve rogers fanfic

[guardian-rocket]

What GOTG Vol 3 reveals about MCU Rocket that we didn't already know

He is depressed and he knows he has 'emotionalistic issues' that prevents him from being able to help Star-Lord

Regardless he is worried about Peter.

After 7 years of friendship, Star-Lord keeps calling him a raccoon even though he knows Rocket hates it. (12 years total, -5 of the blip)

He did modifications for Nebula including creating her new versatile cybernetic prosthetic arm, and likely work on her facial implants

His wasn't built for anything other than to be learned from for science never being intended for any greater purpose

Rocket had a kill switch installed in him during his creation to protect his creators research

He can drink from a straw?

He eats grilled orloni meat

His first word was 'Hurts!' said while trembling

He was fed a false narrative he'd have a life worth his torture and obedience and that his docile nature was desirable and he was full of hope for it

He loved the other experiments he was caged with wholeheartedly and without a shred of callousness

He writes with his right hand (and in a language that goes right to left?)

He wanted to fly, this is something that is pure to him and him alone. The sky called him on a personal level.

He never intended to become violent. This happened after he got to his breaking point in losing his friend Lylla which immediate pushed him into his violent nature resulting in his first assaults and murders

Rocket's creation was physically painful and he was operated on while conscious and likely without anesthesia. Nebula says it was worse than what Thanos did to him and while we don't see the 'footage' it appears to be hard to watch from the characters who view it

Rocket's nature to steal was something he started doing out of impulse

Rocket is incredibly smart beyond what most people assumed, while some of his knowledge was rote memorization he also has a unique capability of inventiveness that was accidental, making him one of the most advanced intelligent characters in the MCU

Rocket use to not speak very well, he's add s's to the ends of words or just pair one or two words together 'What sounds?', 'We like it?'

Rocket escaped because if he didn't they were going to remove his brain (for science!)

The raccoons that Rocket was among came from North America, Earth which makes him Terran

Rocket wasn't introduced to music from Peter. He liked it since he was little (which was likely why he use to hum to himself whenever he worked at putting things together in vol 1 and listened to music while he worked in vol 2)

Rocket does sing and know words to songs (we saw a glimpse of it in the Southern Nights scene in vol 2 but we see more of it solidifying he does it often)

Rocket has his own apartment, he steals Peter's zune so frequently he even has his own dock for it (and also seems to take care of it when it's in his possession)

Rockets apartment is literally right next to Peter's

Rocket's bed is just a damaged door and a thin blanket, confirmed by Gunn that it is because sleeping on metal is what he was accustomed to

Rocket has a plant in his apartment; not important but he's a plant dad to more than just Groot

Rocket is a dancer (at least at the end of the movie)

He immediately appears to panic hearing the voice of his creator showing he has some ptsd from it (very valid)

He didn't deny being a Raccoon out of self denial or wanting to be seen for 'what' he is now, it was just a misunderstanding that he thought it was akin to a slur or something because of how he was introduced to the word (as an insult) and he embraces the name after realizing it for himself now no longer wondering if he's a rabbit or a Build-a-Bear.

Rocket was able to escape when he was basically, mentally a teenager

Rockets body was covered in braces while his body covered from the operations he underwent on his hands, legs and chest and didn't get clothes until after he escaped

Rocket has his subject number tattooed on his chest

Rocket is multi-lingual in at least English and whatever language the Star Children speak Orbose and this may likely not be just due to a translator implant like most cosmic marvel characters

Rocket has been carrying a physical reminder of his failure to his friends his entire life (the key to the cages of the lab he created from scraps he stole over his time there)

He never elaborates on his past to his friends about his origins. 'He won't talk about it'.

End of movie we see that Rocket likes discussing music (and confirms thinking Brittany Spears and Korn are good favorites)

#gotg3 #gotg3spoilers #gotg3 spoilers #gotg #rocketraccoon #rocket #long post #tw: spoilers #spoilers

[woahjo]

Hi cal! Hope you don’t mind that I followed you over from your old blog. If you’re still accepting drabbles, how about something fluffy for erwin smith? Maybe how he spends a rare morning off with his lover? Just a thought… ^^

holds u in my hands. of course i don't mind! thank you for coming over here!! also sobs quietly, fluff is my dearly beloved lately, i'd love to write this.

cw: it's literally just fluff, maybe some SLIGHT references to future angst, but it's just fluff, some mentions of titans

erwin is very dual-faced. you see it when he leaves in the early mornings for a mission or strategizing, when he readies himself in the vanity in his bedroom, fastening his bolo tie when he thinks you aren't looking. there's a look in his eyes. it's one you recognize. as a cadet, it scared you.

today, he doesn't have to go anywhere, but he rises with the dawn regardless. erwin can't really help it, rolling onto his stomach and tossing his arm over you. it wakes you gently, the weight of it pressing against your chest. you squeeze his bicep and then run your fingers along his upper arm.

"good morning," he mumbles, shifting to pull you up against him.

"hi," you say softly, soaking in the heat from his bare chest.

you search his face for something, unsure of what exactly you're looking for. that familiar expression from the mirror is gone, hardness and determination replaced by something softer. erwin smiles gently at you, studying your face before he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

"tea?" he asks quietly and you nod, watching as he stands up and moves over to the stove and kettle on the other side of the room.

erwin uses his hand to prepare the hot drink with his back is to you as he lights the burner and sets the metal pot down with a soft clink. you watch the muscle in his bare back move, flexing and shifting as he quietly moves about a rare, slow morning routine.

you smile as he walks the tea over to you with a slightly shaky hand, taking the mug from him with a grateful smile before he goes back with his own. then, he comes and sits down again with you on the bed, sipping the liquid.

on mornings like this, you think that erwin may have been built for a different kind of life. you imagine that, in a better world, he's a doting husband with time enough to devote to his partner. he seems to be, at his core, a family sort of man who may have appreciated a quiet life. then again, what sort of family man makes the choices that he does?

"what are you thinking about?" erwin says, setting his mug down in his lap and lightly touching the side of your face.

"the world when all of this is over," you say, tilting your head at him.

erwin's eyes harden for a moment before they go soft again and he steadies the cup in his lap as he leans forward to kiss you.

"that's a nice daydream," he mumbles against your mouth.

"mmm," you hum, "i think so too."

you can't blame his decisions. you've seen what he has, the monstrousness of titans. you've felt the ice cold fear as you stare one down, fingers trembling around the switches of your odm gear. you can't blame him, but a part of you can't accept it either.

you suppose that's what makes mornings like this so deeply precious. the air of false pretense. of a normalcy that hardly exists since the appearance of the beast titan.

"think we should buy a house together?" erwin says with small smile, setting his mug down on the nightstand and raising his arm for you to crawl under it.

"i dunno," you say. "depends where."

"maybe somewhere with farmland," he muses. "away from the city and the barracks."

"like you'd ever want to be so far from the corps," you snort with a laugh.

"i might," he says seriously. "if we actually do this."

"you mean solve and fix it?"

erwin nods, smiling to himself as he imagines a life with you.

"i think you might like a dog," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"we could get a dog now," you respond with a laugh, drumming your fingers against his chest.

"hange already sort of fills that role for me," erwin snorts. "they're high maintenance."

you laugh and erwin follows, thinking fondly of your overeager and somewhat twisted mutual friend.

there's a moment of silence where you both soak in the morning. sunlight pours into the windows, illuminating the wooden chamber and all of its precious amenities afforded to the commander of the survey corps. mornings like these are so rare, rarer still with the turmoil, and it has you both thinking in romantic hypotheticals.

"i love you," he says quietly, his rich baritone voice low next to your ear.

you tilt your head to look at him, holding mug of tea on his chest, cooled enough now to be warm on his skin.

"i love you too," you answer with a gentle smile.

erwin leans down and kisses you again, slower this time, like he's tasting you. his sleep swollen lips move languidly against yours and his thick eyebrows are relaxed as he lets himself breathe you in. you sigh, just pleased enough to be here with him now. plenty of time to be greedy later.

#cal care package #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #aot x reader #i don't write often for erwin this was a fun exercise #hopefully i did him justice omg #cal.writing #char.erwin

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Brand of Shame - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco corners Viktor and strips the secrets bare.

Literally.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"He offered his hand," Silco says. "In exchange for Zaun’s disarmament."

"Peace," Viktor rejoins. "And shared progress."

"Progress." Silco's rage sluices in. "With my daughter as the price."

There is no need for Viktor to feign shock. His eyes speak volumes. Talis did not share this detail. The man he built a legacy with, shoulder-to-shoulder. Yet he did not share, and that, too, is a choice.

"Perhaps," Viktor says, a little shakily, "he meant it as a compromise."

"Symbolic atonement?"

"Jinx took lives—"

"And the lives Talis took? Do they weigh nothing?"

"What do you mean?"

No slip this time; only a stumble into a blind spot.

Silco will drag him six feet under. With a smile.

"I see. He didn’t share that either." He steps closer. "He came belowground—" him and Vander’s bitch "—Enforcers in tow. Destroyed my factory. Injured a number of my workers. Spilled Shimmer. Blood too. A boy in my employ."

"A boy?"

"Son of a chem-baroness. He wanted to learn the ropes. So I took him in." The prerogative of the Eye is to take, and Silco's empire has taken thousands. Some have become informants. Others, assassins. A few have risen higher: Dustin. Ran. Jinx. But this boy— "A month into his apprenticeship, Talis killed him."

"That—" Viktor's face contorts. "That’s not possible."

"I saw his body."

"Jayce would never—"

"Wouldn't he? To kill the rot before it spreads?" He's close enough to see the pulse throbbing in the young man's throat. To see his own reflection in the glass: the monster, rising. "Why not ask him? He used Hex-tech to deal the killing-blow."

"What?"

"His hammer." Silco's lip curls. "Your prototype, I believe."

"That is not—Hex-tech was never intended for—"

"Intention is irrelevant once the bodies pile up." Silco looms closer. "Ask him. See if he denies it." The threat seeps like blood. "See if he lies."

Viktor's eyes flare.  The fear is back. But it's not Silco he's fighting. It's himself.

"No," he breathes. "That’s impossible."

"Then why listen to me?" Silco's hand covers Viktor's gloved one. The boy’s fingers twitch, caged in bone. "Why seek out liars and cheats and killers? Your place is Topside. With the boy you built a golden dream with." His grip tightens. "Or is there something about us, in the dark, that Talis can't give you?"

"Jayce," Viktor grits, "is a good man."

"As are we all, when the world's on our side." Silco's knuckles sharpen on Viktor's wrist. "When our back's to the wall, we become something else."

Viktor's twitch deepens into a tremor. "Let me go."

"I can. Or I can show you the truth."

"The truth…?"

"You came below because you sought something. You knew that Topside, Talis—they would not give it. You needed a place where your questions wouldn't be met with silence."  Silco's palm slips off, and up: to Viktor's bare wrist. His flesh is a shock. Cold sweat on colder steel. "Here, there is no silence. No walls." A whisper. "No limits."

"Wait—"

Too late. Silco’s fingers curl into the heel of Viktor's glove. With a tug, the fabric slithers off.

And the chimera, in his full glory, emerges.

"See?" Silco murmurs. "Nothing to fear."

Viktor's right hand is augmented. Steel from the palm to the wrist. Sleek and tapered, the surface etched with indigo striations resembling filigree. The tendons stand out, a webbing of wires welded to the bone. Each digit is capped in a metal claw, piercingly sharp. There are no sores; no signs of scar tissue. The transition from meat to metal is seamless.

Viktor is no longer bound to the flesh. He has transcended. And yet...here he is, clinging to the wreckage.

"You're ashamed," Silco says. "You shouldn't be."

"How could I not be?" Viktor's eyes are haunted. "What I have become...what I have done..."

"You have survived."

"She did not." His fist clenches. A spasm runs through his arm, a jagged ripple. "Sky—she’s gone. I failed her. I failed everyone. The only thing I can do now is make it right. Somehow. If I am still a man worthy of doing so."  He looks at his hand. The cabled tendons appear to thrum, pushing through the unnatural varnish of alloy. "If I am still a man at all, and not—"

Silco sets his fingertips on Viktor's bare knuckles. The steel radiates a smooth chill. 

"A monster?"

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane viktor #viktor #arcane jayce #jayce talis #arcane hextech #arcane shimmer #arcane sky #sky young #skyvik #jayvik #jayce x viktor

[dreamy-jaeger]

I Know the End | Ch. 2

Zombie Apocalypse!Au, Older!Grumpy!Eren x Sunshine!Reader

Content: Reluctant traveling companions to lovers, Slight age gap, found family, eventual smut so Minors - DO NOT INTERACT.

Chapter Summary: As the night continues, everyone gets to know each other just a little bit more. 

Masterlist

A/N: omg chapter 2 is here!!! idk if I’m going to be able to keep up with a weekly release so don’t get too comfortable hehehehe, but i had this chapter all ready to go so i thought, why not post it! I hope you enjoy!! I want to thank the beautiful wonderful fantastic @emepe​ for beta reading this (as she does for literally everything i write) she is a genius so if you haven’t already please check out her wonderful blog :)))

chapter 2

Eren’s P.O.V

The cabin was quiet. Not suspiciously quiet. But it was the first quiet afternoon that Eren had witnessed in years. These days you were lucky to go even one minute without hearing the horrors of this world. And now here Eren sat, getting whole hours filled with those sweet, silent minutes. Save the interruptions that were gifted from the crackling fire he had started up in the stone fireplace and the occasional creak of the floorboards that filtered in through the kitchen door, no doubt coming from the stranger that had infiltrated their refuge.

It was safe to say that Eren was reluctant to let this woman stay the night. Which was the nice way of putting how he felt about it. He was so close to ending her life. To rid himself of yet another burden. But something stirring deep in his stomach forced him to hold back. Maybe it was the idea of murdering a woman who did nothing more than help them. Or maybe it was the words she used. Or the way she felt under his arms…

Or maybe, he didn’t want to be stuck with her damn dog if he did kill her. Surely Gabby would’ve made him keep the thing, not wanting her to be without an owner. And no matter how many different endings to this encounter he had thought through, whether the woman stayed alive or not, he knew that the dog was now a nuisance in his life. At least for the time being. Confirmed by the way the dog sat up straight, posted in front of the door, her eyes trained on him from the other side of the room.

“Fucking creepy ass dog.” He muttered under his breath as he stared back from his spot on the couch. His arm outstretched on the back of the furniture, his knees spread, giving barely any room if someone had wanted to sit next to him.

“What was that?” Gabby asked, her eyes flicking up from the comic book in her hands, her legs dangling off the side of the plush armchair that she had perched on the moment that Eren gave her the signal that they were in the clear.

“Nothing.” Eren told her. The young girl narrowed her eyes at him. Surely knowing he had more to say about the situation they found themselves in. All these months together, from the moment he found her abandoned by her own group, she had found a way to read through the rough interior he had built up over the years. She opened her mouth to call him out on his bullshit, something she had a knack of doing, but before any snarky words could leave her lips the kitchen door swung open.

“Good news, Eleanor, these people had a dog.” Y/N grinned as she practically skipped into the living room, various cans collected in the crooks of her arms.

Ellie finally stopped her staring contest with Eren, bounding up to her owner and jumping at the sight of food. 

“Nothing for humans unfortunately.” She told the rest of the room, setting the cans she collected onto the dining room table that sat in front of the window overlooking the meadow. “I think someone might’ve broken in through a window or something. Raided through this place and took all the good stuff”

“That’s fine.” Eren said, “We have our own rations.”

“Good, ‘cause Ellie doesn’t like to share.” She teased, turning towards the backpack she discarded by the front door, procuring a metal dog bowl from its confines. Eren rolled his eyes as Gabby snickered into the pages of her comic book. 

A flash of silver glinted throughout the room, Y/N’s knife reflecting light gifted by the fire as she punctured the can of dog food. Scooping out the entirety of its contents, the sludge plopped into the bowl, sounding completely unappetizing to anyone who wasn’t a dog.

“Eat up, sweet girl.” Y/N cooed softly as she pushed the bowl closer to her companion, who dug into the food without hesitation. Eren didn’t even realize he was watching her until she spoke again. He quickly averted his gaze to the fire, not looking up until he felt her presence shift into the empty armchair that sat directly in front of the couch. He chanced another look at her. Luckily she was preoccupied with another can she must’ve gotten from her backpack, the label advertising the Sweetest Peach You’ll Ever Eat.

“Do you want some?”

Eren stared too long. She held up the can with a raised eyebrow, as if that was what caught his attention.

“No.” He said curtly, looking back at the fire.

“How about you?” The woman turned her attention towards the kid. 

“Are those peaches?” Gabby sat up straight, her interest piqued. Comic forgotten as it slid to the floor.

“They sure are.” She laughed, “You interested?”

“Fuck yeah!” Gabby exclaimed, greedily snatching the can from Y/N’s outstretched hand. She didn’t bat an eye at Gabby’s abrasiveness. She simply laughed, sitting back in her seat as she watched the teenager indulge herself. Eren had to give her props. He definitely wasn’t as forgiving when he first met her. 

“Don’t fucking swear.” Eren grunted towards the girl.

“Such a double standard.” She said through a mouthful of peaches, passing the can back to Y/N and rolling her eyes in the process. “And you know how I get around peaches.”

“You like them?” Y/N asked, interrupting any snide remark Eren had, tilting the can towards her lips so she could have a taste herself.

“They’re my favorite.” Gabby told her, crossing her legs beneath her, the leather surface of the chair squeaking as she did.

“Mine too.” Y/N smiled at the girl after she swallowed. “I have a couple of cans if you wanna take one.”

Gabby’s eyes lit up, her mouth opening to express some form of gratitude. Eren interrupted her before she could.

“Are you sure you wanna give up your supply like that?” He asked her, eyes narrowed. Y/N raised a shoulder in a half shrug.

“Why not?” She responded, “I have plenty where that came from. It’ll lighten my load.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Gabby piped up, seemingly remembering her manners in a matter of seconds and perhaps finding fault in her eagerness to take someone else’s rations from Eren’s question, “Food is a hot commodity these days.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Y/N assured her, “Besides with any luck I won’t have to worry about food for much longer.”

“What, are you planning some sort of suicide?” Eren deadpanned. Gabby’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening at him in disbelief. He didn’t notice her warning stare, his eyes trained on the woman in front of him. 

“I was thinking murder-suicide.” The woman smirked without batting an eye, “Much more classy, don't you think?”

“She’s kidding.” Gabby laughed nervously as she noticed Eren’s jaw clench, and then in a hushed tone towards Y/N, “You’re kidding right?”

“I’d be dead if I weren’t, wouldn’t I?” She responded, nodding towards Eren’s hand, which hadn’t moved from the gun that sat on his waist the minute he had sat down. “I think your friend might have a sense of humor, after all.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Eren murmured, flexing his hand over his gun, making sure the woman noticed.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Y/N articulated, sarcasm dripping from her words.

“As opposed to your cynicism?” Eren retorted. “You know I’m surprised that you made it this far, with an attitude like that.”

“Oh and you survived on what?” Y/N questioned, “The stick up your ass?”

“Okay!” Gabby interrupted, jumping up from her seat, garnering the attention from everyone in the room before a full on shootout transpired in the small cabin, “Let’s change the subject.”

“Why won’t you be needing your food?” Gabby then asked, sitting back down on the chair, her feet planted properly on the floor this time, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

“It’s where I’m headed.” Y/N explained, “I heard there’s a safe zone in Shiganshina. They have food, walls… everything.”

“You really believe that?” Eren scoffed, crossing his arms, “Every government sanctioned safe zone was torn apart within a week of this starting. You’re not going to find anything.”

“That's the thing, it's not the government.” Y/N replied, making it a point to ignore the rudeness in his tone. “This one was made by people. People just like you or me. Remember what I told you? The best things that happen are when we come to work together. It’s the best chance of survival.”

“How do you know this place even exists?” It was Gabby’s turn to question her, though she had far less skepticism in her voice than her older counterpart. It even sounded like there was a hint of hope in her question. 

“Word of mouth.” Y/N said, a tad too vaguely for Eren’s liking. She seemed to have noticed his disinclination when she continued on. “It’s not much to go off of but it’s better than just wandering around out there trying to find new ways not to die.”

Silence fell over the room at her unexpectedly morbid choice of words, a contradiction to the usual carefree demeanor that they had gotten used to during the short amount of time they had spent together. Y/N was the first to speak up again.

“I think that safe zone might be the only chance to actually have a future.” She said softly. “If you want to join me?”

Gabby looked at Eren, something flickering behind her eyes that gave him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“We’ll take our chances.” He said simply, hoping that the finality of his words would end the conversation.

“You really want her to grow up like this?” Y/N asked, taking Eren by surprise. His eyebrows knitted together, letting the question hang in the air. He was a little pissed off that she was acting like she knew what was best for the kid, as if she had any right to put in her two-cents. But what ticked him off even more was that she might be onto something.

Sure, the two of them had made it this far. They were used to the lifestyle, coming and going and never truly having a place to call home. Surviving was second nature. And Eren seemed to have a certain knack for it. But even he knew that their luck would eventually run out. And he couldn’t keep both the girl and himself alive forever. Maybe this offer that was being handed to him so effortlessly, was something worth taking.

“Like I said, there's a future there for her.'' The woman spoke up, pulling Eren away from his thoughts. Then added, with a teasing tone, “And who knows, maybe there’s one for you too, old-timer.”

“Old-timer?” Eren scoffed through Gabby’s laughter that pierced the room. Though he was slightly grateful for the distraction from making any big decisions. “I’m not that much older than you.”

“I’d say you’re at least a decade older than me.” Y/N said, trying to hide her grin. “Give or take a few years.”

“I’m thirty-two.” Eren snapped, weirdly becoming defensive over his age. Something that he had never felt the need to do before. It was as though he needed to prove something to this woman, who was now staring at him with an amused expression.

Y/N clicked her tongue in feigned disappointment, “Four years off.”

“How old are you?” Gabby asked, clearly too lazy to do the math. Even if Eren had been taking the time to teach her throughout the quiet moments of their journey. Though, she did always hate when he forced her to answer complicated math questions while they traveled through the countryside. She would complain about why she would ever have the need to know multiplications when they should be focused on surviving. Eren always argued that it was best to keep a sharp mind.

“Twenty-six.” Eren answered for her. 

“You must’ve been young when this whole thing started.” Gabby said, thoughtfully.

“I was eighteen.” Y/N shrugged, “Not as young as you were, I’m sure.” 

“I was six.” Gabby confirmed, her voice small, her gaze finding its home on the toes of her boots.

Eren watched as Y/N’s eyes softened towards the young girl. It was obvious what she must have been thinking. That six was far too young for anyone to survive in this world. That there must be some unimaginable horrors that she must have seen for her to be alive today. A subject Eren knows all too much about since getting to know the girl. Though he found that all out by happenstance and context clues. He wasn’t the type of man to pry into someone else’s backstory. And it seemed that Y/N was the same way. Any question she might’ve had was kept to herself as she glanced over at Eren, their eyes meeting. An unspoken sense of understanding bouncing between their irises.

They were interrupted by the sound of Ellie’s claws clicking against the wooden floor. 

“Finished eating?” Y/N said to her dog, reaching out her hand to pet her head as she expected Ellie to stop at her side. Strangely enough, the dog barely glanced her way, she just padded along, not stopping until she jumped on the couch, turned in a circle to find the most comfortable position and then slumped down with a huff next to Eren, who stiffened at the dog’s presence.

“Traitor.” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. Though she seemed unsurprised when Ellie chose to sit by a stranger they just met rather than her.

“I think she likes you.” Gabby laughed.

“The feeling is not mutual.” Eren asserted, his voice low like he was being acquainted with his worst enemy. Both Y/N and Gabby laughed, not realizing he was serious. Or maybe they did and that’s what made it so funny.

“She’s always been like that.” Y/N told them, turning back to her forgotten peaches.

“Like what?” 

“She finds the person who likes her the least in the room and then sticks to them like glue.” Y/N explained, “She was like that with my dad.”

“Your dad didn’t like her?” 

Y/N’s lips turned up in a small smile. “Nah, he only pretended to hate her. Deep down I think he really loved her. He was secretly a big old softie. I think Ellie can sense stuff like that.”

“If you are insinuating that I’m a ‘softie’...”

“I don’t know, I think she might be onto something.” Gabby giggled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not insinuating anything.” Y/N said, lifting her hands up in reassurance, “Though the dog is never wrong…”

“Okay, I’m done with this.” Eren chided, standing up from his seat on the couch, Ellie’s head lifting up in curiosity as he did. “I’m going to check for potential points of entry. You two would be smart to find something useful to do.”

“Back to business.” Gabby grumbled, rolling her eyes as he crossed the floor. His heavy footfalls caused the cabin to creak and groan under his boots.

“I saw that.” Eren snapped before disappearing into one of the random doors that led to rooms unknown.

Y/N’s P.O.V

“Is he always like that?” Y/N asked, nodding her head to the door that Eren just left through. Gabby looked towards the direction in which she gestured, an indignant sigh escaping her lips.

“Pretty much.” Gabby responded, slumping in her seat, not at all taking Eren’s orders seriously.

“How can you deal with all that?” Y/N questioned, holding out the can of peaches towards the younger girl. Gabby looked at her apprehensively, as if she was unsure if she should take more of the woman's dinner.

“I’m full.” Y/N reassured, “You can finish them.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to waste any food.” Gabby rationalized, causing a chuckle to fall from Y/N’s lips as she eagerly grabbed the can from her. Wasting no time to tip the sweet fruit onto her tongue. Any decorum lost as she spoke through a full mouth, “And, don't get me wrong, there are some days where he annoys the hell out of me… but he’s a good guy.”

She swallowed at her food thickly. Y/N almost thought she was going to choke. But that wasn’t the case. Maybe it was just hard for the girl to admit. Which was proven to Y/N when Gabby’s demeanor shifted into something more serious.

“He’s kept me alive. Which is saying a lot since I annoy him most of the time too. I’m surprised he hasn’t ditched me.”

“You guys aren’t related?” Y/N asked, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“No.” She explained, and Y/N would have been fine if she stopped at that, she wouldn’t want to force the kid to talk about things that made her uncomfortable. But maybe something about the older woman had gotten Gabby to trust her, it took Y/N by surprise when she kept speaking.

“I was— I had… gotten separated from my group. I was alone for maybe a week or two when Eren found me in an abandoned warehouse. I didn’t have much food so I was practically dying of starvation, I couldn’t put up much of a fight. He could’ve killed me… or at least kept walking. But he decided to help.” 

“You must not annoy him that much then.” Y/N offered. Gabby blew air out of her nose in silent laughter.

“Trust me I do.” Gabby said, “I make a point of it.”

Y/N laughed at that. “Good, it’ll keep him on his toes.”

A grin was shared between the two of them. A moment noticed where they had found a kindred soul. It was strange for Y/N. It had been a long time since she had made a friend. And she never would have expected that her first friend in years would be a teenage girl. But she could already tell that they would get along just fine. Maybe she could get along with Eren too, if this girl was his saving grace.  

“It’s obvious that he cares about you a lot.” Y/N observed.

“Really?” Gabby asked, almost as if she didn’t believe it. Y/N wondered if she would even believe that he had a knife to her throat only a couple of hours before, in the name of her protection. She obviously wouldn’t disclose that information with the girl, knowing it might upset her. But Y/N couldn’t hold a grudge against Eren for his actions. She understood exactly what brought him to do it. Y/N nodded with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” Y/N replied, “I can tell he’s a good guy.”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t really like him.”

“I don’t.” Y/N admitted,  “But like I said— the dog is never wrong.” 

Eren’s P.O.V.

He had walked into a bathroom. Though it seemed his exit had ended with a dignified resolution (or a dramatic flourish as Gabby would put it), he felt foolish as he stood there, barely anywhere to move in the small tiled-room. The closer the walls were the bigger his ego felt. And Eren hated it. 

But since he didn’t want to admit defeat and go back into the living room, he decided that there might be something useful in here. So he pushed away any frustration he felt from the previous conversation and pressed on. 

The metal of the faucet lever was cold on his fingers as he flicked it on. Nothing came out. Which wasn’t a surprise, clean, drinkable water hadn’t been easy to come by during these times. But Eren still had hope that one day, in one of these abandoned houses, his luck would change. Looked like it wasn’t today. 

Next was the cabinet behind the mirror, picked through from the looks of it, the only thing that was left were some stray cotton swabs. An annoyed sigh fell from his lips as he let the cabinet door swing shut, the mirror rattling a bit as it fell back into place. His eyes met his own in the reflection.

It’s been a long time since he observed his own features. Vanity was one thing that had to be quickly forgotten if you wanted to survive. He never cared much for his looks, but damn, he has seen some better days. Now it made sense why Y/N thought he was so much older. He looked so tired and… angry. And the few stray gray hairs that were strewn throughout his hair did not help. Nor did the five o'clock shadow. He ran a hand over his mouth, feeling the rough skin under his palm.

Eren examined himself for only a second longer, before shaking his head and crouching down to see if there was anything under the sink. There wasn’t much there either, save for some gauze (which he pocketed) and a box way in the back, tucked behind the piping. 

When he pulled the box free from its hiding spot he found it was a box of tampons. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he thought of the mortifying situation of having to hand this over to Gabby. But he knew these were a gold mine for her. And if he had to be traveling with a teenage girl he might as well make the ride easier for him. Maybe he could find a way to sneak it into her backpack. The box found its home next to the gauze in his pocket. 

As Eren stood to take one more glance around the room, a loud bang sounded out from the other side of the door. In one swift moment his gun was back in his hands, the door slamming against the wall from how quickly he exited the bathroom. His heart was beating loudly in his chest. Please let the kid be alive.

He expected to find blood, a body, or any other horrifying thing his mind could come up with. What he saw instead, was a mattress in the middle of the room, the furniture spread out, and the two girls huffing from exertion. Ellie was still on the couch, her tail thumping against the leather in a form of contentment. 

“That thing was heavier than I expected.” Y/N said, placing her hands on her hips. Gabby nodded in agreement before flopping down on the mattress, her limbs sprawled out across the plush surface.

“What are you doing?” Eren asked, placing his gun back in its holster.

“Sleeping arrangements.” Gabby answered, propping herself up to look at Eren, “It was Y/N’s idea. She said it would be like a ‘slumber party.’”

“I used to do this with my friends freshman year of college— Well the only year of college…” Y/N trailed off, and a glimpse of who this woman was before this hell broke out flashed before Eren's eyes. He shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“Anyways, you get the picture.” Y/N waved off, “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun isn’t something we can afford these days.” Eren countered, stepping further into the room.

“Don’t worry, there’s something in it for you too.” She replied, that teasing tone hinting through her words once more. “You can keep an eye on her and the traitorous murderer you think that I am all at the same time. If that isn’t what you consider fun, then I got you pegged all wrong.”

Eren’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared at her. She held her ground as he did, her smile not once faltering. 

“Fine.” He said gruffly, after a minute of chewing it over. Y/N’s smile shifted into a grin at his response, Gabby exhaled an excited ‘yes!’ from the bed.

“Then it’s settled.” She grinned, “I’ll get the rest of the blankets.” 

“You do that.” Eren breathed, as he moved to find his spot back on the couch. He rubbed at his eyes, already exhausted from this woman’s added energy. 

“Psst.” He heard from the floor. He moved his hand to look at Gabby. Though she must’ve thought her first attempt at garnering his attention fell flat, as a throw pillow came flying at his face. It bounced off his forearm, which he lifted in defense just in time. 

“What?” He hissed.

“I like her.” She whispered. Eren paused, taking in the hopeful features of the teenager in front of him. 

“Don’t get attached.” He said simply. 

“Why not?” Gabby argued, still in her hushed tone. “She could make us stronger. Help us out, you know?”

Eren considered this. It was true, this woman seemed to know what she was doing when it came to surviving. And there was strength in numbers. But she would be another mouth to feed. Another person to keep alive. Plus her stupid dog. 

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Eren decided, not wanting to go back and forth on the pros and cons list. “Get some sleep, kid.”

“Ugh, fine.” Gabby groaned, flopping back down on the mattress.

Their conversation had ended just in time as Y/N returned to the room, her arms stuffed with more pillows and blankets. 

“I haven't slept in a real bed like this in months.” She told them as she dumped the blankets onto Gabby. 

“I don’t think I ever slept in a bed like this.” Gabby responded, sitting up from under the pile, pillows falling pathetically onto the floor. “This thing is huge.”

“It’s a king. These people were probably rich.” Y/N agreed, lifting up one of the blankets, and kicking the rest of them onto the floor. Gabby took her cue and got up and watched as Y/N started making the bed. She flicked the edge of a sheet so it floated above their heads before fitting nicely over the mattress. As she did the same with the rest of the blankets, Gabby would help to make sure each one was spread evenly.

“What about you?” Y/N asked as they did so. 

“What about me?” Eren replied, assuming she was talking to him by the way she nodded at him when she asked.

“When was the last time you slept in a bed like this?”

Eren looked down at the now nicely made bed, Gabby placing down the pillows at the top, everything looking so much more expensive than anything he had owned in his previous life.

“Never.” He answered honestly. 

“Then you should try it out.” Y/N responded, her words seemingly genuine, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Eren scoffed. “I’ll keep watch.”

“You’re going to stay up all night?” 

The look he gave her must have answered Y/N’s question. Her lips pursed in a thin line, almost like she was unhappy. But she didn’t argue with him, which came as a surprise. He was bizarrely grateful. It had been a long day and he didn’t have the energy. It seemed that she didn’t either.

“Is it alright if I share this with you?” She then asked Gabby. Eren opened his mouth to protest, still untrusting of this woman, but like always he was late to the punch.

“Of course.” Gabby answered, way more trusting than Eren ever would be. “This thing is huge, I’d feel bad if you’d have to sleep on the floor.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at her, grabbing a pillow and placing it at the other end of the bed, apparently still considering the space that should be kept between strangers.

Those were the last words that were spoken for the night. Soon shoes were tugged off, heads were on pillows and the sounds of soft, steady breathing filtered into the room. Slowly but surely. 

Eren’s eyes stayed wide open, his gaze fixed on the dying embers of the fire.

~

Eren was running. Razor sharp branches reached out from either side of him, cutting up the skin of his arms and legs. He heard the moans and groans grow louder and louder behind his back, knowing they were gaining on him. His heart was pounding in his ears, his legs were killing him. Somewhere through the growling and his panicked breathing he heard a voice, someone calling to him. Hope sparked deep in his stomach and he knew that if he could only get to where that voice was coming from, only then would he be safe. He reached a hand out. His foot caught on a root. He was falling to the ground and then—

He was awake. He startled up straight in his seat, a quilt slipping off of his chest as he did. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion at the fabric that was crumpled across his legs.

“Are you okay?” 

It was Y/N. His eyes found her at the other end of the couch, her features illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the windows, the fire now completely out. Her fingers smoothing over Ellie’s head which was resting in her lap. He put two and two together, realizing that she must have been the culprit behind the blanket. Huh.

Eren looked around the room, trying to catch his bearings. Snores emanated from the curled up figure on the bed he knew to be Gabby. Everything else was quiet. There was nothing coming.

“How long was I out?” He asked, ignoring her first question. 

“I’m not sure.” Y/N shrugged, “You were asleep when I woke up. Decided to take over the watch since you were… preoccupied.”

“Did anything happen?” 

“Nothing of note.” She responded. Eren let out a deep sigh, his body visibly relaxing into the couch. He let his head fall back against the edge of the furniture, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed at nothing.

“Bad dream?”  Y/N inquired, shifting in her seat to face him. Ellie huffed, obviously annoyed at having to remove herself from her previous comfortable position. She curled up closer to Eren. Y/N didn’t seem to mind. And strangely neither did he. 

He stole a look at her sideways. “Is it that obvious?”

“I doubt anyone’s having any good dreams these days.” She replied. He nodded in agreement.

“What was it about?” 

Silence fell over the cabin once more as Eren contemplated her question. He was never really the type to indulge in these types of conversations, but she was here and she was asking, so why wouldn’t he? If only for tonight.

“The usual.” Eren sighed, “Running away from those horrible things… Not making it in time.”

It was Y/N’s turn to nod, only this time in understanding. “Yeah, that’s what woke me up too.”

“What was yours about?”

The subtle surprise that flitted across the girl's face matched how Eren felt when the words tumbled out of his lips. He wasn’t even sure if he really cared for the answer. But as he waited for her response it sort of felt like he did. Maybe it was something about what she had said earlier. He wanted to get to know her. 

“It’s the same every night.” She said, her voice turning into a soft hush, “I lose her every single time.”

Eren watched as Y/N’s hand dropped onto her dog, her fingers intertwining through the black fur.

He knew those kinds of dreams all too well. If he doesn’t wake up before the initial fall, that’s when he realizes he’s all alone, surrounded by those monsters. He had failed. The one thing he promised her. He didn’t protect her. 

His eyes rose up from her hand, meeting her irises. It was dark, so he couldn’t be sure, but he swore that her eyes were shining with unshed tears, reflected by the small bit of moonlight. The beating heart in his chest stirred in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable. He never knew how to deal with other people's emotions. Though the one thing he did know, was that behind those tears was genuine fear. Fear of loss. Fear of being left alone in this world. Fear of failure. It was the exact same feeling that hid behind his own teal eyes. It was what he saw in the mirror in that tiny bathroom. An epiphany hit him in the dark of the night. 

He drew in a breath.

“We’ll go with you.” 

~~~

A/N: omg!!! so he decided to tag along with Y/N (like we didn’t all see that coming 🙄) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! please don’t be afraid to message me too! I’d love to talk to you guys about this fic (or anything for that matter!) ILY ALL!!! (oh also i promise I’ll make a masterlist post for this soon i’m just very lazy)

Taglist: @large-juice @dududubebo @jaegersdiary​ (message me or comment if you want to be added!)

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#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot x reader smut #snk x reader smut #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut

[yourlocaltreesimp]

niiiice, been wanting to request stuff from you; your posts kept me going through this hectic week lmaooo

In this case, can I request a Four x chubby reader fluff? Mans been through a lot recently and needs to lay down and I have enough plush for him and/or the colors. Maybe even give him a massage? I just know his shoulders ache from all that smithing and swingin his sword around, I know mine does and all I've done is sit through lectures :")))))

-- altumsomnum

ofc, ofc! @altumsomnum

Tw: Nothing really, It’s fluff!

A well earned break

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Four was a busy man, that went without saying. He manned the repairing for weapons, kept a lot of the morale up, and -although as chaotic as his brothers- occasionally acted as a voice of reason. But a voice of reason is only good if there’s someone there to listen, morale often ran low with the manner of their journey and ‘goddamnit wild- I just made that!’ can only be said so many times. Burnout was an end to his exhaustion more than he’d often admit, so much energy spent and not enough time to replenish he often found himself bargaining between what he wanted and what others did. From commissions, to Heroism and now to travelling. And when both forces got too strong, all he was left with was discoordination. Both in the literal and metaphorical sense. The colours each trying to find their own way out of a problem only solved when united and his schedules slowly slipping from their norms.

That is where he found himself, staring blankly at the iron in his hands as he tried to bring himself to any conclusion as to what he should do with it. The familiar sight of his home was a welcome change, proud to see the world he grew ever so familiar with surrounding himself oncemore. The work, however, held no grace nor mind to this. It built and built, leaving him with a growing list of responsibilities. But there was only so much his drained mind could do. He sighed, setting the metal down and stretching out his overly tense shoulders, knowing that it didn’t do much to ease. The piles of stuff kept adding and adding until eventually, he slipped. Well, crashed rather. Directly into you. He stumbled back on his feet, trying all he could to right himself. The chatter in the back of his mind went quiet. A silence he had been not accustomed to in years.

“Oh! Four, i’m sorry.” You offered a kind, polite smile sending his mind into its frenzy once more.

‘apologise, dumbass. You just ran right into them! What, you’re just gonna stand and stare at them?’

‘Awe look at them! They’re so cute. And they’re smile? Stars above, I feel better.’

‘Look, just apologise and move on, we’ve got too much to do to get hung up on this.’

‘But come onnn! They’re so nice, and they won’t mind if we borrowed them for a bit.’

‘A break would be nice.’

“Four?” You inquired softly, trying to understand the state of him. He looked dazed and confused almost. His eyes weighed down by a lack of sleep, hair ruffled behind his headband

“I’m sorry, i’m just-“ Four tried to pick between the forces, to let himself be cared for or to care for others.

“Tired?” Your voice was soft, trying not to invade into the silence surrounding you too much. You gently grasped one of his hands as he solemnly nodded, taking the path to his room. He followed, eyes focused on here your hands joined, fingers entwined. You layed down first on the bad, allowing him to sprawl out overtop of you. He melted into you, letting himself burrow into you so he could finally relax. There were times you were insecure about your weight, so deeply instilled in the way the world viewed. But it was as if Four never saw you that way. Or perhaps that he did, but held no care. For his mind -shattered as it be- ans heart yearned to be with you. And that was never a choice he’d debated. He pressed a few soft kisses to your collarbone, nearly on the brink of sleep. You let your hands move from his waist, along his back and up to his shoulders. You kneeded out his sore muscles and let one of your hands tangle in his hair. It was then he truly just… let go. He curled into you, relaxing fully into you with a groan. He was asleep within ten minutes, clinging tightly to you. He knew what he wanted his next project to be, a lovely ring for you.

#firreplies #linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #link x you #yandere linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #x reader #yandere link x reader #four x reader #fir’s library