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obsessivevoidkitten · 6 months

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Heroes To Villains

DILF Yandere Superheroes x Gender Neutral Superhero Reader CW: Noncon, imprisonment, minor violence, gratuitous amount of firearms, super powers, super soldiers, spitroasting, general yandere behavior, bratty reader Word Count: 3.8k (I am sorry this took a bit for me to get to, only took a few hours to write though. I hope you guys love it. Feel free to tip if you do~)

The city you were stationed in was under attack by some fairly destructive super villains. They were either traitors born of the same government program that had produced you and the other super soldiers you worked with or they were sent by another country to attack the retired super agents of your country. Though it was also possible they were a rogue foreigner with a vendetta. All the people making up your squad had been in the military and had made significant enemies.

Their goals did not really matter so much at the moment. It was more important that they were defeated before they caused any casualties.

There were two of them. One of them with an ability to lash out with streams of fire and smoke and another that could jump up really fast and high before slamming down and causing a large explosion on impact.

They were no match for you and your comrades. Red and Ace had handled much worse threats than these two with ease. Ace had been a top pilot before undergoing medical experimentation that left him with angel-like wings and the ability to shoot energy blasts from his hands. The man was like a living B-52. And Red was basically a human tank. Very little could so much as scratch his skin and he had tremendous physical strength.

Both of them had soared through the ranks and had distinguished themselves as competent generals in the last great war. Now they were retired and used their abilities as super soldiers to become heroes and protect the capital from the strange threats that had been unleashed during war time. Mostly the occasional villain. Sometimes a mutant animal.

You had just been a simple medic. Nothing too fancy, but you had hesitantly taken the opportunity to go through experiments that would allow you to heal others much more effectively and without the need for invasive surgery. Most of the super soldiers gained a unique ability and also became more resilient to damage and agile.

And you had gotten those perks too, but not to the degree as everyone else. Though you had gotten an extra ability that most people lacked. Hyper accurate aim with long distance weapons. But you also suffered a drawback when compared to your peers. You got exhausted easily, having very little stamina.

Who could forget the time you had saved the city by firing the railroad gun at the giant robot that used mutated biological components in its construction? Firing a 19,000 pound shell and obliterating an entire giant robot with one perfectly executed shot had been amazing.

You longed for that kind of usefulness again. But currently you were a bit bored, as a long range support unit you frequently hung back a bit. Red and Ace normally cleared everything up themselves without having need of your abilities.

Ace had plucked the hopper from the sky and injected him with a serum that would knock him out cold until he could be taken into custody where his abilities would be removed completely, if they could be. Red had similarly taken out the fire user who had discovered that his searing flames did little more than make Red sweat a bit.

They regrouped together before they started walking back to you, each carrying the limp weight of an unconscious enemy on their shoulders. It would be a few minutes before they got to the rendezvous.

You heard the gruff voice of Red on your comm line.

“We got em’ On our way back now.”

“Affirma-”

You were cut off by a sudden shift underground followed by a woman jumping up from the earth below you and punching you hard enough to launch you several feet.

There had been a third and they had split up to take you on individually.

As you fell through the air you took out your side arm and fired every round in rapid succession. Each one aimed for her heart. Each one hit their mark. But when you hit the ground you had smacked your head pretty hard and the world faded to black.

You woke up in a medical bed in the basement of your headquarters. You were quite dizzy and you felt like you were certainly going to vomit.

You held your hands to your head and your palms flashed.

Much better. If you hadn’t been knocked out you would have simply been able to heal whatever injuries you had sustained in a flash. Oh well you were better now.

Ace walked in to check on you right as you had been getting up. He burst into a smile at seeing you awake. His blue eyes full of joy.

“Hey runt! Glad to see that you’re getting up and about!”

“Who’s a runt!?”

He flexed his biceps to drive the point in.

“Red, get in here, The runt is up!”

You heard his loud steps reverberate upstairs as he bounded towards the basement door and came rushing down.

“It’s been five days, we were beginning to really worry about you, squirt.”

He was smiling but you could tell his red eyes held a lot of concern in them. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“Well, no need to worry. I am not as fragile as a regular person. And I am fully healed now.”

“Yeah… but you weren’t hit by a normal person. And you aren’t as durable as most of us…”

That was Ace.

“Yeah, yeah, I will be more careful, okay? I know my limits. I don’t need a lecture. I took the enemy down and I am okay now so we don’t need to linger on it.”

Ace put his hand to his face and his wings quivered in annoyance as they often do when he tries to lecture you and you just won’t have it.

You rolled your eyes and finally Red spoke up.

“This isn’t the first time you have gotten hurt on the field. Even with precautions like staying back you still end up injured!”

“What’s your point? It's a battle, injuries happen. At least I can heal.”

Ugh, an Ace lecture you were used to. You didn’t need both of them nagging at you.

You rolled your eyes as Red continued.

“Have you ever considered… going into another career? You volunteer at the hospital… maybe you could do that full time?”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t in any command position, but I was a trained soldier all the same! I think I can handle myself!”

You stormed away from them and went up the stairs, slamming the door behind you. Assholes. Who were they to tell you what you should consider doing? It was your life and if you wanted to use it fighting genetically enhanced monsters and super-criminals then that was your right to do so.

It would become evident in the future that this incident was where everything started to go wrong. Going forward in battle they always had at least one of them at your side whenever it was physically possible for them to do so.

When you were eventually still injured even with that precaution, even though it was minor, they pressured you again to quit being a hero. They thought maybe you just were too attached to them to leave so they even suggested that you could still be their medic but you would stay on at the base. You could even still operate the railroad rifle that could fire shells from miles away whenever a large foe approached the city.

But you wouldn’t have it. Fuck them. You told them that if you had to form a new squad in a new city then you would do so.

They frantically apologized immediately so they let it go.

It was unfathomable that they would ever allow you to do such a thing. Go off where they couldn’t protect you even a little? Where some inexperienced whelp of a leader would surely get you killed? Not a chance!

But neither could they allow you to remain a front line combatant. Not after the injuries and not with how easily you became fatigued when exerting yourself.

The solution was ugly, but it was what it was. You left them no other option for your own safety.

Though it would make them criminals themselves they had to do it for your own good. They had to keep you here with them where you would be safe and secure. They could turn the base’s AI defenses to keep you here and make sure that you were safe. They could also have it alert them through their comms if you there was any trouble while they were on a mission.

You were laying on your bed with your hands behind your head. You stared at your ceiling and contemplated all that you had been through. The war, seeing comrades on the battlefield ripped apart with no way to save them as they bled out in agony. You had to protect people from that in every way that you could, and if you did die on the battlefield then that was fine by you.

The intrusion of Red and Ace barging into your room out of nowhere pulled you from your thoughts and you regarded them both with a scowl.

“What NOW!? Can’t you guys at least knock? I mean seriousl-”

Ace cut you off with a hand gesture for silence before Red spoke up.

“Listen squirt… we decided something. We can’t allow you to join us on the field anymore…”

“Didn’t you just apologize for saying that after I threatened to leave? Whatever, I am out of here!”

You hopped up to gather your belongings and set out at once, the mere sight of the two heroes making you want to go on a rampage, but Red pushed you back onto the bed, then Ace picked up where Red had left off.

“Well that’s not all, runt. We also decided… you can’t leave here either…”

You started laughing. It had to be some kind of joke. But the tension that filled the room told you otherwise. You looked from Red to Ace and the empty expression from Ace and the guilty one from Red told you that they were deadly serious.

You grabbed your sidearm and launched yourself at Ace, you weaved past Red and twirled yo get behind Ace and held your arm around his neck with your gun aimed at his head. You didn’t speak a word, your intention clear.

There was no way you would be kept here.

You couldn’t go for Red as small arms fire would bounce off of him, but at point blank range Ace was toast. You backed out of the room, pulling Ace along with you. He cooperated fully. Even a pair of overprotective psychos didn’t want their brains blown out.

Out of nowhere a robotic arm emerged from one of the sockets in the walls. It seized your gun and then Ace flipped your positions with him behind you.

They had reprogrammed the defenses of the base to not allow you to have a weapon. These two were not former generals for nothing. They knew how their adversary, you, would react.

You slammed your foot down on Ace’s and smacked your head behind him to hit his nose. Such weak attacks did nothing to dislodge you from his ironclad grasp.

“Stop this childish behavior and just accept things. This is for your own good. If anything this little outburst has proven that you need to be protected because you certainly cannot control your emotions!”

Red was in front of you, still looking at you with that guilty expression.

“I’ll go get your weapons from your room.”

Ace and you watched in the doorway as Red got a sack and rummaged through every single inch of your private space to look for what was now contraband.

“Come on! If you are going to keep me here at least don’t go invading my privacy like this!”

Much to your embarrassment you actually cried a bit as the large man went through all your things.

He started by removing your pistols from your weapon’s display case. Your Beretta M9, your SIG Sauer P320, you… dear god no… not your baby, not your Magnum Research BFR!

You thrashed more as you saw him take that one.

Then he moved on to your bookshelf. He took out your religious text from the shelf.

“Hey, keep your grubby mitts off of that! It’s sacred!”

“Yeah, Red, don’t you think you should focus o-”

He opened it revealing that it had been cut out and housed one of your many sidearms.

“Of course,” Ace said flatly.

When Red finished with all your pistols he moved on to the ones mounted on your wall. Your Mauser M 98, your Browning BLR, and your little Marlin 70PSS.

The rest of the search was much the same. All but one had been found. Red had to get a second bag for them all. The ones in your desk, under your bed, and the one in your mattress.

Well at least they hadn’t found your most precious gun-child…

“Okay I think I got them all. Nowhere else to search. Be truthful, did I miss any?”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes and lied convincingly. You tried to look as defeated as you could.

“No”

Ace moved the two of you out of the way so Red could take your weaponry to the armory. As he started to leave the room he noticed his footsteps sounded odd in one place.

He pressed his large foot down in the spot a few times, narrowing his eyes.

Fuck.

He bent down and realized he could remove the floor board under the rug in that spot.

He found it, the bag unzipped and your M1 Garand joined the rest of your firearms.

“NOOOO!!! That one is my favorite! It PINGS when you use it!”

Now you were truly defeated, they had gotten every single one of them…

“Holy fuck, how many did you need??”

Ace joined in.

“Yeah that’s all a bit… much…”

“If your only offensive power came from guns then you would make sure to have one near you at all times in case of infiltration or emergencies…”

Ace sighed and let you return to your bed in peace. Or what peace could be had in your glorified prison.

Later in the evening they knocked on your door.

“Hey, we made your favorite food for dinner! And made your favorite dessert too…”

That was Red, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. He knew you would hate him now. You ignored them.

“Come on, don't be like this, you have to eat!”

And that was Ace, insisting that not complying with his psychopathic behavior was childish.

You opened the door and took the food tray. Both of them smiled.

“There, see? We can all still get along. We worked very hard on that meal for you!”

You were sure that they had, they were both skilled cooks. You stared at them expressionless and slammed the tray into their faces before slamming the door.

Ace looked furious but Red held him back.

“Come on Ace… they just need to adjust…”

But you refused to adjust. You ate only when they were out of the house. As the days went by you didn’t speak a single solitary word to either of them, you may as well have been a ghost.

Well… it would have been. Had you not been doing your best to make them the two most miserable men on the planet. You destroyed all the toilet paper, clogging every toilet in the base with it, you destroyed the fridge twice, you broke the TV, tore the couch, the robotic arms stopped you, of course, but you could manage to do a bit of damage each time before it stopped you.

Even Red was getting annoyed with your behavior.

They had both tried everything to get you to behave. Punishments ranging from not eating anything but flavorless oatmeal for days to being forced to sleep in a bed with one of them so they could make sure you didn’t cause any destruction while they slept.

Finally they had had enough, things could not continue on like this and it seemed like you may never open your eyes and see that they were just trying to keep you safe. Without them you’d have ran right into the jaws of danger.

They discussed it among themselves and had one more idea. You needed to feel loved in every possible way. They loved you so much after all, that’s what all this had been about, to protect you because they cared for you. But clearly they needed to step things up a notch or ten.

When they came home that day they barged into your room and grabbed you, taking you kicking and screaming into one of the many spare rooms the base had.

They had outfitted it with a huge bed, the walls painted your favorite color, fresh roses filled a heart shaped vase on the nightstand.

“Let go of me! What did you drag me here just to give me a newer bigger room? A prison is still a prison…”

“It’s going to be…” Red started.

“Our love… nest…” Ace finished, blush evident on his face.

“No thanks. Fucking weirdos.”

“Come on, sex is known to alleviate one’s mood!”

“Yeah, just give it a chance”

Ace smashed his lips into yours and kissed you deeply, you looked at him stunned.

They were serious… You wanted to wretch… Fervently you struggled, trying to get out of Red’s grip but he handed you off to Ace who wrapped his wing around you and led you to the bed.

They took your clothing off before moving on to your own. All of you had scars due to combat and training, and you had seen them nude in the showers before, but this was different. For the first time you felt vulnerable and scared under their combined gaze.

You covered your genitals but they each removed and held one arm so they could appreciate the view. “Come on, don’t be like that. Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ace whispered as he spread your legs apart.

“Red, did you bring the lube?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Red opened a bottle and lathered both of their growing cocks so that they were drenched with the stuff and then pressed some to your hole and massaged it in. They had no intention of letting this be a painful experience for you. They wanted to show how much they cared about you.

You tried to clench. To close yourself off from them. But the probing fingers would not be denied. You squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of cold lube being worked into you.

“Try to relax, it will be much better if you embrace us.”

“FUCK YO-”

Red cut you off with a kiss. You tried to bite his tongue but his tongue was no more vulnerable than the rest of his body.

Two sets of hand roamed and pet, and groped your body. Gently caressing you as Red made out with you. When they felt as if they had explored every part of your body they flipped you on to your belly, with Red on his knees in front of you. His crotch level with your face.

Ace was behind you on his knees between your legs, holding them still as he wedged himself closer to your entrance, until the tip of his cock was kissing it.

You couldn’t kick because he had control of your legs. You couldn’t punch because Red had your arms pinned. Now they just had to plug your bratty mouth and you wouldn’t have any means of protest. Verbal or otherwise.

They knew you’d try to bite so Red took your mouth, claiming it with his cock. You tried to move and turn away but once Ace sank his cock into your sensitive depths you gasped in surprise so Red took the chance to put his cock in your soft mouth. He did not go in balls deep, neither of them had yet. They wanted you to enjoy it. To relax. Not worry about being hurt or gagged.

Red humped into your mouth carefully and slowly while Ace did the same behind you.

“Damn, for someone so opposed to it you fit me so well.”

Then Ace added, “Your mouth feels amazing babe. He used his thumb to draw lazy circles into your arms where he held them down. He sighed in pleasure when he felt the pleasured moans Ace was coaxing out of you. Much to your dismay.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Your body relaxed, just a bit, as the men slowly bred a bit of the stress you had been under out of it.

Now that it seemed that you were enjoying yourself, even though reluctantly, Ace decided he could speed up just a bit, rolling his hips as his cock dug further into you.

Red was going a bit faster too now that you had acclimated and stopped trying to resist so hard. He let your arms go, sure that you had finally realized how silly fighting was. The large man stroked your cheek as he continued thrusting into those sweet lips.

Ace was the first to cum, his wings outstretching fully and deep voice gasping as his large nuts filled you with wave after wave of his seed. His large cock twitched inside of you, pushing you over the edge and into your own orgasm.

Feeling all your muffled cries of pleasure right in his prick caused Red to start cumming. He pulled out, not wanting to choke you on his copious amount of semen that he knew all super soldiers produced in spades, instead cumming all over your face.

Ace pulled out of you and was the first to speak.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You didn’t respond, you were still panting from the workout you had just received. You didn’t protest when Ace pulled you into his lap and held you with your head nestled into his chest. Your head laying right on his hawk tattoo. You didn’t protest when red scooted beside him and kissed you tenderly on the forehead. You even let them clean you up and feed you your favorite meal that they diligently cooked for you while you waited politely on the couch. They figured your resistance to them before was just because you had needs that weren’t getting met.

And from that day forward they knew that anytime you got too snarky or rebellious all they had to do was make time to fuck the brattiness out of you.

#yandere x reader #yandere boyfriends #male yanderes x reader #yandere men #yandere #yandere superheroes #gender neutral reader #male yanderes x gender neutral reader #My OCs #My OC Red #My OC Ace #Military Yandere

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unoislazy · 7 months

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Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

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“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

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patrophthia · 8 months

Note

congrats for the 1K!! would love to read a fic where reader has been loosing her vaseline lip therapy boxes and she asks theo where it’s gone, he says he doesnt know abt them but he took some 2 see why reader likes it sm & now hes obsessed aswell 🥹 thx uu

hi omg thank you! i always see you on my notifs and am so glad you finally sent in an ask!!!

dirty little liar | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, shy theo and he’s so cute about it

part of my 1k celebration event !

Theodore Nott (your beloved boyfriend) is a dirty little liar. He wasn’t a good liar at the start of your relationship, and he sure as hell wasn’t one now; sitting pretty on the Slytherin’s common room sofa with his bag a few inches away from him, the flaps open after his attempts at pulling out a quill.

You’re slightly frustrated when you find him, brows furrowed as you scan your surroundings for the small tub you’ve grown so fond off. “Theo, have you seen my lip therapy?”

Theodore cocks his head at your words, feigning cluelessness as to what your ‘lip therapy’ was. “No?” He supplies, sounding unsure of himself.

You don’t really think too much of it though, this was the third time this week you’ve asked him this very question. Each time pretending as if he doesn’t know what it was you’re looking for.

“Are you sure?” You ask again with a slight disappoint glint in your eyes.

He hesitates, wanting to let up yet he’s played this game for too long to let loose of it so easily. “Mhmm,” he hums.

You sigh, taking a seat besides him on the sofa. Your thigh bumps into his bag slightly, knocking out the contents within its pocket. You frown a bit, picking up the items that spills out of it.

Gum. Quill. A few sickles. Eye drops. Another quill. Vaseline lip therapy.

Wait, Vaseline lip therapy?

You hold the small container in your hand, looking up at Theodore suspiciously to only find him looking back at you with a sheepish smile. You have half the mind to throw it at his face and call him a filthy liar while the other half of you want to shut down and take in the utter betrayal from your boyfriend’s actions. Instead, you stay calm and ask him to: “explain yourself.”

Theodore bites the corner of his cheeks, eyeing the tub in your hand carefully. “Uhm— you’ve always had it— it was always laying around, and I knew you used it so kept it for you.”

“You kept it for me?” You ask him, untrusting. Theodore nods. “Then why did you say no when I asked you if you’ve seen it.”

He’s dead. Not figuratively. He just really fucked up, didn’t he? “I forgot?” As if it couldn’t have gotten worse, he gives you the worst lie you’ve ever heard.

“Right.” You’re nodding, and he thinks he might actually get away with it. But things are never that easy, is it? “Tell me the truth or we’re through.”

Surely, you don’t mean— nope, your face is too stern for you to be bluffing. He’s shy when he answers you truthfully: “you’re always using it I just— I wanted to know why you liked it so much so I tried it and just forgot to place it back where I found it.”

“And the other two?”

“Malfoy and Zabini saw me using it and stole it for themselves,” he grunts, clearly annoyed by his friends behaviors. You laugh and he’s the one to frown now. “What?”

“Nothing,” you giggle, “you’re just cute.”

The tip of his ears singes red, cheeks heating at your words. “So you’re not mad at me?”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes playfully as you tossed the small container in his direction. He catches it with ease, eyes shifting between you and the tub. “Just mad enough to remind you that you owe me three of these little replacements.”

When you stand up, his dark eyes are still on yours; lips jutting out slightly as your warmth slips away from the sofa where you sat mere seconds ago. And when you lean down, placing a short kiss on his lips (one he was quick to return) out of pity, you can’t help but comment on how it: “seems like the stolen products were doing its job.”

— from bee: i need to apologize for long it took me to write this, im really sorry bae omg TT

#theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x y/n #🧳: my writing #🍰: 1k with patro!

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 months

Note

hi! i would like to request kaz brekker x fem!reader where kaz is feeling a lot of pain on his bad leg and reader massages it for him. established relationship please. thank you in advance!

The salve

You could tell that Kaz’s leg had been bothering him for a while now. With the weather changing and the rain pouring down for the second week now, the humidity was atrocious for joints. So Kaz limped and grunted through it. Being in a way worse mood than usual. Meaning that everyone who was around him was catching a handful of snarky remarks for anything. Even breathing too loudly.

You gathered a play of food for him downstairs adding extras so you both could share. He hadn’t been down even once today. Kaz said he was just busy with work but you could tell from the way he was tossing and turning the previous night. He simply couldn’t walk downstairs. The pain had gotten that bad but of course he didn’t show it. His cold mask didn’t slip even once.

Pushing the door open with your hip you walked into your shared room. Smiling at him the moment your eyes locked. Kaz’s eyes caught that spark too but his face stayed stone cold. “You didn’t need to bring it up”, he grunted, turning a page over. “But I did”, you chirped in response, moving to yank that same document out of his grip as you lowered the plate in its place, “Push the chair back and eat”.

Kaz frowned slightly. “Also, take your pants off”, you add with a wave of your hand. “You are confusing me, woman. Why would I eat dinner without my pants?”, Kaz huffed, snatching a piece of roasted potatoe. “Kaz Brekker take your pants off”, you said firmly once more. Keeping his gaze. “Multitasking has never been my favorite thing”, he huffed in frustration but still stood with a grunt, holding onto a table for support. Stoping to breathe. “Let me help you”, you reach for the zipper but he bats your hands away. “I’m not some immobile fool”, he hisses in annoyance. “Kaz, you might think that you can fool me but you’re an idiot here”, you catch his hand placing it on the table so he can hold his weight up while you undo his pants with ease.

“It doesn’t even hurt”, he argues but you only lift your eyebrow at him as you look up at him, “Fine, maybe a little but I don’t need you undressing me”. You only hum as you guide him back down into the chair. Those couple minutes alone were enough to make sweat break out on his forehead. You reach into your pocket, the metal jar of salve gleaming in the low light.

“Where did you get that?”, Kaz asks firmly and you know that you didn’t even need to answer. He knows himself. The stamp on the lid says enough. “Don’t tell me that you went there without me knowing”, you can hear the frustration in his tone. The slumps here had been crowding with new arrivals lately. Arrivals that had been enjoying killing people as of late so Kaz had forbidden you to go there.

“It was quick”, you breathe out, warming the mixture between your fingers. “They can also kill you quickly. Asked for that too?”, Kaz grunted but your fingers pressed on his legs, and his whole body went ridged. “Fuck”, he hissed. “I’m sorry”, you pushed your finger into the knots and stiff muscles. Feeling it gives in. “This will help. The healers are from my old village. You’ll be able to walk tomorrow”, muttering you continued to work your hands all over.

“Not worth it if it puts you in danger”, Kaz argued, his head lulled back. “I would do it again”, you shrugged. “That’s the scary part”, he turned to look at you. The tension in his body already melting away. “Any better?”, you question him, moving to bend his leg through the knee a couple of times. “I would say yes but because you were reckless, I’ll say no”, the side of his lips turned upward and you bit your lip, “What I shame, guess I’ll have to massage your legs some more”, “Guess so”, Kaz shrugged, reaching for a piece of meat pie before guiding the fork to your lips.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x oc #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker six of crows #the six of crows x reader #the six of crows imagine #the six of crows #the six of crows x oc

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imfinereallyy · 26 days

Text

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 4

part 1 part 2 pt. 3

this one i am excited for, i hope you guys like it...

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

February 1991, Chicago

Robin has a particular hatred for winter rain. It’s cold, damp and makes everything grey. She doesn't mind the rain in the summer—where it makes everything smell fresh and makes all the greens look bright.

Winter rain, though? Belongs in a circle of hell.

Admittedly, it's more than the way the downpour chills her to the bone. It's always a bad omen, a sign of what's to come. Most people find her paranoid, except Steve. He always nods his head in understanding; Robin can't tell if it's because he just understands her or because the winter rain makes his bones ache.

Robin shakes the water out of her hair as she walks up the steps to her apartment with Steve and Eddie. The bad feeling in her stomach doesn't ease up, creeping further and further up her throat until she worries she might choke on it. She takes her time going up the six flights of stairs, taking deep breaths, convincing herself that everything is fine and it's all in her head.

By the time she makes it to the door, Robin feels lighter.

Pushing through the doorway, Robin lets a small smile rest on her lips as her eyes look around to see who's home.

Her eyes land on Steve, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

It's then she notices Steve is home, but Eddie isn't.

Steve lifts his head, tears in his eyes. "He's gone, Robs. Eddie left."

The rain could eat shit. Fuck.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Robin waits until Steve leaves and a few minutes extra before making her way into the living room.

She knows the bastard is still here; Robin saw it coming from a mile away.

Trudging towards the couch in Steve's boxers and what she is sure is her ex-girlfriend's t-shirt, Robin smacks Eddie upside the head.

Hard.

"Ow! What the fuck, Buckley?" Eddie squirms, rubbing his head with a pout.

"Oh, shut it, Munson. You know that a slap is the least of your worries. You better believe something on you will be broken by the time you leave again." Robin huffs, her face going red.

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will you at least come talk to me before you cause me more bodily harm?" He pats the spot on the couch next to him like it isn't Robin's fucking couch.

Robin begrudgingly decides he's right and plops down next to him with a glare. "Trust me, Munson. We will be doing plenty of talking. And by we, I mean me."

"Don't you want to hear my sid—Ow! Birdie, for the love of god, stop hitting me." Eddie rubs his arm.

"No."

"No you won't hear me out, or no you won't stop hitting me?"

Robin levels him with a look so vicious that she is almost certain if he holds eye contact any longer, he will be set on fire.

Eddie's shoulder's slump, "Right."

Robin huffs through her nose, trying to fight back a smile. She will not crack around this idiot, even if torturing him brings her a special kind of joy. "Munson, unless the reason was 'if you didn't leave, Steve was going to die,' then you don't have a good reason."

A small smile makes its way onto Eddie's face, and Robin lightly slaps his knee. "Why are you smiling? You don't get to smile right now."

Eddie deosn't even flinch, "Nothing, it's just you specified Steve dying, and not the two of you or anyone else. Like Steve dying would be the issue. It's nice to see some things never change."

"You see that's where you're wrong, Munson." Robin gets really close in his face, "We've only gotten worse."

Eddie's smile is a full-blown grin now. Robin can't help but be a little charmed.

If Robin is honest with herself, and Steve encourages her to do so more often, she really misses Eddie. Despite her being angry at him, she's happy to have him here to be angry at. But once she's over that, she will be kicking him the fuck out of their apartment.

Something twisted lands in Robin's stomach as she makes her way back into her spot on the couch. Eddie doesn't get it that he left them. He left not just Steve but Robin, too. They were best friends, and suddenly, he's gone.

And on top of that, Robin had to watch Steve crumble, and it just isn't something she thinks she can ever get over.

For years, Robin watched Steve pick himself up over and over again. Resilient, brave, and sometimes a little stupid. That's her Steve. But after Eddie left, she was worried that this time he wouldn't get back up.

She can't go through that again.

Unfortunately though, Robin fears she might need Eddie's fucking help with something.

These boys will be the death of her.

"No more smiling, Munson. This is serious." Robin clears her throat.

"Right." His grin slips off his face. "You were saying you wanted to do the talking?"

Robin looks to the doorway, nervous. As if Steve is going to walk through any moment, despite not leaving all that long ago. She just knows how dates with Drew go. Sometimes Steve will come home early, frustrated and quiet, closed off in ways she hasn't seen in a long time. Other times he won't come home for days, Drew deciding he needed some alone time with Steve.

Robin isn't sure which she hates more.

She shakes her head, knowing she is being unreasonable—not on the hating Drew part (which is really what it is, down to its core) but on Steve coming back early. No matter what happens between Steve and Drew, Robin knows he is dreading coming back to this apartment with Eddie in it or, even worse, with Eddie gone.

"You're going to help me."

Eddie's eyebrows furrow, and Robin almost expects him to question it, to demand answers. Instead, he surprises her. "Okay, what do you need?"

Robin takes a deep breath, "We need to get Steve out of a bad relationship."

Worry falls over Eddie's face, "Is he okay? What happened? Is she hurting him?"

Ah. Robin forgot about that part. Eddie doesn't exactly know about Steve's sexuality. It isn't like the man isn't out—Steve has been out to their friends for years now—but it feels wrong to tell Eddie without consulting Steve yet.

She is going to have to work around it.

"Steve's...fine." Robin doesn't reall know actually. Lately, it's been like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk about Drew. She fucking hates that man. "He's unhappy, though. This person isn't good for him, and I think me saying it isn't enough."

Eddie rubs a hand down his face, "And how am I supposed to help that? Steve doesn't exactly want me around." His arms gesture towards the room in a dramatically flair.

Oh, this silly, silly man, Robin thinks. Unfortunately, he's exactly what Robin needs—more specifically, what Steve needs.

"True."

"Okay, hurtful."

Robin waves him off, "I'm not going to lie to you, Munson. We are both pissed at you. But I am worried about Steve. And I care more about him than I am angry at you. Despite all the shit you did, he cares about you. Because this is Steve. He cares a whole lot and gives a whole bunch without expecting anything. And he deserves better. And I think—no, I know, if he has two of his oldest friends showing him that, maybe he'll listen."

Robin fails to mention that regardless of how this plan goes, she will have her revenge on Eddie, to, ya know, even the score.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "Okay. Of course, I'll help. Besides, I was already planning on sticking around. I don't want to run away, not this time."

"Good." Robin lets a small smile slip onto her face, "Besides, you're a terrible athlete. Don't know why you insist on trying."

A dry laugh escapes Eddie, "Wow, thanks, Bridie. Missed you too."

Robin pushes him playfully. "If you're gonna stick around, maybe I'll hear you out, Eddie. But not now. Not yet. Don't know if this going to be long term; consider this a temporary truce."

Robin expects him to whine and contest it, but instead, Eddie looks delighted. "You called me Eddie."

Robin groans, "Don't ruin it."

Eddie grabs her hand, their rings clanking against each other, and gives it a squeeze. "Sorry, no take backs."

Robin says nothing, but squeezes back.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

i don't get to write her pov very often, but it is so fun. next update we will finally get a peak into Eddie's whole deal. Tag list is closed, but you can put notifs on the first part, I always put the link on the there.

tag list! (closed):

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls @themoonagainstmers

@lingermirth @steddiecameraroll @my2amgaythoughts @stevah-hawcett @steventhusiast

@adealwithher @antonymeanonyme @stevah-hawcett @samsoble @mugloversonly

@stripey82 @anaibis @mycatsstolemybiscuit @flustratedcas @alfhitchblonde

@s0ft-strawberries @slavicviking @theheadlessphilosopher @friendlyorange @lunaraquaenby

@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate @scooby-dum86 @awkwardgravity1

@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland

#see? it's getting happier #kinda #trust me it's going happy places #we just gotta build #also thanks for the hype it motivates me #also i know some of you at this point live in my walls #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #ficlet #angst #hurt comfort #i wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3

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daisy-milk · 2 months

Text

Non Dimenticar

three times in which you needed minho, though it wasn't in you to ask

➠ lee minho x reader

➠ wc: 1.7k

➠ summary: both you and minho are independent induviduals, and that aspect thrives in your relationship. though it makes it hard for you to reach out to him when you need it. you and him learn that sooner or later you both will have to learn how to ask for help.

➠ warnings: slight angst (maybe its normal level angst idk its pretty sad), mentions of passing out, mentions of injury, mentions of hosptial/emergency room, overworked reader

➠ masterlist

➠ a/n: i am currently a little tipsy and therefore this is not proofread

he gets it. he really does. he understands because he is the same way. all his life, he has had the same mentality, but now that he’s met you, he has learned; and perhaps it was because you were so similar in that sense that he learned what it looked like from an outside perspective.

it was your inability to ask for help and openness to receiving it.

minho, as well, struggled with this. throughout his life he had that mindset. one of, ‘whatever is happening will pass. you must power through. don’t drag others down with you,’ and he knew what it felt like from a personal level. pretty much, you both lived a very much ‘just thug it out’ lifestyle. minho never saw it as too much of a problem though. it didn’t seem to hurt others, in his eyes it kept them safe even, ignorance is bliss, no? but that was until he met you.

minho saw in you, the struggle that was deep within him. the one many urged him to overcome, because he never would see any issue in it.

the first time he began to become aware was when the two of you were working out. you were both doing bicep curls, your attention on the mirror in front of you as you counted your sets. minho and you took turns and he was using a heavier weight than you, so naturally you dropped yours in favor of letting him switch the plates. you must have been distracted however, and in switching, you accidentally dropped the heavy plate onto your big toe. minho wouldn’t have even noticed if his eyes weren’t trained on you at all times. you didn’t even make a sound when it dropped on you, just an airy hiss, and through your reflection in the mirror you tried your best to play it off. the weight was heavy enough to raise concern, there was no way that didn’t affect you. therefore, minho spoke up,

“hey, you good? that looked painful” he grabbed your arm as you stepped away.

you shook your head, “nah. i’m fine. i’ve had worse,” a chuckle leaves your lips in an attempt to put your boyfriend at ease.

minho gave you a look. one of uncertainty. though he didn’t want to pry. he knows that even if it was hurting there is a reason you aren’t asking him for help.

perhaps he should have asked though. you didn’t say anything further but he couldn’t help but notice the quite obvious limp you wore as you walked out of the gym. he noticed, as he peeked at your uncovered foot when you got into bed with him that your toe began to swell and bruise a nasty shade of purple. he noticed the way, even after days, you struggle to put your full weight onto your foot. he urged you to see a doctor, but you brushed it off, saying that it’ll heal on its own, you’ve had worse.

again, he didn’t pry and you never brought it up. though he knows now to keep a close eye on you at the gym.

the second time was probably the most brutal. what started as a simple stomach ache soon became an even worse pain that had you doubling over in pain. be it cramps, your pesky lactose intolerance, or food poisoning, you always had an excuse for when minho began to worry. because naturally he would become worried at the sight of you rendering unmovable due to the pain. though no matter what, each time you would ease his mind with a new excuse and a wave of your hand. the excuses lasted a while. though it was only a matter of time until something worse happened. he had gotten a call from you late into the evening, “hey…” your voice was low, it sounded as if you were far from the mic, “can you… can you uh pick me up. i’m at that pho spot near your place. i’m- i… uh don’t think i can drive home.”

“did you drink?” he had asked. you had told him no, but offered no further explanation. he could tell there was something you didn’t want to tell him; he knew there was a reason you sounded hesitant to ask for his help.

minho had been right because upon arrival he was met with your nearly passed out form, drooping from the driver’s seat of your car. he rushed to you, and you were conscious, luckily. though you did let out a loud groan in pain, your hand clutching your abdomen tightly. without another thought, he rushed you to the emergency room.

fate was on your side that night. appendicitis. the doctors had told you that you were lucky that you hadn’t waited. if it were perhaps a day later, your appendix may have ruptured. the two of you shared a brief look as the doctor debriefed you. it was a knowing look.

during your surgery minho thanked every star in the sky that night. he also made sure to schedule himself a check-up with his physician as well. he had to take care of himself to take care of you, is what he told himself.

the third time wasn’t a physical injury per say. minho caught you in your room. using the spare keys you gave him, he welcomed himself into your apartment as he normally did, though you weren’t expecting him this time. he wanted it to be a surprise. he knew you were studying hard and came in to surprise you with your usual coffee order and some homemade pastries felix made.

instead he found you at your desk, uncomfortably splayed out before your computer. surrounding you were litters of paper and textbooks, most with notes and formulas, but as he looked closer there were papers completely scribbled out, torn, crumpled; it looked like a disaster. he couldn’t count the amount of tabs open of your computer, the chaos that reigned the screen made his head hurt just looking at it. there were at least 2 empty coffee cups on the floor and another on the table, the ice melting into the now lukewarm americano. his hand cropped the one he brought you a little tighter.

“sweetheart?” he questioned carefully, kneeling down to reach face level with you.

though you were curled up, he caught a clear glimpse of your face. you looked nearly lifeless and his heart shattered. minho knew it was just finals. he knew that you were probably fine, but what made him break was the fact you were going through it all alone. it had been days since you contacted him, and it wasn’t an issue for him, the two of you were good at maintaining your own personal time, and as per usual he never pried. but the thought of you, pulling through like this for days left his stomach falling into the deepest pits within himself.

“my poor baby…” his finger traced your cheek, now squished against the table. your skin was dull, eye bags too present, day old makeup faded and smudged all over your eyes. minho kicked himself for not coming sooner.

minho’s arms curl under you and he pulls your body into his arms. you’re so knocked out that you barely notice the movement. as if it were second nature, you curl into his hold as he hoists you up. his face softens a little as you do so, relieved that even in this state you know to trust him completely. his arms bring you to your bed where he carefully tucks you in, giving a gentle pat on your head as he moves to clean up your desk.

scattered papers and endless notes littered the surface of your desk. it wasn’t just your desk though. your room itself was left in a messy array, the days of stress piled up and you couldn’t bring yourself to clean, as litter and clothes became too much to handle. without a second thought, minho cleaned, folding clothes, tossing garbage until your room was spotless. he finished at your desk, beginning to pick up your papers as you woke.

silently, you approached him, your hand resting on his from behind as he gathered some sheets of paper,

“minho…” you said groggily, “don’t worry about it… i-i’m not finished with those. gotta finish them then i’ll clean it up”

you attempted to grab the notes but he stopped you. his hand took the papers from your own. without a word he continued to gather the papers and pile them neatly to the side. you didn’t have any energy left to stop him, to argue. you just let him do this thing. after he powered off your computer, he finally turned to you. his hands now rested on your cheeks, gently brushing the soft skin on your face. his head tilted at you as if you were one of his cats, his thumbs brushing the crusty makeup around your eyes.

“did you sleep well?” finally he spoke

”i have a lot to study…”

”did you eat today?” he continued

“there’s only one more day before my project is due…” he remained quiet and continued to caress your face, “… i won’t have time to study after my classes and…” you began to lean into his touch, softening up from both your sleepiness and his affection, “…and…” you could melt into the way he looked at you right now, “…and i have to finish… i’ll rest when i…”

”you must be so tired, hm?” there was no other infliction in his voice aside from affection

“…yeah,” you admit, “…i’m really tired.”

tears began to well in your eyes as you dipped your head down. he didn’t let you though, using a gentle finger to tilt your head back up. new tears traced down the same path as the ones that were now dried on your cheeks.

“let’s go take a shower?” he asks and you nod. his hand leads you to your bathroom as he begins to use your makeup remover to gently wipe the makeup from your face.

his hands are too gentle, you think, as he cleans your skin.

”after this, we can study in bed, yeah? together.” he gazes down at you as he tosses one wipe for another, “next time… please call me. i know you want to do this alone, i get it, i thought the same way too. but now that i have you, i could never want to be alone again. trust me when i say, i will never be tired of being with you, helping you, no matter what it is. just please, call me when you need me,” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “i promise i’ll call you when i need you too.”

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#skz #stray kids #lee know #lee know angst #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho angst #minho stray kids #lee know stray kids #lee minho #lee minho stray kids #minho

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its-all-stardust · 4 months

Text

Sugar || 5

Masterlist || Part Four || Part Six

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Notes: I'll admit, this chapter isn't my favorite but it works lol. it's mainly here to establish certain things to make it easier for me in the future, so sorry if it's not as good as the others!

You call Steven immediately, but he doesn’t answer. Hanging up without leaving a message, you text him.

Is everything okay? You quickly type. You don’t want to immediately ask why he left. Maybe he was uncomfortable staying the night but didn’t want to say anything.

But then, why did he ask to kiss you again before you left him for the night?

As frustrating as it is for Steven to pull such a vanishing act, it hurts worse. You’re so attached to him already, and the thought that you might have done something to upset him or that he might not want to be around you is crushing.

There’s no immediate response to your text, and you try not to let this minor hiccup affect you. Surely something must have happened for Steven—sweet Steven, who apologizes for not responding to a message within a few minutes—not to have gotten back to you yet.

You’re left standing in the middle of your apartment, lost.

With a shake of your head, you try to put the worst from your mind. For all you know, he could have gotten called into work early and forgot to let you know on his rush out the door. You open your banking app and pay Steven for the night, making sure to deduct whatever you were planning to pay for the pleasure of waking up to him in your home. You also make a mental note to give Steven a firm talking to when you next see each other.

You didn’t hear from Steven for the rest of the weekend.

You’re reminded of one of your babies from a few years ago—the one who ghosted you after one date—and like a parasite, the idea that Steven might have done the same thing latches onto you and refuses to let go.

Monday morning, you’re determined not to let a mere sugar baby distract you—even though you don’t think of Steven as a “mere” anything—and steel yourself for what could be the inevitable end to a short-lived relationship. Steven taking two weeks to talk to you before agreeing to be your baby was one thing. It was another to agree to follow your rules, only to disregard them entirely. If Steven can’t commit to you the way you want him to, or if he decides that this isn’t for him, then you aren’t going to keep him.

It could even be a good thing, you try to convince yourself.

Maybe this could all be a lesson you need to learn about picking babies off the street.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You’re catastrophizing again. You’re making this personal, a reflection of yourself and your abilities. At the end of the day, Steven is an employee you hired because you thought he could do the job. After seeing some trouble from him, you’re merely reconsidering his position with you.

You ignore how much your stomach roils at the thought of letting him go.

At lunch, your phone vibrates in your purse—where you had tossed it earlier when you couldn’t stop staring at it from its usual place on your desk.

The sound makes you pause, questioning if someone is really calling you.

It might not be Steven, you tell yourself as you slowly, calmly reach into your bag and pull out your phone.

But it is him, and the weight in your stomach eases a little.

You stare at the phone, at Steven’s name on the screen, until it goes dark and stops vibrating. Then, a moment later, a notification pops up, announcing a voicemail.

Still, you wait. It’s only fair, after all.

Immediately, your phone starts buzzing again, Steven’s name displaying again. This time, you answer.

“Steven,” you say, your voice low. Although you’re glad he called and persisted with the voicemail and a second call, you’re still upset with him. He better have a good reason for disappearing.

“I am so sorry,” Steven says after a moment, perhaps registering your tone and knowing how upset you are. “I think…I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Why do you say that?” Despite your confusion, you keep your tone even, neither believing nor disbelieving him until you have more information.

Steven hesitates. “You’ll think I’m mad,” he mumbles, seemingly more to himself than to you.

That’s what hits you: your baby is going through something he’s afraid you’ll reject him for, that you won’t be there for him. And right now, regardless of how you feel, he needs you.

“Steven,” you say, softening your voice and letting a hint of worry peak through. “What’s wrong? Explain it to me.”

“I don’t remember this weekend,” Steven quietly admits, deepening your worry. “I mean, I remember staying at yours, but then suddenly I’m home, standing in the bathroom, and it’s Monday. And I know you’re mad at me, I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what’s going on.” Steven finishes, sounding on the verge of tears if a few haven’t slipped out already.

“Baby, hush,” you soothe. “I’m not mad at you.” Not anymore, though you are…concerned.

“You’re not?” Steven asks, hopeful.

“No, I’m not. But what happened? Are you not feeling well? Did you hit your head?”

You want to ask if he took anything, but hold off. It doesn’t feel like the right time, and it could potentially make him defensive and resistant to help if you do.

“Nothing like that. Mainly tired, like I haven’t slept in days, but nothing else.”

Strange, to say the least.

“Have you gone to the doctor?”

“N-no, I haven’t. I wasn’t sure…Since nothing’s wrong—”

“Steven, you blacked out for an entire day. That’s not normal,” you insist. Steven goes quiet. “Go. For me. I need to know you’re okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees softly.

“You’ll go today,” you order.

“Yes. Today.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip. “You’ll come to my place later. Meet me there when I get off work.”

You don’t know if inviting him back to your place is a good idea. There could genuinely be something wrong with Steven, something happening to him. But there’s also a chance he’s keeping something, some bad habit or another, from you.

You briefly rethink your decision to forgo a background check on him, but even still, you don’t make plans to follow through with it.

Despite the warning signs, you still want to see him, need to see him. You need to know he’s okay and be there for him. It takes everything in you not to go and be with him now, your anger forgotten and your worry about what he may have gotten himself into ignored.

He’s yours, and you want to take care of him. It’s almost as if, in the short time you’ve known him, he’s done something to you.

“I’ll be there,” Steven says, sounding more sure than anything else he’s said so far. “I…I need to see you.”

You try to ignore the warmth that floods through you.

Steven looks lost as he stands outside your door. He hesitates when he sees you, unsure whether to go to you or wait for you to reach him and unlock the door.

He looks tired, like he indeed hasn’t slept since he was here on Saturday, and his clothes are disheveled, more so than usual. You’ve yet to hear what happened to him over the weekend, what caused his blackout, but you already have a half-formed plan to keep him here tonight and put him to bed as soon as possible.

When you get close, you say his name softly and hold out your arms.

Steven looks relieved as he steps into you, his arms tucking under yours as he buries his face in your neck. He melts into you, and the two of you stand outside your door, each drawing some comfort from the other.

One of your hands goes to his head, threading your fingers through his curl and holding him tight. You kiss the side of his head and wait, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs.

He clings to you so desperately it makes you wonder if he has anyone else.

Why is it that you, his sugar mommy, are the first person he came to? Regardless of your feelings toward him, surely he has family or friends he could turn to in a moment like this.

You don’t recall him mentioning anyone, except his mother, off-handedly. From how he made it sound, you don’t think she’s even in London.

Maybe you’re all he has.

The thought makes you cling to him as much as he is to you. With Steven in your arms, it’s easy to decide that no matter what’s wrong, you’ll help him. Maybe it’s something where it wouldn’t be right for him to keep being your sugar baby, but you won’t abandon him.

When Steven shows no sign of letting you go, you whisper, “Let’s go inside.”

He reluctantly pulls away and nods, though his hand quickly finds yours.

Once you’re through the door, you kick off your shoes and lead Steven to the couch. You’re a little surprised he doesn’t immediately curl up to your side, but he seems to realize the two of you still need to talk. And whatever he has to say must be serious.

“Did you go to the doctor like I said?” you ask when Steven doesn’t speak.

Instead, he deflates, falling back against the couch, tossing his head back, and staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

“She’s as stumped as I am, I think. Couldn’t find anything without running tests and…” he trails off, sounding defeated.

“And?” you prompt, squeezing his hand. He still hasn’t let go.

“She said it could just be sleepwalking or something like that. But for a whole day?” Steven lifts his head up, staring at you in confusion. “How can I have been asleep for a whole day? Not to mention getting from your flat to mine. Ugh, and then Donna.” Steven falls back and rubs his free hand down his face.

You had forgotten he was scheduled to work today. “You went in?”

“I was supposed to. Supposed to be there at nine, but came to staring at myself in the bathroom mirror with my phone ringing in the other room.”

“I take it Donna didn’t handle your absence well.”

“Oh, perfectly well, actually, if you don’t count the, you know, yelling and threatening to fire me. Had to tell her it was an emergency and promise that it won’t happen again to get her to stop. I don’t think she even believed me.”

You can practically see the weight of it all resting on Steven’s shoulders. Waking up after a blackout, knowing something is wrong, and then having your manager chewing you out immediately after? It would be horrible.

“Oh, Steven,” you soothe, pulling him to you so you can hug him again. “What about those tests the doctor mentioned? Are you going to take them? I could pull some strings and get you in to see a specialist sooner.”

“You don’t have to,” Steven insists as he wraps his arms around your waist. “There’s a chance it’s nothing… Just wait and see and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from arguing. You’ve never had to worry about a baby’s health before, and you’re not sure if insisting that he seek treatment goes beyond the bounds you set for the relationship or if Steven would even appreciate you inserting yourself into that part of his life. You don’t want to tell him what to do regarding certain aspects of his personal life, but you still worry.

“Did you tell your family about what happened?” you ask instead. If you can’t tell him what to do about his health, maybe they can.

“It’s just my mum,” Steven says quietly, as if unsure what he wants to tell you. “I left her a message. She’s always traveling, so it’s hard to catch her. She’ll listen to it when she can, though. She always does.”

Something about his tone is slightly off, making you wonder who he’s trying to convince.

“Can we just…go back to normal?” Steven asks, sounding exhausted. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Normal, huh?” you concede, running your fingers through his hair. You’ll play everything by ear for now, and Steven seems well enough that you’re willing to drop the topic for tonight.

“Please?” he mumbles into your neck.

“Well, it just so happens that I got something in the mail for you today.”

Steven lifts his head, brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You start pulling away, preparing to stand. “I’m going to need you to sound more enthusiastic than that, baby,” you say, kissing Steven’s cheek.

“Right, sorry,” he says, his face flushing like he’s already forgotten your roles. “I love it already. Thank you.”

You can’t help but laugh as you walk over to the front door where you left your bag. Grabbing the card you had safely tucked away earlier when it arrived at the office, you walk back to the living room and stand directly in front of Steven.

You flash the card at him, showing off his name and making Steven’s eyes widen in surprise.

“There’s no limit; you can use it to buy anything and everything. It’s already activated, and I have notifications set up on my phone, so I’ll know when you use it.” Your eyes narrow as you watch Steven visibly swallow, nervous. “And when you don’t.”

“I-I…” Steven stammers but doesn’t quite finish whatever he’s trying to get out.

You watch him closely, looking for any sign that he isn’t interested in this kind of play, the slightest hint that he’s uncomfortable.

Something dark shifts across his features then, twisting his expression toward a scowl. But then it’s gone in an instant, Steven’s expression returning to what it was, his soft brown eyes so trusting. You have no idea what to make of it.

Though it leaves you confused, you decide to continue but are mindful of any other signs that you’ll need to stop what you’re doing. What you have in mind isn’t intense, but some of your babies found it degrading and didn’t like doing it.

“Tell me why I should give you this card,” you say.

Steven shakes his head automatically. “I don’t deserve it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No? But aren’t you doing this for the money? And all the other things I can give you?”

He looks away briefly before meeting your eyes again. Even though he’s hesitating, nothing about him says he doesn’t want to be doing this.

“Yes? But you already—”

“Steven.” His mouth snaps shut at your tone. “Repeat after me: I deserve an unlimited credit card.”

He flushes again and mumbles, “I deserve an unlimited credit card.”

“Louder.”

Steven repeats himself, only slightly louder than the first time.

“Again,” you order, still not satisfied.

When Steven repeats the words this time, he does so at a normal speaking volume—not too loud, but perfect for you.

“Good boy,” you praise, reaching out to hold his face with your free hand. You can tell this was hard for Steven, and you hope, one day, asking for the things he wants will be easier for him.

Steven closes his eyes with a contented sigh and nuzzles your palm. You can’t help but smile adoringly at him.

“Do you know why you deserve it?” you ask, keeping your voice low, soft.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head slightly, careful not to knock your hand away. “Because you’re my baby, and you’re special. Say it.”

Steven lets out a shaky breath against your palm. “Because I’m yours, and I’m special.” He doesn’t mumble or stumble over the words. His voice is clear and even, making you let out a pleased hum. You’re a little proud of him.

“Since you want it so much, beg for the card,” you say, watching him carefully.

Steven seems a little taken aback, and you drop your hand from his face.

“You can always say no,” you remind him. “This doesn’t have to be something we do. No hard feelings.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you take a step back and go to hand him the card. He’s done so well already, and you won’t push him into something he doesn’t want to do. Just because he’s your sugar baby doesn’t mean he’s a toy to toss around as you please.

But then Steven’s hands are on your hips, holding you in place.

“Please,” he whispers, staring up at you beseechingly from his place on the couch. Your heart starts to pound, elated.

“Please, what? What do you want?” You need him to say the words; you need to know that he wants to do this, too.

“Please give me the card,” he says, his voice still so quiet.

“You don’t sound like you want it bad enough.”

Steven shifts on the couch, moving close to the edge. His hands on your hips tighten ever so slightly. He licks his lips and says, “Please, can I have it? I promise I’ll use it. I’ll-I’ll buy so much stuff. Please?” He sounds happy to play along but isn’t sure quite what to say. You’re pleased, though, that he’s trying.

“Please what?” you prompt, hoping he’ll get the message, that he’ll like that part of the relationship too.

Steven stares at you for a moment. Then, “Please, mummy,” said in a breathless whisper.

Smiling brightly at him, you lean down and kiss him. Steven eagerly returns it, gripping your hips tighter and trying to pull you closer even though his head is already tilted back at a slightly awkward angle.

“You did so well, baby,” you say when you pull away. During the kiss, your hand somehow found its way into Steven’s hair, gripping it just enough to move his head how you wanted. You slide your hand back down to his cheek, brushing your thumb against the flush you find there. His pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is slightly open as he lets out shallow pants.

Standing up straight, you hold the credit card out for Steven. “Buy whatever you want, and you’re not getting off this couch until you do.”

“Right now?” Steven asks, sounding a little dazed. He reluctantly releases your hips to take the card, allowing you to sit beside him.

“Yes, right now. Pull out your phone.” You settle in against his side, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, around his shoulders when he settles back, so you can hover over him. “Do you want one of those giant TVs? A gaming system or a computer? What about getting the fixings for a saltwater tank and getting Gus an exotic friend?”

“I… don’t know,” Steven says, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He still seems overwhelmed by the whole idea of having such an outrageous amount of money to spend. You affectionately brush one of his curls away from his face.

“Don’t worry, we have all night to figure it out.”

Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy @kezibear @local-mr-frog @peachyrue-777 @kpopslur @tejasvkris @thewinterv

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#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #x reader #sugar series

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

Text

Shit Habit

A Married!Javi Drabble

Rating: PG13 (just suggestive stuff, nothing explicitly smutty. Warning: mention of Stechner)

Series Masterlist

“What happened to the nicotine gum?” She asked, looking up from her book, catching him with an unlit cigarette between his lips, lighter clutched in his hand.

“Had a conversation with Stechner,” was all he needed to say. She hummed in understanding. Stechner had become a staple of his angry rants to her about work and he’d become a center of her jokes where she’d curse “fucking Stechner” whenever anything went wrong in their day.

“Fucking Stechner,” she cursed as he predicted, making him smile halfheartedly before parroting “Fucking Stechner” back at her. He was bringing too much of his work back home. But she still found him acceptable enough to keep around, beckoning him with her index finger. He followed, walking away from the open window to where she sat on the sofa. He tried to sit, but she stretched her legs out on the sofa before pulling him away from the seat by his hands.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she simply smiled before she began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I have to say, you look really good in a white shirt and slacks. Like a conventional office worker.”

“Huh. Fucking hate it. And the stupid SUV. I need my jeep back. Not this stupid little—” he sighed and pushed his hair out of his forehead. “Sorry, I’m just… It’s this job— it’s different. I can’t be on the field like I used to be anymore. I have to send other guys, trust that they won’t fuck up. Duffy and Lopez ended up on the news and I had to take responsibility for their shit.”

“Aww honey,” she cooed, her voice so soft it melted away some of the tension in his muscles. “Maybe this is why Noonan and Messina were always pissed at you and Steve. Because they had to face the fire after you broke the rules.”

“You’re saying it’s karma?” He asked, finally lighting the cigarette. When the first puff filled his lungs, his hand finally stopped its restless fidgeting. He was never going to be able to quit at this rate.

He kept his eyes away from her, easy to do as he stood while she was sitting. He was afraid that if he looked, he’d see disappointment. She never suggested that he quit or even demanded it of him. She had every right to demand it, especially now. She never asked for shit. It should make him feel at ease, but the more he messed up and she went without fighting him on it, the worse he felt. He knew how to defend himself against anger— he would make excuses, tell her he couldn’t quit when his job was so stressful again. But she said nothing, just offered kindness and slipped a strip of nicotine gums into his suit pocket when he dropped her off at work in the morning. What was he meant to do with supportiveness?

The second puff tasted bitter in his heart and he quickly put it out on the glass top of their coffee table as he’d gotten rid of his ashtray in a bout of enthusiasm over quitting.

“Good boy.”

He snorted. Good? He went two weeks without smoking and now that they were in Colombia, he was right back to the terrible habit.“That was my fifth cigarette today.”

“Used to be seven a day on average. You only took two puffs of this last one…and I know you’ve been very stressed lately. Good boy,” she said, pulling him down to her by his hand. Guided by her hand, he knelt down by the sofa.

“It’s a shit habit.”

“It is,” she agreed, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You’re an impatient man, Javier. You want everything to happen immediately. Cut yourself some slack, acknowledge that you’re doing better now than you were doing last month. If you feel shit about where you’re at in your journey to quit your smoking habit, you’ll just feel worse and quitting won’t feel worth it anymore.”

He nodded, knowing she was right. But it didn’t stop him from feeling like shit. He placed a hand on her knee, his thumb caressing a scar she’d gotten from a childhood fall in the playground. He traced the shape of it, and visualized the shape without even having to take another look at it. A new body every night used to be fun but now, he needed the familiar terrain of her body. He needed to know that when he made his way up her thigh, he would go past that mole, that when he buried his face in her neck he would smell the scent of her coconut shampoo.

“Alright… since you’re already on your knees…” she trailed, smiling suggestively as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Ask you to marry me?” He squinted, feigning innocence. It was fun to pretend when he knew exactly what she was asking for.

“Well, don’t be too confident with that. Just because I said yes once doesn’t mean I’ll say yes again,” she teased, the back of her hand grazing his cheek.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. My back hurts and I threw up right after I woke up and it’s all your fault. So, I’m not so enthusiastic about you anymore.”

“I’m sorry…” he said, pulling her shorts down her legs. He started with her belly, placing a kiss on it as it’d become customary of late. There was no visible difference in her yet, nothing apparent, but it felt good to acknowledge it with small affections. He had to quit his habit soon. He shouldn’t be smoking around her. While she chose to build a life with his sorry ass, shit habits and all, this baby didn’t and it would be the wrong example to set for it.

“Don’t say sorry. Show me how sorry you are,” she said, guiding him by his hair between her legs. Laughter bubbled over from his chest and he pushed her legs apart, settling himself comfortably between them.

“Si, Jefa.”

_______

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angelbaby-fics · 6 months

Note

i was just wondering if you would do one with (little reader with cg!stucky) being sick with covid ? because i have it right now…fever, cough, horrible body chills, body aches, struggle to breathe….it would mean a lot 🤍

Sick Day

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: My darling, I'm so so sorry this took so long!! Hopefully you've gotten all better by now but for anybody who needs it I hope this can provide some comfort!

You woke up coughing, every muscle in your body contracting as you tried to catch your breath but to no avail. Steve and Bucky came rushing in as soon as they heard a change in your breathing pattern, their enhanced hearing tuned specifically to you. They were at your bedside and soothing you before you’d even opened your eyes. Bucky sat you up and rubbed your back while Steve fluffed the pillows up behind you.

“Easy baby, easy,” Steve whispered.

“We’ve got you doll, just breathe.” “I can’t!” You choked out.

Bucky held your arms up above your head, breathing deeply and encouraging you to follow his lead. Steve fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Bruce. Living in a big compound with all your coworkers definitely had its perks when it came to times like this. Your on-call doctor and beloved family friend was already in your room by the time your cough had quelled. Each breath you took was shallow, the hot air scraping through your lungs like sandpaper.

Bruce held a device to your head, some sort of Stark invention that scanned your body inside and out with a nearly magical ease. Your temperature was skyrocketing in your daddies’ very hands, and it broke their hearts. When your diagnosis came up on Bruce’s screen, he tried his hardest not to change his expression, but Bucky immediately noticed his facial features make the tiniest shift. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, hoping his desperation wouldn’t scare you and make your breathing worse again. Bruce shifted the screen over to show Steve and Bucky, who were thankful you were too small to read right now. Even though it had been obvious to them what you were stricken with, the symptoms all too telling, they had naively hoped it would be something easier, something mild, a 24 hour bug you could power through with the aid of the best medicines money could buy. But the five letter word across the screen confirmed their fears.

You weren’t like Steve and Bucky. You weren’t genetically enhanced like them, you weren’t at the pinnacle of health like them, and you weren’t invincible like you believed they were. They felt that right now more than ever, with you shuddering in their arms, glancing between either of them with baleful eyes, suffering in the place you should feel safest. Bruce tried his best to calm their fears, and thus, yours.

“Hey don’t worry you guys. According to my chart here, we’re all up to date on vaccinations.” Then he turned to you, grabbing your warm hand in his. “Besides, you’re a tough kid. You’re gonna fight this off like a champ!”

You smiled for the first time that morning.

Steve looked down at you, mirroring your gentle smile. Bucky, however, kept his eyebrows furrowed. He’d spent his entire childhood helping Steve whenever he got sick, but he felt so helpless now.

“I’m gonna head back to the lab real quick and get the medicine, shouldn’t be more than two minutes.” Bruce said, getting up and leaving.

You started to suck on your thumb before Steve took it out of your mouth and replaced it with a pacifier. He smiled at you, his blue eyes crinkling, and looked over to see Bucky scowling.

“You couldn’t have stopped it, Buck. Babies get sick, that's how it goes sometimes.”

“I know,” Bucky replied, “that doesn’t mean I have to like it though.”

A minute later, Bruce knocked on the open door as he reentered the room. He shook a bottle of pink colored liquid in his hand.

“A teaspoon of this at breakfast and another before bed oughta do it. You should start seeing a reduction in symptoms within the next 24 hours.” Your face scrunched up at the thought of yucky medicine twice a day.

“I know, right?” Bruce smiled at you. “They say it’s ‘strawberry flavored’ but I think whoever said that has never eaten human food before.” That cheered you right up. You always loved the way Bruce laughed and joked with you as if he were one of your peers instead of your daddies.

“Thanks, Bruce.” Steve said, and Bucky finally broke his scowl to give the doctor a tight smile. Bruce didn’t mind, he knew how protective your Baba could get, and that it wasn’t a reflection of the quality of his medical services.

“Always, Cap.” Bruce replied to the both of them, and he began to head towards the door again. “You know the drill, call me if you need anything.” Then he turned to you. “Get well soon, superstar!”

Now that it was just the three of you again, the excitement of a friend’s visit wore off, and you suddenly became aware of the deep ache in your bones. You slumped back against Bucky’s torso, and he snaked a protective arm around you.

“Don’t wanna be sick,” you mumbled, your energy draining by the second.

“I know, babydoll.” Steve replied. “The sooner you take your medicine, the sooner you’ll start to feel better.” “Don’t wanna take medicine either!” You said slightly louder, anxiety twisting your voice into a whine.

“Shh… I know, baby.”

“No you don’t! Daddies never get sick!” You cried out with a pout.

“That wasn’t always the case.” Bucky said, a mischievous grin breaking through his gruff mood. “Your daddy used to get sick all the time! And guess who used to take care of him.”

Bucky pointed a thumb towards himself.

“Really? Baba was takin’ care of Daddy?”

“It’s true!” Steve said. “Before we met Bruce, Buck was the best nurse I ever had!”

“And just like you, he’d have to take yucky medicine, even when he didn’t want to. Sometimes it took a lot of convincing.”

“How?” You asked, the discomfort in your body taking a backseat to your delight at being regaled with stories from your Daddies’ past.

“Well…” Bucky glanced over at Steve, waiting for an affirmative nod before he went on, “I would keep peppermints in my bookbag, so Stevie could always have one to get the taste of the medicine out of his mouth.” Just as expected, your eyes went wide.

“So if I takes my medicine I gets a candy?” You asked excitedly, making both the men smile and laugh.

“How about this,” Steve offered up, “Every time you take your medicine, you can have a piece of candy, as long as you’re honest and tell Daddies if it makes your tummy upset, okay? And when you’re all better and have no fever, we’ll take you for a special day out with just the two of us as a prize for being so brave!”

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #agere fic #bucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky #daddy!bucky #daddy!steve #steve x little!reader #cg!steve #cg!bucky #cg x little!reader #chloe's fic

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luimagines · 6 months

Note

OK OK OK BUT LIKE WE GOT *HIM* REALIZING HE LIKE THEM. BUT CAN BE HAVE READER REALIZING THEY LOVE HIM?

Yeeeesss!!!!! I can't wait!! (I've been wanting to write this since I started this blog XD)

Masterlist

Part one will have Time, Twilight and Warrior.

Content under the cut!

Time

It was a quiet acknowledgement.

It was unintentional to boot. You weren't looking for anything with anyone. It was just... a bunch of little things that caught your attention.

When he'd ruffle Wind's and Twilight's hair for fun- how concentrated he'd get in the middle of battle- when he'd help braid Wild's hair to calm him down after a bad night. The quiet way he'd support Warrior from the side. Not to mention just how he leads the group causes you admire him in many ways.

And for a time that was all it was. Admiration. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then you got hurt one day. Your palm was bleeding. Nothing deadly or worrisome but it was your dominant hand. The bandages, swelling and bleeding made it difficult to do much of anything. Not to mention that you kept picking at said bandages, making them fall loose.

Time noticed and puled you aside, rewrapping your hand with grim look on his face. This felt worse, somehow. Like you've disappointed him. He looks pissed, even though he's yet to say a single thing to you.

"I'm sorry." You blurt, hoping that it'll ease whatever tension is on his face.

It doesn't work. If anything he looks angrier. "It's not your fault... I just wish I would have gotten to you sooner. this could have been avoided."

Hold up-

Your heart starts beating faster and your face warms. "Im-impossible, Time. You were so far away."

"Mmm." Time grunts, tightening the bandages once more. "Do me a favor, yeah? Get better. Stop picking at it."

He flicks your forehead playfully, smiling at last. The look... takes your breath away. It's far from perfect. But it's soft and genuine and... you've never seen him look at anyone else like that. You swallow the spit in your mouth, hoping that you're not blushing any more than you already are. "...ok..."

"Good." Time sighs and kisses your forehead. "I worry enough about you as it is."

Did your heart just stop? Hello? Anyone home?

"Thank you." You say and smile back, trying to outwardly keep calm. But on the inside you feel like screaming. Is that good or bad? You don't know yet.

Time smiles again and put his hand on your shoulder. He puts the back of his hand to your cheek and winks. "Always."

You stay there stunned and bite your lip. "...cool..."

He snorts and walks away. "Come on. Or they'll leave us behind."

"Right. I lo-" You panic. What were you about to say? Would you have meant it? I love you? Seriously? Just like that? When did this happen?

Time doesn't seem to notice and keeps walking.

Meanwhile your world just turned on its side. Then again- you've known for a while now, haven't you? It just now where it's grown too obvious to ignore anymore.

You take a deep breath and follow the man back to the group.

Maybe you'll tell him. But another day.

Twilight

Twilight was annoying. You hate to say it. But you would really like to get a grip when it came to him.

It was just some.... stupid puppy crush. There was nothing to it. It was nothing serious- but my god, did it get in the way of literally everything else.

He could say something nice or he would try and be helpful and you would be stuttering and fumbling over yourself. It was stupid. Dumb. Idiotic. You wanted to scream.

At best, you could try to avoid him, but he was so gentle. So sweet. You couldn't even be mad.

You sighed and shook your head, hitting your cheeks a few times to try and get a grip.

"You ok, Darlin'?" Twilight comes up from behind you.

You jump and whip your head around to look at him. You feel like you've been caught doing something suspicious- yet all you were doing was standing there hitting your face. "...Um... Ye-yeah. I'm fine. I'm cool! Don't worry about it."

Twilight raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And you were hitting yourself because...?"

"...I'm tired." You lie. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep any second now."

Twilight frowns and stands a little straighter. "Everythin' alright? Had a bad night or somethin'?"

You cough and nod. "Yeah, something like that. I haven't been able to sleep well lately. I don't know why."

Yes you do. But it's fine. Totally fine.

Twilight puts the back of his hand to your forehead before either of you realize it. His fingers tips move down over your cheeks and behind your jaw. He frowns and leans in. Your breath stills completely, you think your heart stopped beating.

"Are you feeling alright?" He whispers. "I hope you're not getting sick."

You shake your head, gently taking his hand and moving it away from your face. Your attention instantly goes to the way his hand feels in your. Which is totally normal, right? "I don't think so... It just my brain not shutting up these days. I'll be ok."

Twilight leans back and you feel like you can breathe again. "Are you sure? I can help out if you need a break."

You snort. "Yeah? How?"

"I can carry you for a little bit. It's not like it costs anything."

You flush and shake your head, already feeling annoyed with yourself for not holding it together again. Naturally, you want to blame him. "No, really. I'm ok. Come on. We're being left behind."

Twilight nods and moves to walk to the group, still not looking satisfied with your answers. But then Warrior calls him over for something and with one last look to you, he leaves you behind.

It's the perfect excuse to finally break down and scream quietly. You're worse off than you thought. And he's still so sweet. And you can still feel his hand in yours and against your face and the way he looked at you and-

You whine in the back of your throat. "I think I love him."

Warrior

There was something about him that you couldn't look away from. You couldn't say for certain what it was but you liked it.

You like him, to put it simply. He was charming, funny, confident- he didn't hesitate to act and he was always there to put a smile on someone's face regardless if it was at his expense or not.

Speaking of, he kept to your side as it was pouring cats and dogs, sacrificing his scarf to hold it over your heads. You helped him as it got heavier and heavier, huddling closer to his side as it dipped and drooped.

You sigh and looked at him. "How're you holding up?"

"I might have to drop this thing, sorry." He admits quietly. And he's right. You can already see how tired his arms are getting and the scarf is soaked through already, it's not like it helping keeping either of you dry anymore.

Then again, that doesn't answer your question.

You sigh and shake your head, dropping the scarf already. The rain instantly soaks into your hair and shirt, making everything seem twice as heavy. "Do you think we'll reach the others anytime soon? Wild and Time are still behind us, right?"

Warrior sighs also dropping the scarf. Water drips down his face in an instant. "I'm no longer sure. It's too dark to make out anything directly in front of us. If anything, we might be better just sticking to one spot and waiting either for the others to catch up to us or for the storm to stop."

You hum and think about it for a moment. "Do you think there's any cave nearby to take shelter in? I know there's no lightning but I don't feel conformable taking shelter under a tree, just in case."

Warrior looks around, wiping his face free of as much water as he can. He takes your hand and point. "There's that."

It's not much, a large rock jutting out of the ground with only enough space for you both to sit under it. But it'll have to do. You nod and together you both run to the little respite in the storm.

Warrior instantly does his best to clear the area of smaller rocks and twigs for you both to sit comfortable. your heart squeezes a little at the act. He sits down, pressing his back against the rock and pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "I wish I do more..."

"This is good enough." You feel yourself growing shy at the close contact. He's never done this before... or has he? It seems so natural to him that he didn't seem to think twice- it's only now that you're noticing it.

You look down for a moment and tuck yourself closer. Warrior takes off his scarf and sets it aside. He takes off his armor and outer most layers. He's warm, you realize and his tunic is still dry. He gestures for you to do the same. Granted, you don't wear as many layers as he does, but by shedding the first one, you instantly feel better and warmer as he pulls you in closer again.

Only his form is more obvious to you this time around- and yours to him. Warrior doesn't seem bothered by it.

You however can feel yourself blushing. This seems awfully familiar to you. Have you dreamed about it before? Your heart is pounding, but it feels good. You feel happy just at the thought of this.

Hold on.... Why?

....Uh-oh.. are you crushing?

"Feel better?" Warrior whispers next to your ear and you look up at him. You bite your lip and nod, unable to hold the look for long. Warrior chuckles under his breath and rubs your shoulder comfortingly. "Good."

Oh, that laugh is going to haunt you now. You liked him. But now it's complicated.

part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader

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chloe-skywalker · 6 months

Text

Detention - Draco Malfoy

Draco x sister fem!reader

Warnings: Mention of Umbridge torture

Word count: 746

Summary: Umbridge doing the torture scar’s to Y/n Malfoy, and Draco’s pissed and tells their parnets.

Authors Note: Part 2? Where their parents got Draco’s owl and come to Hogwarts concerned and pissed? (& they find out why she got detention in the first place)

Harry Potter Masterlist

Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Where have you been?” Draco asked as Y/n finally came and sat at the Slytherin in the great hall.

“Umbridge gave me detention for the entire month.” Y/n scoffed annoyed at the way things had become. School was where she felt she could relax some, since Malfoy Manner wasn’t a place of relaxation. But with all the changes school was feeling a lot like home.

“Why?” Draco furrowed his brow concerned and concerned and confused for his sister.

“She said it was because I kept my desk’s to disoganized.” Y/n shrugged not to sure why she got detention in the first place.

“Thats bull.” Draco scowled, his sister was always so clean and kept. Draco didn’t believe it for a second. Besides why would someone get detention for that?

“I agree.” Y/n nodded.

“At least its just a month.” He concluded hoping to ease her nerves that Draco was sure she was feeling. Knowing their parents were to hear of this and not be thrilled.

“Yeah.” Y/n sighed, hoping that the letter going home about this detention would get lost.

It wasn’t home she should of been worrying about as she soon learned. Once she started her series of detentions Y/n Malfoy found out who the true monster in Hogwarts was.

Detention was terribly stressful and anxiety ridden. On top of that she had gotten a letter from home that wasn’t the nicest ither. But from the words written it didn’t sound like they were told ‘why’ she was having detentions, and y/n felt like if they knew ‘why’ then they wouldn’t be nearly as mad.

But Y/n was to afraid to write back. What if it made things worse, what if Umbridge intercepted her letter?! No way, she couldn’t risk it and make her punishments worse.

But it was becoming increasingly hard to hide her hand from her brother. Their twin bond didn’t help and she could tell Draco knew something was up. Y/n was worried if she told him that he might view her as weak.

All that came crashing down around her one day in the library. Draco came storming in and headed straight towards her and sat down. Determined to get answers.

“What's wrong Draco?” Y/n asked once he sat down having watched his dramatic entrance, and noticing her antsy behavior.

“Why’s your hand wrapped?” He asked. It had been bothering him for awhile, he was already concerned about his twin 24/7. But seeing her hurt was ripping him apart on the inside.

“I got hurt.” Y/n cast her gaze downward, nervously picking at a loose thread on her skirt.

“How? Let me see.” Draco jumps immediately into protective mode, very concerned.

“Draco-”

Y/n tried to stop him but he had already reached foreward and grabbed abhold of her hand. Pulling off the bandage wrap and exposing the carvings into her hand that would definitely scar.

“What’s this?” Draco questioned with wide eye’s looking between Y/n and her torn up hand. Seeing horrible, nasty, un-true words carved into her hand made Draco want to cry. And with looking into his sisters eye’s seeing all the emotions and tears in them broke his heart. “Y/n, where’d you get this? Who did this to you?”

Y/n knew there was no point in trying to lie to him now that he’s seen the evidence. “Umbridge, and at detention. It’s her version of it.”

“This is unethical and torture.” He growled in anger that someone dared to harm his sister.

“Trust me, I know.” Y/n pulled her hand back and wrapped it back up again, so it wouldn’t get infected but also so no one would see.

“How many times?” Draco asked even though he knows he doesn’t want to hear it’s been more than once, he knows it’s been more than 1 time.

“4. So far. But I still have the rest of the month.” She told him shakily, nervous about having to go through more of this torture.

“I’ll tell father and mother about this. She’s not going to touch you again.” Draco states pulling her into him to comfort her, noting her shakiness, which he’s very sure was going to lead to a panic attack.

That night after dinner Draco wrote a letter explaining the situation to their parents on paper, and sent it around midnight to assure no one would notice anywhere in the castle.

Taglist:

@gruffle1 @padawancat97

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toournextadventure · 1 year

Text

everyone but her pt.20

Summary: Grief comes in many different forms and stages. You're stuck on anger, and Wednesday accompanies you to the funeral. But she says something wrong, with the best of intentions, and you end up doing something that will change your family dynamic for the worse.

Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: grief, child abuse, self neglect (not eating, recklessness, not taking care of self, excessive drinking), extreme anger, flashbacks (mentions of car accident, injuries, illusions to criminal activity), swearing, violence, smoking Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @captainbeat @smromanoff

Everyone says grief comes in five stages; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But you disagree. It’s not five stages, it’s one. Only one stage that washes over you like a wave and holds you under until you’re drowning. You’re drowning and watching everyone on the surface live their lives as if you aren’t just right underneath them, choking on the salty sea water as you scream for help.

It’s only one stage; agony.

The house was bigger than you remembered when you got home far too early in the morning. The barristers were cleaner, the kitchen was far more pristine, and it was quiet. It was far too quiet, and your hands started to go clammy at the revelation. There wasn’t even any comfort in the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. Tick-tocks burned themselves into your brain until it was stabbing into your head like a knife.

You started humming a tuneless song. It eased the pain slightly.

"Don't hum, dear," your mother said as she took her gloves off and handed them to your maid and previous nanny, Mabel. "It's childish."

Your humming died off and the silence came back.

"Mabel will show you to your room,” your father said, resting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. For a moment, things almost seemed okay. “We will mourn tomorrow, then start the preparations.”

And just like that everything came crashing down once again. Paired perfectly with the migraine that still refused to settle.

“Oh, Y/N,” your father called out before you managed to get more than three steps up.

You turned around slowly, each joint still aching from the fall earlier in the night. Was it that same night? It felt so long ago. Nothing felt like you had been on a carnival date earlier in the night, that you had been having fun with Wednesday and the gang less than eight hours ago. Or was it longer than that? Did it even matter anymore?

“Your principal wanted you to have your phone back,” he continued when you stayed silent. He smiled softly down at the phone in his hands before looking up and handing it back. “Your conversations are a bit concerning,” he said when your fingers brushed his to take it back. “I installed a program to track your activity.” You blinked once. “For your well-being.”

For my well-being. Right. Of course.

“You have a few unread messages,” your father called after you as you turned to walk back up the stairs. “You should let them know everything is alright.”

Be angry, a voice in the back of your head growled when Mabel continued to guide you through the now-unfamiliar corridors. It was a familiar voice, one that hadn’t reared its head in months, but you couldn’t quite place it. He went through your phone, so you need to get angry. No. No, you wouldn’t get angry. Why not? Your jaw clenched painfully. Nicky wouldn’t have gotten angry.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in the doorway of the room - your room - and looked sideways at Mabel. She looked older, more worn. Maybe it was just from working for your parents for so long. How was her son? Had he graduated college yet? He had wanted to be an engineer, if you remembered right. Why did she look so sad?

“I am truly sorry,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine your grief.”

No. No, she couldn’t imagine your grief. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to see him not even a week earlier, alive, and not knowing it would be the last time you saw him. She couldn’t fucking imagine what it was like and no one could fucking imagine what it was like.

The migraine throbbed again and you squeezed your eyes shut to try and ease it.

“The headaches will stop in time,” she said. Your eyes flew open. “They always have.”

“What?”

Mabel tilted her head and a crinkle formed between her eyes.

“Your headaches,” she said, her finger lifting to tap lightly against your left temple. “They always got worse when Nicky stopped suppressing.”

“Suppressing?”

Her sorrowful smile slipped into a frown.

"Yes," she said softly, "don't you remember?"

No.

"Well, I suppose that would defeat the point," she chuckled lightly. "He could suppress memories," she explained softly, gently, agonisingly. "He always chose the bad ones, of course."

No.

"I myself got a slight headache when he passed."

No.

"It's how I knew he was truly gone."

No!

"Y/N?"

You shoved past Mabel, forcing her back into the hall. The stairs passed under you four at a time until you were on the ground floor.

"Darling?-"

"-Where are you going?-"

"-It's 4 in the morning-"

"-Get back in the house."

Your parents' calls fell on deaf ears as you threw the front door open and stormed outside. Your feet picked up speed as you walked down the endless driveway. The moment they hit the pavement you broke out into a jog, then a sprint. Your shoes hit the pavement of the road in a steady rhythm.

"You really wanna know?" Nicky asked after taking another one of your chess pieces.

"You promised you would tell me," you said with a frown.

"How about I make it your graduation present," he teased. "Give you something to look forward to."

"Deal," you said with a smile. He knocked your king off the board.

The excessively large houses blurred as you ran down the street. Motion lights turned on and guard dogs barked when you passed by.

"That was the year they left us to fend for ourselves for the week," Nicky laughed with Yoko.

"I don't remember that," you said with a slight frown.

"You were, uh, too young," Nicky said with a smile and a pat on your back. "Not worth remembering anyway."

The houses thinned and were quickly replaced with trees. Your feet stumbled as pavement turned into dirt. Icy air froze your tired lungs, leaving a sensation of needles in your chest.

You pushed your feet faster.

"Nicky, I'm tired," you whined after tripping over your own feet again.

"Just a few more hours," he said. His shirt had finally dried and looked stiff. “Then we’ll be back at Nevermore.”

"You said that a few hours ago," you complained. "My skin is itchy."

"We'll wash it off later," he said. He wasn't even looking at you.

"Are they gonna find us?" You asked as you did a little jog to catch up to him and hold his hand.

"No," he said without hesitation. The dried blood was starting to flake off his forehead. The cut on his nose looked angry.

"Is this gonna give me bad dreams?" You asked in a small voice. He stopped in his tracks and picked you up, letting you crawl onto his back.

"Of course not," he said softly. "You won't even remember it."

The forest flew by. Each twig and branch that whipped across your face made you feel more and more alive. It was a feeling, and you needed a feeling. Anything, everything, whatever you could get.

Everything hurt. Oh god, it hurt so bad and you couldn’t scream.

“Hang on, kid, we’ve gotta get the door.”

“Where’s Nicky?” You asked. Your tongue felt heavy, like lead.

“Gotta get you first,” a man’s voice said. “Stay still.”

“Nicky?” You slurred; the words tasted of copper.

Your eyes fell to the top of the car that was now underneath you. It was covered in something shiny. Something red.

Your lungs couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t take the cold, couldn’t take the exertion, the stress, none of it. And it felt. You could feel them. The more you ran, the more it hurt and soon you could focus on the pain in your side instead of the pain in your head.

Memory suppression.

There was no thought about stopping, your feet just slowed their movements until you collapsed to your knees on the cold, damp forest floor. You felt the end of a stick dig into your hand, splitting the skin. The blood was warm; it was comforting. Each gasping breath felt like you were inhaling shards of glass, each one more painful than the last.

And it felt.

“I feel angry,” you said as you sat at the top of the wall and watched Nicky continue to climb.

“You always feel angry,” he grunted. He was stuck. As usual.

“I don’t know why,” you sighed. “I can’t think of anything that would make me angry.”

“It’ll go away,” he said as his face finally pulled up and you could look him in the eyes. “Good kids don’t stay angry.”

“Am I a good kid?” You asked softly. He smiled.

“The best.”

You let out the most feral, unhinged, excruciating scream you could possibly produce. It hurt your throat and left it feeling raw.

But it felt.

The sun had started to rise before you could get up from your position on the ground. Your knees were stiff and soaked to the bone and the stick in your hand had broken off. It would leave a splinter that would need to be dug out. There was a lingering ache in your throat and lungs and that migraine still wouldn’t go away. And when you started walking mindlessly back to the house, you could feel blisters on your feet and heels; a few of them even popped.

But at least it felt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?-”

“-We were about to call the police-”

“-You look like a stray dog-”

“-We just cleaned the entry-”

“-Where do you think you’re going?”

You couldn’t recall getting home. But you continued walking through the house as your parents called after you, practically dragging yourself up the stairs until you made it into your room. The door fell shut and the lock clicked into place and all you could do was fall back to your knees.

The cold wooden floor didn’t feel so bad. At least it felt.

—---

You wished you were numb again.

The day of mourning came and went, each second testing your patience and wearing you thin. You hadn’t slept, hadn’t showered, hadn’t even gotten up from your spot on the floor. You could hear your phone vibrating on the wood, almost loud enough to wake the dead. Maybe it would wake Nicky, you thought before finally checking it to make it stop.

Not even noon and you had 17 missed calls, 72 texts, and a plethora of messages from the vast array of other social media outlets. A large number were from Yoko, then Ajax, the rest of the group, and your family back home. Two or three calls from Momma Weems and your family. But your eyes started to sting when you saw the name for two messages.

Nicky.

You clicked on them immediately, desperately hoping to see what he had said. Something in the back of your head was screaming at you not to open them, not to get your hopes up. Your eyes trailed over the messages, reading them once, twice, three times before it finally clicked.

It wasn’t Nicky.

You had given Wednesday his phone.

You hadn’t ever changed the name.

Nicky: Thing wishes to know if you’ve made it back safe.

Nicky: I wish to know as well.

Fuck. Now you were making Wednesday feel things too? Why would she even care anyway. It wasn’t like she loved you anyway, wasn’t like she even really cared. You knew she didn’t do love, she had said it to her mother time and time again. Why would she care if you were safe.

Didn’t she know Nicky was the one who needed the attention?

You growled at nothing in particular before throwing your phone across the room, hearing the screen shatter when it hit the wall. The sound made you flinch and you instantly felt that guilty feeling deep in the pit of your stomach. It vibrated again.

You didn’t check it.

—---

“You need to eat something before you go,” Mabel urged you once again as you finished buttoning up your shirt.

“‘m not hungry,” you mumbled. Your fingers faltered on the buttons; it wasn’t fitting like it was supposed to.

“You haven’t eaten in five days,” she said in a far softer voice. It was humiliating.

“Too busy planning,” you said, finally deciding to give up and instead throwing a jacket over the crooked, too-big shirt. “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

You moved past Mabel and went down the stairs to meet up with your parents. It was the day to finalise plans; something that you knew was going to cause argument after argument. There had already been too many screaming matches the past few days, none of which ever came to a definitive conclusion.

Maybe today would be different.

“That jacket is unprofessional,” your mother said with a slight frown.

“The shirt doesn’t fit,” you said without looking up at her. Your fingers toyed with the shattered phone in your pocket.

“We will have it tailored,” your mother sighed, “again.”

“We will discuss it later,” your father said as he ushered everyone to the car. “We need to get going so we won’t be late.”

You sat in the back with the both of them while Jenkins started the drive to the funeral home. With a thunk, your head hit the window and you looked out at the houses passing by. The harness was pulled painfully tight and your wings were already stiff, but you didn’t care. At least it felt, right?

The phone in your pocket vibrated, and you pulled it out slowly to look at the two new messages.

Yoko: You don’t have to answer me, but answer Wednesday. She’s losing her mind

Ash: just saw your pop in town. told me about nicky. im so sorry

You exhaled through your nose and slid the phone back into your pocket without answering. There was no time to answer anyone anyway, you had planning to do. Although you shouldn’t be, he was still the source of the migraine that refused to go away.

Memory suppression. Just the thought made you sick and your mouth feel like you had swallowed cotton. How could he do that? How could he just hide your memories from you? Your own memories. He had no fucking right, those were your memories, not his.

“We’re here.”

You pulled your head back from the window and blinked a few times, doing your best to hide the anger. As you uncurled your fists, you could feel your nails pulling out of the skin; you had left four perfect crescent shaped cuts on your palms. Thankfully your pants were black, and you wiped the slightest bit of blood off on the legs.

The next thing you remember is sitting in one of the chairs across from the funeral director. You couldn’t recall getting out of the car, or introducing yourself. Hopefully you had done well or you would get an earful once you left.

“Today you will select the casket and can order the headstone,” the funeral director said as he slid over a bunch of paper.

“Casket?” You asked, turning your head to look at your parents. “We never agreed on burial.”

“Your mother and I have made the executive decision,” your father said with a smile.

“Then make a different one,” you said with a slightly raised voice.

“I’ll give you three a moment,” the funeral director said with a professional smile. Everyone stayed silent as he grabbed a few things and left, shutting the door behind him.

“Do not question our decisions in front of strangers,” your father said, his polite smile falling immediately.

“He didn’t want to be buried,” you said. Your chest felt tight, like it was caught in vice grips.

“He shall be buried with the other Smiths,” your mother said while you chuckled humourlessly. You pushed your chair back and stood up, walking to the other side of the table and pacing.

“He said he didn’t want to be buried,” you argued; the migraine was back. “Said it creeped him out and he would rather be cremated.”

“We never heard him say such a thing,” your mother said with a sigh.

“Maybe because you were never there,” you scoffed before freezing in your tracks.

Instantly the atmosphere in the room changed from uneasiness to aggression. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck and arms stand up and your breath caught in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I beg your pardon?”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry-”

“-We were never there?” Your father asked, louder this time.

You could hear the chair scrape against the floor and you turned your body to face him. He looked furious and the migraine came back stronger than before. Almost like someone was pushing glass into each individual fold of your brain. You could feel your palms getting sweaty.

Fight back, the voice in your head said. He abandoned us. Fight. Back.

“You weren’t there,” you said with a shaky voice. Be confident. “You left us and didn’t come back.”

“Did you ever stop to ask yourself why we would even consider doing such a thing?” Your father asked.

“Let’s focus on the burial,” your mother cut in, “we can talk about this later.”

“It’s because you produced two freak kids,” you said, your voice stronger, more confident. Your father walked around the table to come closer. Keep fighting. “Could you imagine if that got out?” He looked furious. “If anyone discovered that the high and mighty Smith family had two Outcast kids that they hid away-”

-your head jerked to the right as the slap echoed in the otherwise silent room. Keep it together, you thought as your lower lip started to quiver. You held back the stinging in your eyes as you stood up taller and turned back around to face him. It was times like this where you wished you were smaller so you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You will never say such a thing again,” he said as he jabbed a finger into your chest. “Do I make myself clear?”

Hit him back.

“Crystal,” you whispered through clenched teeth.

“He will be buried,” your father said with another jab. “That’s final.”

You could feel the persistent stinging of your cheek as you all sat down and the funeral director came back in. He didn’t comment. You didn’t prompt him to.

—---

Mabel had worked for the Smith family for 23 years, she knew when to hold her tongue. But when you all came back from the funeral home and she saw the new blooming bruise on your cheek, she felt a mix of anger and pity. She wouldn’t pretend you were the best at holding your tongue; you never had been. But your father also allowed you to push his buttons until he snapped.

She didn’t have to ask to know that was exactly what happened.

The days leading up to the funeral reminded her an awful lot of when you were younger, with the obvious differences. You were still reckless, almost even careless. Accidentally breaking things, roaming around the house without direction, doing anything and everything your heart desired without seeking permission or forgiveness.

There were times when she would be cleaning and would hear the sound of the grand piano lingering in the air, and she would sneak around the corner to watch you. Back ramrod straight, slender fingers poised perfectly over the keys, face completely neutral as you read the music on the stand. It was beautiful to hear you play again, and the occasional jazz tune that would sound when you were certain your mother wasn’t around was all the more enjoyable because of the slightest smile on your face.

Other times Mabel would catch you leaving the house without warning, not coming back until late in the night with dazed eyes and dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Those were the nights she would gently take you by the shoulders and guide you back up to your room. You did nothing to assist her as she cleaned you up and dressed you in something comfortable so she could put you to bed.

She did her best to ignore each and every new bruise or scratch or scar.

It was impossible to get you to eat. You dropped weight faster than she could keep track of, and no matter how many meals she left in your room, they always went untouched. She tried to keep small snacks like protein bars in your room in the hopes that you would eat them, but she had no way to tell if you did or not.

On evenings where guests would come over and you would be “encouraged” to socialise, she took note of the amount of drinks you would have each evening. It was always far too many, and she and Jenkins would end up carrying you back up to your bed before everyone had left for the night. You would always accept your scolding with a grimace and two Tylenol the next morning and go about your day.

You would pick fights with your parents. Never over anything important, always little things and they were starting to pick up on that as well. At first they had fought back, getting into screaming matches with you and sending you off to your room. But then you tried to start fights over the silverware, or the way your shoes fit, or even how bright the lights were in the room. It didn’t take long for your parents to stop arguing back and just ignore you.

Mabel noticed that almost made you more angry.

Other times, your parents would nit pick at you as well. Over your hair, or the style of clothing you wore. If you had worn the same shirt twice or tracked mud into the house. Your speech quickly became more "professional" and you selected your words carefully in an effort to retaliate. It was far less outwardly destructive, but Mabel could still see the damage it inflicted reflect in your eyes.

But through all of your anger and self destruction and attempts to grab anyone’s attention, you always treated her and Jenkins with the utmost kindness and respect. That was what reminded her of when you were young. It was in the gentle “thank yous” or the soft smiles when she would hand you something. The questions about her son, or about Jenkins’ wife and cats, or any of the neighbours.

She knew you were a good kid. She knew, and Jenkins knew, and that was probably what hurt them the most through it all. You were a good kid with no one to truly lean on and no one to help guide you through this loss. And they knew it was just going to build and build and build inside you until it exploded.

The day before the funeral was the day you would see Nicky for the last time, and Mabel could see the fear and anger in your eyes. She and Jenkins had fully prepared themselves for your mental state when you got back, but even they couldn’t have prepared themselves fully.

You came into the house dazed, not hearing a single thing your parents were saying. But then it was like a switch had been flipped and you clenched your jaw before making a snide remark back to your mother. It didn’t take long to turn into a screaming match, and Mabel and Jenkins watched in horror as you balled up your fist and swung at your father.

The fear in his own eyes was evident even though your fist connected with the brick wall beside him; whether on purpose or not, you had missed him completely. Tears fell from your eyes and you screamed again as your father pulled you into a hug. Mabel watched helplessly as you tried to push him away before finally giving in and crying into his shoulder.

You held onto him like your life depended on it as your blood dripped down the pristine, white walls of the house.

“Your tie is crooked,” Mabel told you on the morning of the funeral. You had been struggling to get ready for over an hour, and no amount of makeup could hide the bags under your eyes or the lingering bruise on your cheek.

“So are these fucking buttons,” you mumbled as you ripped your dress shirt open to start over. She could feel you getting angry again. It was probably from the lack of sleep.

Or lack of food.

Or lack of help in general.

“Stay still,” Mabel huffed, setting the laundry basket down on your bed and standing in front of you.

You sighed, but remained still as she got to work on your shirt. It had been tailored only a few days before and still seemed a bit big again; it broke her heart. But she did her best to ignore it and focused on buttoning up your shirt properly. Your violent treatment had loosened two or three buttons, but she certainly wasn’t going to bring that up to you.

“How have your school ties survived this long if you can’t do them yourself?” She asked, her eyes darting up to meet yours. She almost thought you smiled.

“Wednesday always fixes them for me,” you said. You didn’t look down, but that was alright, she was focused on your tie anyway.

“You like this girl?” She asked softly. If your parents heard, they would have started screaming.

“A lot,” you answered just as softly. “I think I love her.”

“That’s a big emotion for you,” she said not unkindly.

“I hope I don’t fuck it up,” you whispered.

“You won’t,” she said with a smile as she patted your tie down. “You’re all set.”

You turned to look up at the mirror, eyes squinting and your jaw clenching before you relaxed. Mabel kept her smile to herself; she didn’t want to unintentionally encourage you to fight the reflection. You stood up straight and pressed your tie flat once again before slipping the suit jacket on.

“Thank you, Mabel,” you said softly, and you quickly leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Your lips were chapped, but it was expected.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” she said with a smile. You smiled back once, halfheartedly, before walking out of the room.

She really hoped your anger wouldn’t explode at the funeral.

—---

The whole car ride made Wednesday feel sick to her stomach. It had been a short flight down to D.C. and now she, Thing, Yoko, and Weems were finishing the trip with the short drive to the funeral. The rest of the gang had opted to stay at Nevermore for the time being; they didn't want to overwhelm you. The funeral was supposed to be outside, or so your mother had said, but it looked like rain. Usually perfect for such an occasion.

Just not this one.

She checked the phone again, hoping you had finally answered. It was a foolish hope, she knew that much, but it still resided in her chest. No one had heard anything from you since you had left the harvest festival, not even Yoko or your family. She shouldn’t have expected you to answer her of all people.

But she hoped you would have.

“We shall give her space,” Weems said once she pulled the car through the gates to the cemetery. It was connected to the reception hall, where everyone would go after the service.

It reminded Wednesday an awful lot of the cemetery back home.

“Except you, Addams,” Yoko said, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

“Why me?” She asked.

“You give her peace,” Weems answered.

Well, that was comforting; surprising, Wednesday knew. To know that everyone else could see her effect on you; had they seen your effect on her? They probably had. Enid certainly had, and that was more than enough torture. But if they said she gave you peace, then who was she to argue.

Once the car was parked, everyone got out. Thing climbed onto her shoulder as she unfolded the umbrella. She waited patiently as Weems and Yoko got out as well, each holding their own umbrellas, before they started the short walk to the grave.

It seemed the rain had ruined the original funeral plans, seeing how no one was sitting anymore and the chairs were in the process of being removed. Wednesday and the small group stood off to the side and waited. They hadn’t exactly been invited, but who was going to stop them? Especially at a funeral.

You were one of the lead pallbearers, the one on the front left. Wednesday felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sight of you; dark eyes, clothes hanging off your smaller frame, your wings invisible beneath your suit jacket. But the worst part was you didn’t seem sad. No, you looked angry.

After lowering the casket back to the ground, you hesitated, your fingers running across the wood before you walked to stand near your parents. They tried to offer you an umbrella but you ignored them. You simply stood in the rain, looking down at Nicky’s casket as an old, unsteady man started talking.

Wednesday simply watched you the whole time. Watched the difference in your posture, your back straight and head up. She took note of the way you clasped your hands in front of you even though she could see the scabbed over skin pulled taut across your knuckles. She watched the muscles in your jaw tighten and relax, over and over and over as you blinked too many times to keep the tears at bay.

You were upset, rightfully so, but Wednesday couldn’t have found you more beautiful. Not because you were suffering, not because you were struggling, but because you were. You were handling everything so well, at least on the outside, and she couldn’t help but admire the way the rain fell down your face, caressing the skin in comfort.

Your family, you included, looked impeccable standing there together. Wednesday could only imagine how powerful all of you would have looked if the four of you had been together; you, Nicky, and your parents. Standing there in perfectly tailored suits, manicured to perfection, neutral expressions on your faces. Is that how you would have looked if you had stayed with them? Would she have had the same pull toward you?

She waited until the funeral itself was over before making her way to your side. Everyone else - including Thing - had gone inside to escape the rain and start the reception, but you didn’t move a muscle. Her shoulder brushed against your arm when she got close enough, and for a moment your shoulders fell and your jaw unclenched.

“I’m tired, Wends,” you said in such a quiet voice that Wednesday almost couldn’t hear you over the rain. “And I feel alone.”

Time to use the comfort teachings everyone had been helping her with for the past two weeks. They had drilled it into her head time and time again, through all hours of the day and night until she could recite it properly. It was robotic sounding, she knew that much, but it was a start. She hoped it would work.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Wednesday said. You stiffened beside her. “But you are not alone.”

“Did Yoko teach you that?” You asked, immediately catching on. She should have known better.

“I-,” don’t lie, “-yes,” she admitted. “I’m not particularly adept at comfort.”

“I don’t want comfort,” you said, turning to look at her. The rain had finally started washing off the makeup from your face and she thought she could see something on your cheek. “I don’t want pity. I want you to be real with me.”

“Real?” Wednesday inquired with furrowed brows.

“Yes, Wednesday, real,” you huffed. “Be real with me and tell me what you’re thinking.”

Now that you had put her on the spot, she wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She was thinking of the now-obvious bruise on your cheek and where it had possibly come from. She was thinking of the bags under your eyes if you had been getting enough sleep, which clearly you hadn’t.

Part of her was thinking of her own parents, as unusual as it would be. How they had fallen in love at a funeral and had confessed their undying devotion to each other. Funerals had always been a romantic event for the Addams family, and she was aware this was for your brother, but she couldn’t deny she knew what her parents had meant every time they reminisced.

Oh. That’s what she was thinking.

“I am thinking…,” she paused, blinking at you twice, three times and looking away. You wanted real. She looked back up at you to meet your probing gaze. “I love you.”

Your brows knit together as you looked away from her for a moment.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You asked what I was thinking,” Wednesday clarified slowly. “I was simply thinking that I-”

“-Don’t say it again,” you interrupted.

And right there, right then, Wednesday felt her cold dead heart break in her chest.

“You did not just say that,” you said with a huff. “Did you really just confess?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said indignantly. “It’s what I was thinking at the moment.”

“We’re at my brother’s funeral, Wednesday,” you said, far louder this time. “Do you really think this is the time?”

“You asked,” she said again. “Why would you ask if you didn’t want to know?”

“I can’t,” you said as you held your hands up and started backing up. “I just- I can’t do this right now.”

Wednesday let her umbrella fall as she watched you walk off toward the reception hall with hands on your head, covering your ears. She could feel the rain slowly seeping through her coat, but all she could really focus on was you. Only you, and how her father had been right.

Love was agony.

—---

You were going to be sick. You could feel it in your chest, your lungs, your stomach. Your mouth wouldn’t stop salivating and you were going to be sick. How could she say that? How could she tell you that now? Your palms were sweaty when you dragged them down your face, ignoring the makeup that you wiped off with it.

It should have been exciting to hear Wednesday say such a thing. She was capable of love, a genuine love, and had even felt so strongly as to verbally tell you as such. And it had been ruined because they had killed Nicky and now you couldn’t even enjoy the single fucking good thing in your life.

You felt sick.

Your parents were standing in the middle of the room, talking and laughing with some lawyer or congressman or senator or whoever the fuck else could put up with them long enough to talk. It was like they weren’t even upset, they weren’t even devastated that their son, their first born, was currently being buried six feet under. Didn’t they care?

You felt sick.

Weems, Yoko, and Thing were off to the side, talking with each other. They looked up, almost as if sensing your staring, and gave you sad smiles. They pity you, the voice in your head spat in disgust. You frowned at the thought and turned around, looking for someone, anyone to talk to. Hell, at that point you would’ve taken the old man off to the side that was giving you a look that made you rather uncomfortable.

Your eyes fell on a couple standing next to the fireplace, talking quietly with each other. Something about them seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place from where. But you stopped caring when you saw the subtle cloud of smoke fall from the taller one’s lips and you quickly made your way over.

“Mind if I steal a hit?” You asked when you got nearby. The taller one smiled sadly.

“Sure,” they said as they handed the vape over.

You grabbed it and brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply. It scalded your throat and stung your lungs as you held it in for far too long before slowly exhaling. You watched the smoke as it evaporated into the air, leaving nothing but a sickeningly sweet smell in its place.

“That’s disgusting,” you mumbled as you handed it back to them. The shorter one still hadn’t looked up from the hole they were staring into the ground.

“It’s marshmallow,” they chuckled.

“Like I said,” you said, “disgusting.”

“You’re Nicky’s sister,” they said with a half smile, avoiding your gaze by looking out at the crowd again.

“You’re a couple of strangers,” you said.

“I’m Casey,” they chuckled lightly, “and this is Devon.”

Devon finally looked up and eyed you up and down before looking back to the crowd with the slightest hint of a sneer. If you hadn’t spent so much time with Wednesday, you would’ve missed it. What could they possibly be sneering at you for? It was your brother’s funeral. You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten.

“He talked about you a lot,” Casey said softly.

“How would you know?” You asked way more harshly than necessary. Part of you didn’t care. Okay, none of you cared. “He hasn’t exactly done much talking recently.”

“The three of us were… close,” they said with a distracted nod.

“He was in a coma for four years,” you scoffed, “how close could you be.” You reached over and took the vape from their hand and brought it to your mouth for another hit.

“We were his partners.”

You choked on the smoke, leaving your throat raw and scratchy. Your head spun to look at Casey and Devon, eying them to see any sort of discrepancies in their body language. If Wednesday had taught you one thing, it was how to tell if someone was lying. Avoiding eye contact, licking their lips, anything.

There wasn’t a single sign.

He hadn’t told you he was dating anyone. Why hadn’t he told you? Surely he would have, you two told each other everything. He was your big brother, for fuck sake, he would have told you. Right?

Right?

“We loved him too,” Casey said softly; they still weren’t looking at you.

He lied. He fucking lied.

You looked out at the crowd and took another hit of the vape. Then another. And another. And a fourth one for good measure. It felt like your lungs were going to burn themselves to embers, but you didn’t care. At least it felt. After a fifth hit, you slipped it back into Casey’s hand and continued looking out at the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice now hoarse and deeper than usual.

“We’ll get through it,” they said. “He’ll get his justice.”

They know he deserves justice too, the voice in the back of your head said. You couldn’t argue with it. But what else could you say? It was too much and you had too many questions. Where had they met? How long had they known Nicky? How long had it been going on?

You felt sick.

You didn’t bother saying anything else to them before walking off, walking through a haze until you ended up with the group your parents were talking to. A few of them tried talking to you, giving their most insincere condolences before going back to their conversations.

It was disgusting. Watching them laugh and talk as if you weren’t standing at a funeral reception. As if you hadn’t been standing at Nicky’s literal graveside less than an hour ago. Heartless, the voice said, they killed him and are using it as an excuse to socialise.

“I can’t recall what caused his condition,” one of the men said when there was a lull in the conversation.

“A car wreck,” your father said with a few mindless nods of his head.

“That’s tragic,” a woman said. “Drunk driver?”

“An Outcast, actually,” your father answered.

Wait.

“What did you say?” You asked, drawing everyone’s attention.

You felt something tug on your pants, and your eyes darted down for just long enough to see Thing. He was wearing a little black bowtie around one of his fingers. But you weren’t focusing on him; you were too busy thinking about what your father had said.

“I said an Outcast caused the wreck that killed my son,” your father continued. His back straightened as he kept eye contact with you.

“Abominations, the lot of them,” a man huffed before taking another drink of the wine in his glass.

Thing pulled at your pants leg again. You kicked him away, listened to the subtle sound of him scuttling across the floor. Thankfully no one else had noticed him.

“An Outcast didn’t kill him,” you bit back. “You two were the ones that pulled his life support.”

The group around you fell silent, now beyond interested in the conversation. Any chance to get a good helping of gossip, of course. That was how all socialites worked, especially when another socialite was involved. In this case it was your parents; they were going to be the talk of the town for a year.

“No son of mine should have to exist as a vegetable simply because we couldn’t be merciful,” your mother said. “Especially because of some sinful abomination.”

“Stop calling them abominations,” you growled through clenched teeth.

Your fingers were starting to ache as they curled into fists at your side. Your pulse was rushing in your ear and for a moment, you felt your chest was going to explode. That your heart would beat faster and faster, harder and harder until it finally broke free.

You took a single step closer.

“If it were up to me, I’d have them all euthanised,” your father said as he smiled at you with his “show everyone we’re perfect” smile. You took another step forward until you were almost directly in front of him. “The world would be a much better place.”

The sounds of the world muffled in your ears, and all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing. Erratic, shallow, rushed. Something dripped down your neck and your jaw felt like it was going to crack under the pressure. That migraine came roaring back as you stared into your father’s eyes.

Do it.

Your fist connected with his nose before you could even comprehend what was happening. The people around you gasped and stepped back as your father fell to the ground. One of his hands attempted to stop the flow of blood while he held the other out in front of him.

But you saw red.

You knelt down on top of him, only one thing on your mind as you grabbed his shirt collar. He almost looked remorseful for a moment. But only for a moment. Again. You tightened your grip on his collar as you swung again. And again. And again.

Harder.

You could hear Nicky in the back of your head, screaming and pounding against the inside of your skull. Telling you to stop, begging you to let your father go. Each time Nicky pounded against your skull, you threw another punch. And another. Something wet slid down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop.

Something wrapped around your waist and yanked you back. Hard. The wind flew out of your lungs and you instantly grabbed onto the arms around you. You tried to pull them off but your hands were slick and you couldn’t get a good hold. You were stuck.

“Y/N, stop,” the voice said into your ear. Weems?

“Say it again,” you shouted at your father who was frozen on the ground, bruised eyes focused on you. “Say it again, you fucking coward.”

“Breathe,” another voice said before someone stepped in front of you. Yoko?

“You're defending the group that killed your brother,” your mother said as she knelt down to look at your father’s injuries. He was wheezing and covered in blood. "You should do this to them instead."

You tried to lunge forward again, and the arms around your waist almost gave out. You threw a leg out, hoping to kick him while he was down. Just one more. But the arms around your waist tightened again, and Yoko grabbed your flailing feet until you were being carried out of the room.

“Don’t you fucking touch them,” you shouted as you continued attempting to fight and Weems and Yoko struggled to carry you. “I’ll fucking kill you next time.”

You felt sick.

The cold air and rain hit you like a brick wall when you were finally outside. The arms and hands holding you back let go and you fell onto the ground as you stared at the now-closed doors of the reception hall. Your frantic breathing was the only thing you could hear.

“Breathe.”

Another face came into view, and almost instantly your breath caught in your throat. Wednesday’s eyes were wide and focused on your face. They were bloodshot; why were they bloodshot? Her hands were poised to touch you, to check you for injuries, but the moment you felt her hand on your arm you flinched.

You saw red. Only red. You wanted to hurt something. Someone. You didn’t give a fuck who it was, you just wanted to make someone else hurt the way you were hurting. To swing at whoever was closest.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you said as you crawled back across the ground. Wednesday immediately let go.

I don’t want to hurt you, you thought as you pushed yourself up to your feet until you could start stumbling away. Shaky fingers unbuttoned your jacket and ripped the buttons off your shirt until you could reach the harness. They were calling after you; you didn’t know what they were saying. The harness hit the ground and the moment your wings unfurled, you jumped into the air.

You had nearly hurt Wednesday.

You felt sick.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #everyone but her au

658 notes · View notes

ventishipwindows · 10 months

Text

Emotional Support Wisps

Tags: Established relationship (Venti x gn!reader), sick reader, wind wisps comforting u bc venti isn't there for like half of it, mild emetophobia warning (just a mention), NOT beta read, or edited at all tbh, im bad at tagging sorry

Author's Notes: uh yea this has been sitting in my drafts for a couple days, it's self-indulgent bullshit bc i had a massive headache the other day but. idk someone can enjoy this maybe??

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

Venti had known something was wrong first. He'd seen it in your eyes, that little glimmer of pain behind them you'd refused to acknowledge. He'd offered to stay home to keep any eye on you if you weren't feeling good, concerned you might be coming down with something.

You had waved it off, told him you were fine. Said it was just a little headache, nothing too big to worry about.

You were regretting that now. That tiny inkling of a headache had evolved into an agonizing migraine. You'd pulled the curtains to your window closed, put a blanket over your eyes to keep the light out, and laid down in bed waiting for it to pass.

Time seemed to crawl on, that splitting pain in your head seeming to do nothing more than continue, and it only worsened when your stomach started to churn with nausea. It was almost enough to push you to try and use the wind to get Venti's attention, but you knew he was probably still performing right now, and decided not to bother him.

However, even though you didn't call out to him directly, he had a sense something was off. He always could tell when something was wrong with you, his beloved Windblume, and he knew it was worse than you'd let on. Not that he could just leave mid-performance - not without you chewing him out and saying it wasn't that serious - but he could send a few... little friends to try and help in his place. He was sure they'd be convinced quite easily if he offered them a few apples afterwards.

And so, even with your eyes covered by that blanket, you could feel a few tiny bodies snuggling up to you. You recognized the little inquisitive chirps instantly - wind wisps. They must have snuck in through the open window. You'd seen them with Venti before, but never gotten quite close enough to touch one before.

Their bodies were soft, almost velvety to the touch, and their little wings fluttered gently as they chirped again. One of them seemed to be right beside your head, using its feathered wings to blow a breeze at you. It seemed to hit the exact spot where the pain was the worst, and the breeze was just cool enough to give you a bit of relief.

One of them curled up on your chest, and another pressed its little face against your cheek as if to reassure you. You didn't need words for you to understand what the wisps were telling you - that you'd be okay, that this would pass and they'd be here for you.

You reached out very carefully to touch the one pressed against your cheek, gently stroking its little head. It made a cheerful little tinkling noise that reminded you of a wind-chime, softly brushing the feathers of its wings against your palm.

The wisps were right. Eventually the pain in your head seemed to ease, and that awful twisting nausea in your stomach seemed to dissipate as well. Just enough that you felt like you could fall asleep, and hope that when you woke up, you'd feel better.

The wisps didn't seem to mind that idea, and as if they read your mind seemed to press closer to you in encouragement. They seemed to be telling you to sleep, that you needed to rest to feel better. They even started to make quiet noises, like tiny little purrs, to soothe you more.

Eventually, with the wisps' soft bodies pressed up against you, you couldn't help but close your eyes fully and let yourself drift off to sleep. The wisps were there, a comforting presence that made you feel safe, and even loved, somehow. You wondered briefly if Venti would be home by the time you woke up from your nap.

.o.O.o.

You're woken up by a soft kiss on the forehead. Just a gentle brush of lips against your skin, barely enough to wake you from your sleep and get you to open your eyes.

When you do open your own eyes, a familiar pair of green ones is looking down at you. Venti is back, sitting on the bed beside you and looking down at both you and the wisps sleeping beside you with a gentle smile.

"Are you feeling any better, Windblume?" He asks, quietly, as if he's worried being too loud will make the headache return.

You don't want to sit up just yet - the wisps look so peaceful, and it feels wrong to wake them. But you look up at him, and you realize that you do feel much better now. Like the migraine from before was nothing more than a bad dream - and maybe you'd assume it was, if not for the tiny little bodies curled up beside you.

"Did you send the wisps to check on me?" You ask him, your voice a little quieter than usual, too - probably because you just woke up.

A hint of a blush colors his cheeks, and he laughs quietly before responding with, "Well, I couldn't leave you all alone when you were in pain, could I?"

You can't help but smile at that, carefully sitting up to try and disturb the wisps as little as possible before planting a kiss on his cheek. "They did a very good job at making me feel better."

His blush darkened at the kiss on his cheek, although he met your smile with one of his own. "I was hoping they could, at least until I got home." And with that, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug - and dislodging the wisps, who chirped in protest before snuggling back up to you two and promptly resuming their naps.

You couldn't help but relax into the hug, too, resting your head on Venti's chest as he began to gently stroke your hair, twirling a few strands around his slender fingers.

"You can rest a little longer, Windblume. I'll be here to watch over you."

#genshin impact #genshin venti #venti x reader #wind wisps #writing #my writing :>

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bippot · 1 year

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Summary: When he used to say that he wished he could fall in love with his wife all over again, Bob may have jinxed himself. Yet, the process of knowing her once more wasn't as smooth as he'd used to think.

Honestly, he doesn't know which is worse - his broken bones or the fact she can't seem to forget who he once was?

Tags: Angst, Amnesia, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Airplane Crashes, Major Character Injury, Hospitals, True Love, Love at First Sight,Married Couple

Music Recommendation: Over Again by One Direction

Top Gun: Maverick, Robert "Bob" Floyd Masterlist - here

Bob had noticed it back in flight school. Whether they were in class or at a bar or watching a movie - anything other than flying really - Y/N would be playing around with his hands. She'd always do it. Sometimes unconsciously. Sometimes not.

His favourite was always when she would wrap her hand around his and gently trace random shapes into his palm. He never minded. In fact, it was pretty nice. Calming, actually. The sensation of her soft skin moving against his made something stir inside him. Thanks to this revelation, it became a method of calming him down. If he was ever anxious, he'd start trailing patterns across his hand. It wasn't as effective if he did it to himself, but it still worked, which was better than nothing.

So that's how he stood, standing there with his suit on with Nat beside him, making circles against his palm. Those circles were ten, maybe twenty times more heavy handed than Y/N would ever do. He took the time to imagine that it was Y/N's thumb, that she was here on the mission with him.

"You ready, Specs?" Nat teased, hoping that a little bit of back and forth would ease his mind. It didn't. Bob nodded stiffly back at her, and the pair began to walk to their plane.

Looking back, he had been correct in his worries that day. Only that day. All of the other times he'd thought the mission was going to go wrong, he was pleasantly surprised when it went right. That is, until it went wrong. Severely wrong. Engine failure whilst you're miles up in the sky in a metal box kind of wrong.

Bob had been in an accident. Lieutenant Floyd had been in the backseat as Lieutenant Trace's plane decided to call it quits on them. Robert James Floyd had been in the air one minute and the next he was being hauled to safety by Natasha Jade Trace. That's what she was told. Y/N knew it was the truth - why else would they have said it? - but no, she wasn't going to believe it until she saw it.

Then she saw Nat. She'd gotten away far better than Bob had. Alive but unconscious. Not a good sign. All of the wires and drugs they were pumping into her wasn't a good sign either. Phoenix had too many broken bones: who knows how many ribs? well, it's certainly 12 or below; an arm; a collarbone; a few fingers and a few toes. She got off easy.

For the first handful of hours, Y/N wasn't allowed to see her husband. He was busy. Surgery can take a long time, especially if you've broken most of the bones in your body. There needed to be some reconstruction to Bob before he was allowed out of the theatre and Y/N knew that more injuries would present themselves when he woke.

In the meantime, Y/N kept herself occupied by watching over Phoenix. Poor Nat had woken up to a doctor prodding her and scanned the room for answers. She found Y/N's face. A waterfall of tears and apologies poured out of Nat immediately, but Y/N was quick to soothe her.

"Hey, if anything, we should blame the plane. Its fault for giving up on the two of you. I'm going to fly out to the middle of the ocean and give those scraps a good yelling at," Y/N told her, smiling slightly despite everything.

Yeah, she was worried out of her goddamn mind, yet two blubbering messes wouldn't help anything. So, Y/N stayed strong for now. Just for the time being. There would be a moment when every single emotion would be laid bare, but this was not it. She could wait it out. For now.

"Move over a little, Nix."

Nat shuffled over to let Y/N lie down next to her on the hospital bed and was quick to press her face into her friend's shoulder, sobbing and shaking as the reality of what had happened sank in for her. Phoenix was distraught. How could she not be? Y/N put her arm around her friend's shoulders and stroked her hair softly, letting Nat cry into her neck. When the inevitable, "It's all my fault," lie popped up, Y/N was ready to argue otherwise. She held onto Nat tighter as she did so. No matter what state Bob ended up in, she was never going to let that sentiment slide.

The two most important women in Bob's life lay side by side on Nat's hospital bed and held each other tight all night. Nat's head was resting against Y/N's chest when they finally fell asleep, arms wrapped tightly around each other, both holding onto hope that Bob would wake and be perfectly okay. They knew that was delusional. But you've got to hope. Just holding onto someone felt like it could be okay someday.

Due to her injuries and the fact that sobbing can take a lot of energy, Phoenix fell asleep fast, lulled into a slumber by the rhythmic motion of Y/N running gentle fingers through her hair. It was soothing but still very painful at the same time for Y/N.

And once Y/N was sure Nat was firmly asleep, she let herself cry. Cry silently. She felt so useless just sitting there, tears streaming down her cheeks and her eyes grew blurry with grief. It was going to happen but Y/N was just relieved she held it together long enough that Nat didn't have to witness it. Every time her mind tried to focus on the current situation, it would jump from one horrible thought to another. The main one that kept bouncing around her skull was how the hell would she tell Bob's dad if he died?

Like his son, Bob Senior had that face. That look. That damn, stupid, determined, sweet look that seemed to always make Y/N want to keep him happy no matter the cost. His kind, easy-going nature had been imprinted on Bob Junior from a very young age, that could be gleaned easily. Y/N had noticed it mere minutes into her first introduction to Bob's parents.

There was just something about the Floyd men, a lightness, a smile and an attitude that radiated warmth, sunshine. She didn't want night to come and take that shine away.

It was around half four in the morning when Bob came out of surgery and was transferred to the room he'd come to spend the next few weeks in. Y/N hadn't slept. She couldn't. As soon as she saw the doctor approach, she quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and tried to make it look like she hadn't been falling apart for the last couple of hours before she woke Nat up with the news.

Yet, Nat noticed. Reaching out with a weak and wired hand, Nat brushed her pointer across Y/N's cheek to wipe some of the wetness away. The exchange was silent. Just a gentle touch that said everything it needed to in that moment.

At that point, the doctors had no idea what state Bob was going to wake up in. From the outside he looked banged up - as he should - but they'd stitched his wounds and bandaged his injuries. He was alive, breathing, stable, and sleeping peacefully. Now they just had to wait till he woke.

If he woke, the doctors reminded her.

Seeing Phoenix in such a state was manageable - not nice at all but bearable - because she was awake and it was possible to visibly assess her injuries in seconds. Not to minimise the pain Natasha was feeling, but it was simple. It was broken bones and a broken ego. Those can be fixed.

Slowly, Y/N inched her way closer to Bob's unconscious body. Despite how much she needed to be by his side, every step was as if she was walking on glass. With all the pain and worry in her heart, there was only one thought running through Y/N's mind. She didn't want Bob to wake up alone and scared so, with all the courage it needed, she got closer and closer until she was by his side.

"Hi pretty boy, hey handsome...I'm here and please take enough time as you need to wake up," Y/N whispered as gently as she could manage, caressing his cheek softly as tears continued to fall. With a sad chuckle, she added, "Although, it would be nice if you could do it as soon as possible. No pressure."

There was no response, no movement to indicate that she'd even heard Y/N. Still, Y/N stayed right beside him. She watched every single inhale. Examined every exhale. Every twitch. Every single moment that proved her husband was moderately okay was under insane scrutiny.

Maybe he was dreaming right now. She hoped he was having a wonderful dream of home, safe and sound and perfectly domestic.

"I love you. I know you know that and we say it all the time, but I don't know, you always get that goofy look on your face whenever I say it. And we've been together for years and you still react like the first time I said it to you. It's cute, really really cute."

She wished her words actually carried any magic to them. Because, right now, she honestly believed they did not. They meant nothing. They didn't heal him. They couldn't save him from whatever had happened to him. And they certainly weren't helping her calm down.

In truth, they were useless. She was useless.

Her voice cracked. She tilted her head towards the ceiling and tried to stop herself from breaking even further. And as she went to say something else, her throat closed up. She couldn't speak anymore. Her bottom lip quivered and she promptly bit down on it to stop the pained squeak from getting through.

Eventually, she passed out with her hand in his. It was a nice couple of hours of nothingness. A brief moment where she didn't have to look at her mangled husband. Or hear the beep of the heart rate monitor. Or smell the insufferably impersonal hospital scent that clung to every single piece of furniture. Or think about what the fuck would happen tomorrow.

Tomorrow came. Bob didn't wake. He didn't the next day either. The day after that, however, he opened his eyes.

Completely confused and immensely overwhelmed by all of his senses turning on at once, Bob looked frantically around the room, eyes adjusting slowly to the lights. What the...? Where was he? Who was he? Why did his body hurt all over? And why was some random woman asleep on his hand?

Although, he did have to admit that the random woman was pretty. That was a bonus, a silver lining that he wasn't intending to look for but found anyway. He wasn't sure how many women he'd seen before. This one? Had to be the prettiest, he was sure. That was the only thing he was sure about.

He tried to move but was bombarded with pain. His arms, his legs...his chest and head...everything hurt. Everything hurt a lot. Like badly. Like maybe a bit too badly. His vision began to swim and the edges of his eyeline started getting dark. Was that bad? It probably was.

So, he put all his focus on the pretty girl. He slowed his breathing down to match hers, which was helping him not to hyperventilate at that moment and cause himself more pain. He couldn't be in that much trouble if he had a guardian angel next to him. Surely.

It was taking the entirety of his effort to telepathically try to communicate to her, 'Hey! Wake up!' with minimal success. He was trying his best. He just wanted to ask who she was, who he was and what the hell was happening to him.

Finally, the stranger stirred awake. The first sign was when her fingers automatically began drawing circles against the back of his hand. She was rather surprised when the hand turned over so she could do the same to his palm. Her head shot up and her eyes widened upon seeing Bob awake.

"Hi baby," she greeted in a hushed but excited tone, her voice barely above a whisper just in case he was sensitive to noise, which the doctors had warned her that could be the case.

"Hi," he croaked, coughing a little before clearing his throat. He tried to sit up with difficulty but Y/N placed her hand upon his peck to gently push him back down onto the pillows.

"Just lie there for a while, okay? You need to stay still." Her hand came up to cradle his cheek, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone tenderly. For a few moments, there was silence between them. Nothing but the soft sounds of their breathing until Y/N asked, "Do you know where you are?"

Bob blinked once, twice, three times. "No. I assume I'm in a hospital."

"Miramar General." A few more blinks. "Where do you remember being last?"

Bob gave her a look so vulnerable and helpless, his eyes seemed to glaze over slightly as his brow creased in concentration. "Don't panic. Don't think too hard," she urged him, her other hand resting against his other cheek. "You're gonna hurt yourself. Just relax for me, alright?"

When Bob gave the slightest nod, some smidgeon of relief washed over her. At least he was responsive. He was alive, conscious, aware, and breathing. But he wasn't himself, she could tell just by looking at him. It was in his eyes. There was something missing.

Still, despite being terrified, he managed a smile anyway. He didn't want her to get worried because of his condition so he forced his features into something neutral to make her feel better. If anything, it made her feel worse because she could see right through the act.

Then, it hit her.

"Do you remember me?" She asked quietly, her eyes pleading with him with every single fibre of her being to speak and to tell the truth. The thing missing had been that spark of understanding that they shared. People often said the couple shared a brain.

He gulped.

"No."

Y/N felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She retracted her hands from his cheeks and let them fall limply to her lap, her eyes twinkling with quickly forming tears as she played what he'd just said in her head over and over again. Her husband doesn't remember her. He doesn't remember anything about their lives, both together and apart.

"Oh...I...Okay then," she mumbled under her breath, letting out a short, awkward laugh. "I should get the doctor."

Before she could move away though, he attempted to catch her wrist but pain flashed across his face and the sudden movement sent his entire body into agony. The sound of his cries alerted Y/N and she rushed to turn back towards him immediately.

Soothingly, she stroked his hair again, whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him, saying it was going to be fine. She repeated this process for a while until he gave her a little nod. Her voice sounded hoarse, so she cleared her throat and said with a small smile, "I'll go get the doctor, okay? Please don't try to move."

"Okay. I'm sorry for not remembering you."

"I know you are, Bobby."

Bobby? That must be his name. Yeah. Bobby. That sounded familiar. Almost familiar. He could imagine people calling him that. Like his parents - he assumed he had parents - he'd like to think he'd be Bobby to them. He felt like a Bobby.

Picking up the button, Y/N pressed for the assistance and was soon being asked to leave as they went over all the tests they needed to do. While he'd been easy-going with her, he was far from it with the doctors. He got agitated and frustrated with all the poking and prodding in seconds flat, causing him to start painfully squirming around and making muffled groans in his throat. He'd lost patience fast with all the stupid questions they asked him.

That was unlike him, Y/N thought. Although, it was understandable considering everything that's happened to him. She stood watching him through the window, her heart aching as she forced herself to stay put. She wasn't supposed to go inside, Y/N knew that, but she desperately wanted to calm him down, and wanted to give him a little bit of comfort.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bob noticed Y/N staring at him, watching him carefully while biting on her fingernails. He stopped resisting the medical professionals' attempts and finally allowed them to examine him. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for the care, he really was. However, he'd never seen all of these people before and he was feeling very claustrophobic and anxious with them around him.

He wanted Y/N. He desperately wanted Y/N in the room and he didn't even know her name.

As she was waiting, Rooster and Hangman arrived. Jake practically ran towards Y/N and wrapped her in a bear hug, squeezing her so tight she almost couldn't breathe. "I got ya, kid," he mumbled, holding her tightly against his chest before releasing her and taking in her appearance. "When did you last shower?"

Jake's question was answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Dude." Rooster punched him in the arm lightly and pushed him out of the way to embrace Y/N. "How are you feeling?"

"Sad." Y/N hugged him and buried her face into his shoulder, sniffing a little. "He just woke up and... and...he doesn't…us, he…" she trailed off, unable to find the strength to actually say it out loud.

"Doesn’t what?" Jake coaxed softly, rubbing soothing circles along the length of Y/N's back.

"He doesn't remember anything."

Tears began falling from Y/N's eyes at that point and she couldn't stop them anymore, no matter how hard she'd tried. She was sobbing, feeling completely overwhelmed with emotion, with pain and guilt all mixed in one gigantic ball. Then Jake wrapped her up in his strong arms one again, holding her up as her legs gave out beneath her and she clung to him for dear life. She cried into his shirt, soaking it with snot and tears and all kinds of gross stuff. He held her as tight as he possibly could without hurting her and whispered soothing words in her ear.

She eventually calmed down enough to pull away, wiping her wet, puffy eyes with her sleeve and sniffing a few times, trying to compose herself. "Sorry. God, I hate crying. It's disgusting," she chuckled halfheartedly, trying to cover her embarrassment. "Brad, do you mind checking on Phoenix, keep her updated? I haven't managed to do it yet today."

Rooster gave her a quick nod of agreement and squeezed her shoulder affectionately before heading toward the direction of Phoenix's room. Hangman stayed by Y/N's side and rubbed gentle circles against her arm while speaking softly to her in an attempt to calm her down.

They'd been friends for years and Jake knew Y/N was tough and brave enough to put up with a lot. She put up with him, after all. Yet, as he held his buddy, he felt tears prick his own eyes. He was unable to help himself. He could see that Y/N was breaking inside. Her facade that she used whenever they flew, which she usually wore with such confidence, had never faltered as much as this before.

Neither of them seemed inclined to say anything else for a while, neither one really knowing what to say that would explain things. They just watched Bob through the window, shoulder to shoulder with each other. Jake wasn't surprised when Y/N let her head fall against his arm and let out an exasperated sigh.

Eventually, the doctors allowed her back in, not without an in depth rundown of what was actually going on. General dissociative amnesia is what the fancy name for it was. His mental functions had broken down due to the excessive stress of the accident and severe trauma he'd suffered. His memories were gone. Completely erased.

His entire life, everything he experienced up until now, was just one big blur.

"Hi again."

Bob waved at Y/N timidly. His voice was still slow and raspy and his body language was even more subdued than usual due to all the drugs they'd given him. Still, he managed to smile slightly, though, if only barely.

"Hi Bobby." She grinned tiredly and walked over very slowly towards him. "Can I come closer?"

He nodded his head slightly and scooted over on his bed a little, giving her plenty of space so she could sit comfortably next to him. She climbed onto the bed hesitantly but he didn't seem annoyed or even phased by it at all. In fact, he welcomed her arrival, smiling a little more as she approached his side. "So, um....How are you feeling?" She asked nervously, looking into his eyes.

"Like I fell from a broken plane into the middle of the ocean and got bad head trauma." His lips curled upwards into another slight smile. "Other than that, I'm kinda tired."

"Do you... do you want me to -" She gestured towards the door. "If you need sleep I can -"

"No! No, don't go." He shook his head at her frantically. "Stay please." He glanced downwards, a blush painting his cheeks red and the tips of his ears turning bright red. "I mean... if you're comfortable with doing so."

Even without his memories, he was still considerate. It made her heart flutter in her chest. A soft silence settled between both of them as they stared at each other for a moment before Bob finally asked something that he'd had on his mind since he'd woken up, "What's your name? I asked the doctor but he was too busy - or wasn't listening, I don't know which - and didn't answer me."

Y/N looked down, fiddling with her fingers awkwardly. "It's Y/N. My name's Y/N," she muttered quietly.

"Y/N," Bob repeated slowly, testing the sound of the word on his tongue. He liked the feel of it. He enjoyed hearing Y/N's name coming from his lips. The sound felt natural, somehow. "Who am I to you, Y/N?"

There was an awkward pause as Y/N contemplated the best way to answer his question, wondering where she should begin, how much to tell him and what exactly she should reveal to him. She didn't want to throw him in the deep end and overwhelm him even further, knowing that he probably already had a pretty heavy load on his plate, but at the same time, Y/N also felt like telling him the truth.

To help him figure it out, she used her left hand to hold his, placing the identical bands on their ring fingers right before his eyes. The action caused him to raise his gaze to look down at their hands, noticing the band of silver glinting under the clinical lightning, then darted to met her eye, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

"No way! I hit the jackpot!" he exclaimed loudly, making Y/N jump a little bit at his sudden exclamation. "I'm married?! To you?!"

A laugh tumbled past her lips, the first one he'd ever heard leave her lips. "You sure are," she smiled widely at him and he returned her expression, laughing in turn. He looked at her with such adoration, his face softening even more, that Y/N couldn't help but beam at him like she always used to whenever he said such a thing.

"Do we have kids?"

Of course that would be high on his list of questions.

"No. Not yet. We were trying."

Honestly, he still couldn't get his head wrapped around the fact that this was his wife! And she was willing to have a family with him! But then again, there were quite a few things that he'd been told about his life that he didn't quite believe. Like, he was in the Navy? He hadn't witnessed much of his personality yet but he knew enough to think, 'Huh, wouldn't have expected that.'

"Trying? How hard?" He couldn't help the smug look on his face as he spoke, a mischievous grin on his lips as well. Y/N rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him in the hand, causing him to chuckle softly.

"Oh my god," she groaned with amusement "You're incorrigible."

Hangman snickered softly from where he stood near the doorway, watching everything unfold, and caught Bob's eye. Y/N followed his gaze and let out a sigh, mumbling, "Hangman, stop being a creep and get in here already."

Jake slowly approached them with a questioning look written across his features, unsure of how he should proceed. Y/N noticed and introduced them, "This is Jake. Despite his face and personality, he's actually a nice guy to be around sometimes."

"Aw Bambi, I didn't know you thought so highly of me!" Hangman teased.

"Bambi?" Bob echoed, staring at Y/N, dumbfounded. "I thought your name was Y/N?"

She huffed out a laugh and brushed comfortingly down his arm. "It's my callsign," she explained and took a breath. "Apparently, I have eyes like an innocent baby deer."

"That's not why and you know it."

"Hangman!" She gave him an incredulous stare but eventually conceded. The truth was that "I, uh, -"

"You fucked her so hard that she couldn't walk properly for three days and it looked like that bit of the movie with the ice lake."

Comically, Bob's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he turned to look at his partner, who shrugged sheepishly in return. Y/N chuckled and covered her mouth, shaking her head at Hangman who was trying his hardest to suppress his laughter, and turned back to look at Bob, who's expression was now one of complete shock and disbelief.

His cheeks were a bright red colour and he opened and closed his mouth a couple times, struggling for a response to say. He cleared his throat once and managed to get out one simple word, almost choking on it the second it left his mouth, "Whaaaaat?"

The trio kept things light as they joked around and answered all of the questions Bob could currently think of. Although she'd never want to tell him and inflate his ego, Hangman was a god sent. Everytime it seemed as if Y/N was having trouble talking, Hangman managed to put everything together and fill in any gaps with so much charm and humour that Bob didn't notice Y/N's turmoil.

All too soon, the doctor came to check on Bob's vitals. Y/N and Jake stood back and let him do his job, trying to understand all the medical jargon but failing miserably. The entire time, Jake had his arm wrapped around Y/N's shoulders and was squeezing her into his side as they watched the doctor work. And although he'd no real basis to be, Bob couldn't help but feel weird about it. There was no denying how handsome Jake was.

This charismatic Ken doll was touching his wife, admittedly in a comforting and friendly way but nevertheless, there was something there that caused Bob's jaw to clench ever so slightly. Sure, he hadn't been aware she was his wife for all that long, yet his heart knew better than his brain did at this current moment. It was as if, just by simply seeing the way Hangman's arms held onto Y/N, he felt some of the insecurity from his previous consciousness. He felt protective, possessive and totally needy for his woman's attention.

Maybe because she was part of him. A part that he could never forget fully because she had his heart and that was the main driving force of his existence at this moment.

"I brought you a bag full of clothes and shit, do you want to go get it from the car? Use the ensuite?" Jake asked. "You shower and I'll watch over Baby On Board? Sound good?"

"I really stink, don't I?"

"Yeah. You do. Are you gonna shower or not?"

"Yeah, okay. Jesus Jake, won't let a lady wallow in her despair for a bit, will you?"

Jingling his keys as he got them out of his pocket, Jake hovered them before her face, waiting for her to take them and leave with a teasing smile. As soon as her hand came up, he pulled them further from her grasp. "Say 'Oh Hangman, you're my best friend. Thank you for being so kind to me.' Say those words."

Then she did. She did say those exact words and she said them sincerely because they were true. She meant every single one of them. Jake wasn't expecting the sincerity in her voice. His eyes widened in shock and he gave the keys over, trying to hide how touched he was as he choked out, "There we go, kid."

When the doctor finally left, Jake approached Bob's bedside again. "You got a lot of broken bones, dude. Did you break your dick?" Hangman teased and grinned when Bob gave him an exasperated look.

"Broke almost everything but my hands, my neck...and my dick."

"That's rough, man." He patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I think I'd be ruined if I broke my dick. That's the worst thing that can happen to a player, y'know?" Jake instinctively added, "Don't tell Roo that I said that."

Obviously, Bob's next question was, "Who's Roo?"

"Sorry! You're so much like you that I forgot about the whole memory thingamabob. Roo is Rooster, also known as the number one moustache wearer, handsome heartthrob, and all-around annoying boyfriend to this guy." Jake pointed to himself. "Real name: Bradley Winifred Bradshaw."

"Winifred?"

"Nah, I'm just messing with you. It's Peter, but you believed me, didn't you?"

The two men shared a laugh as they continued joking around. Although Bob was enjoying himself, he made a mental note of all the things Hangman had said to check the validity with Y/N later. And as if on cue, her laugh soon filled through the door frame, along with the sight of a new man walking by her side.

Hangman was speedy to announce, "Fanboy! Took you long enough!" He then turned his head to the side and winked at Bob, giving him a playful nudge and smirk. Jake leaned closer to Bob to loudly whisper, "Me, you and Mickey had a very erotic threesome back in twenty-nineteen. It was strangely tender."

"That's not true," Mickey called out playfully as he walked over towards his friends. He shot a glance towards Bob and smirked in amusement, teasingly adding, "I've been trying to get in your pants for so long now, but no, you're too busy in your loving relationship with your hot wife to see anyone else. It's tragic really."

Y/N slapped both Mickey and Jake on the back of the head as she passed them by. "Take it easy on him, would ya?" She muttered, shooting them an amused grin as she moved to fix Bob's hair. "How are you feeling, lovely?" Her warm touch and loving tone made Bob relax as his body slumped against the pillow. He smiled up at her.

"Better than when I woke."

Earlier, the doctor had been pleasantly surprised that he was mentally doing okay. Other than the loss of memory, he wasn't experiencing any lack of motor or social issues so far. Admittedly, he couldn't move most of his body because it was broken but the parts that were working were one hundred percent working.

"Do you mind if I take a shower and leave you with Hangman for five minutes longer?" Y/N whispered to her husband, holding onto his hand and playing with it lightly like she always did.

"Yeah, yeah. Go for it." Bob nodded, so Y/N stepped away from his bedside. Some part of him was waiting for something, some extra bit of affection that never came.

"I'll be so quick."

Mickey jumped at the chance to help Hangman mess with Bob as much as possible. Despite the situation, it was how the group showed their love and care to each other. No matter what, everyone tried their hardest to make the other person feel better through laughter. And that was exactly what he needed right now.

Off in the ensuite, Y/N sighed heavily and rested back against the doorframe as she closed her eyes. Everything was fine. Bob was alive, that's the main headline of the day. The surgery went well and his injuries weren't life threatening anymore. But even though everything was looking hopeful, Y/N still couldn't shake the fear that Bob might not recover completely. Her Bob, her husband may never remember the big moments of their life - their wedding, how they first met, their first date, when they bought a house together and all that - those might be gone forever and that's a hard truth to accept.

Robert Floyd, the man she loves, may never truly return to her.

Out there was the shell of him. A nice, kind, funny shell that she felt bad about naming him as such. She knew her thinking wasn't ideal and she couldn't stand herself for it. She hated herself for thinking of herself and her feelings right now. Shit, he literally fell out of the plane and got severe head trauma, and she was worrying about whether he'd ever remember that he won her a huge sloth teddy at the fair on their second date.

How self absorbed could a person be? She pushed off the door and got around to what she'd actually been planning to do - showering. It's a blessing that a shower is wet, you know? You can claim that all the moisture is due to the shower, rather than crying your eyes out while scrubbing a layer of grime off and feeling like a total loser who doesn't know how to function. However, the puffiness of a good crying sesh is rather noticeable. Jake hadn't brought her make up or eye cream or sliced cucumber, so it was rather obvious that she has shed tears recently as Y/N joined the boys.

As sweet as ever, Bob was quick to ask if she was okay and when her reply didn't convince him in the slightest, he announced, "I'm getting really tired. Do you guys mind if..." His voice trailed off suggestively. Fanboy and Hangman got the hint instantly and muttered about going to check on Phoenix.

"Y/N?" He asked softly, watching as she slowly lowered herself onto the chair by his bedside.

"Sorry, sorry, did you want me to go too? I'll just...leave."

Quickly, she stood up, ready to walk past him and give him the peace and quiet he so needed.

"No, stay. Please."

She froze where she was, her body slowly turning around to face him. He stared intensely at her, eyes burning through her with every second until she could feel herself breaking. She took a few tentative steps back towards the chair beside his bed, her hand coming to rest on the edge of the mattress as she tried to keep herself grounded, her heart pounding and the need to hide somewhere far, far away appearing in an instant.

Bob watched her warily, waiting for her reaction as he saw the sudden change in her demeanour. He looked down at her shaking hand resting atop the mattress and gently inched his fingers closer to hers until his pinkie finger touched hers.

"I'm on so many drugs right now," he blurted out suddenly. And thanks to the abruptness of that statement, she let out a chuckle which quickly turned into full on laughter that he joined in on. After that, their laughs slowly faded away, leaving them staring into each other's eyes as the silence settled between them. Neither of them uttered a word.

They simply held each other's gaze, taking in their individual features, their eyes searching for something within. "Can you tell me about how we met? How we got together?" Bob asked, yet his request seemed to be met with reluctance, as her smile disappeared from her face and her eyes shot to the floor for a brief moment before returning to his own once again. "Please?"

It's not that she didn't want to tell him how they met. The story wasn't outlandish or crude or anything bad. It's just a little weird to have to tell your husband something he was there for. "Yeah, of course." Y/N spoke softly as she squeezed her husband's hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles over the back of it. "The Academy holds summer school for juniors who are thinking of going there once they graduate..."

Next Chapter: Like Beavers

#bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bob floyd

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