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kelltonic · 2 days ago

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Admiration☆彡

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drunkenness/alcohol!! Other than that all fluff. Canon-typical asshole Hangman. established relationship and mentions of introverted girlfriend - no use of y/n

Description: While drinking at the Hard Deck with his fellow daggers, Fanboy finally gets to prove the origins of his callsigns through his drunken ramblings about his (civilian) girlfriend.

WC: 1,580

A/N: My first time posting fanfiction on this account!! Glad it’s dedicated to my underrated husband <33 - on that note, I did write this instead of studying (I’m mid exams) as a form of procrastination, and honestly a de-stressing exercise type thing lmao

“Earth to Garcia?” Mickey hears as he slowly raises his head from his phone, awaiting a text from his girlfriend after the string of ‘I miss you’ and ‘you won’t believe what Reuben just said’ messages.

“Huh? Did you say something?” Fanboy responds, unsure of who grabbed his attention.

“Man, what’s even so interesting on your phone? Come on! Live in the moment!” Javy disappointedly scolded him, gaining some nods and murmurs of agreement. Majority of the squadron were sitting in a spacious booth, various alcoholic drinks accompanying them. Fanboy was squished in between Payback and Hangman while sitting across from Phoenix, Bob and Coyote while Fritz and Rooster sat at the end in seperate chairs.

“Sorry I find my girlfriend more interesting than you guys.” Fanboy scoffed sarcastically.

“Really? Doesn’t seem like she’s responding anytime soon.” Hangman joked with that bothersome southern drawl, peering over to see Fanboy’s one sided conversation. He didn’t blame you, it was late. Really late. The daggers were given a day off and decided to celebrate, not having to worry about getting up early - despite the fact majority probably would anyways.

“She’s probably just asleep, she has exams.” Fanboy defended, he didn’t want the others to get the wrong idea, that he was needy or anything. Though, it didn’t really help. But he wasn’t lying, you were mid exam week in college and were conditioning yourself to a better sleep schedule, he would probably tell you to go to sleep if you did ever respond.

“Mhm… I’m starting to think she’s been made up.” Hangman mocked, no matter how much alcohol he has - he will always find a way to push someone’s buttons. If anything, the alcohol made him more irritating. But before Fanboy could interject, he was saved by his best friend.

“Trust me, she’s real.” Payback groaned. Fanboy wasn’t surprised that he backed him up, or that he seemed so annoyed about it. Reuben had nothing against you, to be honest, he hadn’t even met you in person. But, he did have the unfortunate role of being the closest to Mickey in every outburst he had when he was away from you for too long and needed to scroll through all your shared memories. Reuben had lost count of how many times Mickey showed him his favourite photo of you two right before he got called to Top Gun.

“Really? I need proof or I’m never believing you.” Hangman emphasised, more likely bored than actually unbelieving. Mickey was attractive, both physically and personality-wise, it’s no shocker he’s dating someone. But when your foundation is being a dickhead, and you add alcohol and boredom to the equation, you need someone to annoy. Fanboy was just the easiest target for Hangman given the situation.

“Haha, no chance.” Fanboy swiftly replied. He absolutely loved showing people photos of you. Displaying you with pride, like a toddler showing off their artwork. But when it came to people in the military, specifically other men in the military, he always felt icky. After hearing too much nasty locker room talk, he really only described you and your shared experiences, keeping away from physical depictions and photos. The only exceptions were guys he really trusted, like Reuben. And it’s not even that he doesn’t trust Jake, he just doesn’t want to risk you getting involved in his constant teasing.

“Come on, you always talk about her - just one photo!” Phoenix chimed in, genuinely curious. Fanboy took a second, he was always easy to persuade when he was drunk. But, he stuck to his values and faced his phone away from Jake while scrolling through his favourites album.

“Seriously?” Hangman bluntly groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “I swear I wont actually say anything weird.” Hangman pleaded, that signature smile spread across his slightly flushed cheeks.

“No shot.” Mickey responded, clicking on one of his favourites of you. You were in a beautiful black dress with some light makeup, it was the one time he ever successfully persuaded you to go to a big party. You were smiling widely, holding onto Mickey while both of you were laughing your asses off. It was a candid one of your mutual friends took while you were both drunk out of your minds. Your hair was slightly tucked behind your ear, revealing an earplug. You were never good with loud noises or bustling groups, so Mickey bought you earplugs to colour match your jewellery. You seemed so happy, and Mickey couldn’t have been more relieved. He was terrified that he would finally get you to go out to a big party and you would hate it, so he sought to make you as comfortable as possible in the situation.

He proudly flipped his phone towards the other side of the booth, presenting you to Phoenix, Bob and Coyote while Rooster and Fritz peeked over. Just about everyone was curious at this point, they had always gotten bits and pieces of his ranting about you but never actually seen the face that matches the admiration.

“Aww!! She’s so pretty.” Bob reacted softly, trying not to overstep but also wanting to validate Fanboy.

“The dress is stunning on her.” Phoenix raved with an approving smile to Fanboy.

“I know, everything’s stunning on her.” He sighed thoughtfully. Despite the fact you were dating, he was still acting like a schoolgirl yearning over her celebrity crush. The others could only laugh at this, while Hangman just drank from his beer. He doesn’t usually feel left out due to his very extroverted and dominating personality, but this was an exception.

“Well that explains a lot.” Rooster chuckled.

“Huh?” Fanboy was seemingly brought out of his trance, tilting his head at Rooster’s comment.

“Your callsign, always wondered what warranted it.” Rooster elaborated, gaining a group-wide laugh. It was so true, he was full on fanboying over you.

His slight embarrassment to his exposure was quickly taken to a halt when his phone buzzed while Phoenix was holding his phone, admiring the photo.

“Mickey baby, you drinking responsibly or just drinking?” You texted. You couldn’t help but laugh at the seemingly millions of messages you had gotten while locked in studying - cramming - for your next exam in… about 7 hours.

Mickey chuckled at your message the moment he snatched his phone back. But, his remaining responsibility took control as he replied.

“You should be sleeping! I love youuuuuuuuuu1!1!1!! go to sleep!” He typed out, his heart sad that he knows he can’t keep you up. But, his last remaining brain cells were aware that you needed to sleep for your big exam in the morning.

“No fair, you texted me first.” You groaned, knowing he was right.

“Yeahhh but like…. I don’t have work in the morning.” He sighed, he was so excited for your exams to be over so he could endlessly bug you without feeling guilty about taking up your time.

“What’s going on now?” Hangman interjected, finally trying to weasel his way back into the conversation.

“I’m telling her to go to sleep, I wasn’t lying - she’s got exams.” Fanboy whined, he was desperate to talk to you - he was always extra clingy when drunk.

“Ooh that reminds me of this other photo.” He quickly switched up, you stopped replying so he could tell you got the message and (hopefully) went to sleep rather than uselessly cramming.

“Oh lord not again.” Reuben moaned, falling back into the seat while he had to sit through yet another rant about you.

“I took this one after the last one when we were in bed..” Mickey was swiftly cut off by some disapproving noises.

“No, no, not like that, it’s nothing sexual - it’s cute!” Mickey reassured, not surprised that his friends’ minds immediately went there.

He pulled up a photo of him lying on your chest while you were both pressed together on your sides, lipstick marks all over his face. He had about a dozen kisses on his face printed from your lipstick, and he couldn’t have been happier. He and you were both still clearly drunk - only the bottom half of your face in frame. Your hair was dangling onto Mickey while he was tucked just below your chin, leaning into your chest. Your smile was just in frame, while his was front and centre. He loved the photo not only for its contents, but also the fact that it was one of your favourites. Mickey explained to his friends the backstory, and how you never really liked seeing or taking photos of yourself. So the fact that you were only partially in frame yet your presence was one of the most significant aspects, it was perfect.

“Okay, okay, we get it - you’re an absolute fanboy. Can we talk about something else now?” Hangman complained, still excluded from the presentation.

“This is what you get for being such an asshole and taking advantage of any personal thing we tell you, Bagman.” Phoenix responded, utilising her daily humbling moment. With a few ‘karma’ and ‘deserved’ comments flying around alongside the comfortable laughter, Mickey couldn’t help but feel so at home. He missed you more than anything, and he couldn’t wait to introduce you to his friends.

“Good night baby ❤️ ❤️” you finally texted back.

“Were you studying just then??”

“I had to finish up!!”

“Yeah? Well good night sweetheart, sleep well ❤️” he replied, shaking his head with a small chuckle.

Began: 1:00am 21st of June

Finished: 2:30am 21st of June

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miniwheat77 · 13 hours ago

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Stalker. Pt. 2 (Slasher!Ghost x Reader.)

!nsfw, pregnancy, violence, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, some kind of Stockholm syndrome I guess, knife play, NO MINORS!

“How is the mission coming along Simon?” Captain Price asks. “Stagnant there for a while.” John places his paperwork and coffee cup down at the table Simon sits at. “It’s fine, was just having trouble finding a couple. I actually had a question about one of them.” He asks.

“What is it?”

“This address on this one here, it says a man’s name and has a man’s picture. But when I got inside, a girl lives there. Seems to be alone.” Captain Price grasps the paper and takes a look at it. “Must have moved, I’ll take it and double check for you. I’m glad you noticed before you… you know.” He laughs. “The rest have all been pretty easy?”

“Yes sir.”

“I feel bad, you’re terrorizing this town.” Captain Price laughs. “If only they knew the kind’ve people living in it.” He scoffs.

“Yeah. Ignorance is bliss they say. Terrorists sleeping and renting houses right under their nose, planning an attack. They don’t even know it and I’m the bad guy.” He laughs. “You see they call me Ghost?” He smirks. “Yeah, thought that was funny.”

Simon doesn’t let Price in on his endeavors, or why he’s been stagnant for 5 months. He was a little distracted by you. He feels bad. How he’s belittled you and talked down on you.

‘Your brain should be cut out and studied.’

Sure, Ghost was a killer and you didn’t know that it was actually Terrorists he’d been killing. But you didn’t need to know that to let him do what he’s done to you, you really thought he was some kind of murderer and he’s been toying with you a while. He’s glad he studied you before he killed you. That one might’ve gotten him into a little bit of trouble.

Even if he was caught, he’d be released because of Captain Price.

It had been weeks since he’d last gone to see you. He wanted to give you time to get used to him not being around, since he’d needed to finish his killings. He’d just finished his last one up about a week ago. The town could settle now, he’d leave it alone. Before he focused on other missions, he wanted to see you one last time.

He waits until nightfall again, peeking through your window before he goes in again.

When he gets to your window though, it’s not what he’s expecting to see. Usually you’d be reading or watching something. Even playing on your phone. But instead, he sees you wiping your red and puffy eyes as you sit on the edge of your bed. You’ve got fresh hot tears spilling from your eyes. Something was wrong.

You rub at your sore wrists, and he sees a glimpse of what looks like bruises. Telltale signs of abuse, and he knows exactly what to look for. He glances to your throat and sees the fingerprint bruises. Someone had attacked you. Who was it?

He makes his way around the outside of your house, raising up the still unlocked window. He climbs through with ease and marches straight back to your room. When he pushes the door open, he startles you. You’d been crying too hard to hear him come in.

You gasp, standing up quick. You cover yourself in a weird way, as if you’re protecting something. “P-please- I’m not-“ you back away.

“Who did it?” His chest rises and falls quickly. You wipe your eyes. “What?” He looks furious just from his stance. He steps toward you, his eyes are dark. He’s scary when he’s like this. You flinch.

“Let me see.” He steps forward even more. You’re hesitant as he closes the distance in just a few steps. Raising your hands to take a look at them. He pushes your sleeves up. The bruises are darker than he thought. He pushes your hair back looking at your neck. “Who?” He tilts your head to the side to get a good look.

You look stunned. “My boss.” You mumble. “What on earth did he think gave him a reason to place his hands on you like this?” He asks. You swallow hard. Eyes welling up with tears. “I-I’m…” you clench your eyes shut. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen.

He remembers the last thing he’d said to you. You didn’t know that he wasn’t really that bad of a guy, you were scared. He shouldn’t have said it.

He sighs. “Okay, but… why did he hurt you?”

“I’ve spoken with a doctor and he said that I’m a high risk pregnancy and I couldn’t work too much longer. I went to let my boss know and he.. he got angry. Called me a slut and.. said that I was stupid to get knocked up.” You mumble. “When I argued back he grabbed me by my throat and.. I tried to get away and he wouldn’t let my wrists go.” You hesitate.

Your brain is fried because the only thought is, you’ve been sleeping with a murderer and this is where you draw the line? This of all things is what you’re scared of?

Ghost sighs. “Why are you being nice to me?” You ask. He grasps his mask, tugging it over his head and backing you into the bed. “Because.. I’m not who you think I am.” He mumbles. “What?”

“Just.. sit down.” He mumbles. He takes your wrists, trying to massage them to relieve them. He’s sure they have to hurt. “I’m Lieutenant Simon Riley.” He mumbles. “I’m apart of the British Special forces, I operate in task force 141, I report to Captain Jonathan Price.” He pauses. “They call me a killer, but these people here that I am killing, they are terrorists working in an undercover operation. I have a paper here.” He draws it out of his vest and unfolds it. He passes it to you. Sure enough. It says everything he needs to know. It’s got a picture of the man, what his fake name is, what he goes by, what his actual name is, where he lives. It’s got everything on it. “The reason I came across you is because of this paper, the address on it. It’s wrong. When I saw you, I thought it was odd. So I watched you for a while and then… you left that book.”

You can’t believe this.

How can this be true? How could you have let this happen?

“I was stumped so I asked my Captain and he confirmed it. It’s the house across the street. My last target.”

“Last week..” you mumble. The last killing, right next door. “Yes. I have all of that information in writing if you need it. I swear I’m telling the truth.” He breathes. “I believe you.” You mumble. “But I wish you’d have come clean about.. 2 months ago.” You mumble. “Hm?”

“When you scared me to death by saying not to take anything after you came inside me, Simon.” He laughs. Seeing a smile raise to your lips. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. You just.. I don’t know. You got into my head. You made me lose every single bit of control."

“Believe me, you got into mine too.” You laugh.

“I’m sorry. I guess we.. got a little carried away.” He smiles. “Guess so..”

“I feel bad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Uh.. tomorrow. We’re gonna go see your boss.” He stands up, standing in front of you with his arms crossed. You look up at him. “What?”

“That fucker put his hands on you and you’re carrying my baby.” You blush. Looking down. It feels weird to hear that from him. How could he not be the killer you thought he was? And why does it make you feel even better about having had sex with him in the first place?

“I think I’d rather just let it go..” you mumble. “Sorry dear, not happening.” He mumbles.

He paces, back and fourth. “Why are you a high risk pregnancy?” He asks. You swallow hard.

“Because uh…” you look down, forgetting that you had left this part out. “There’s.. more than one baby.”

“What!”

You snort, laughing. “Had the same reaction in the doctor’s office.” You mumble. He’s stunned.

He wipes his face in frustration. “Okay, alright. Nothing to worry about. I’m probably stressing you out which isn’t good. Okay.” He sits down next to you. Turning your face toward his. “Are you okay?” He asks. You nod your head. “Good.. good.”

“Are YOU okay?” You giggle. He nods. “Yeah.. just not how I expected this to go.” He laughs. “Me too.”

“I’ll leave you alone though, I can pick you up and we can go to the coffee shop tomorrow.” He nods. He goes for the door but you stand up. “Wait-“ he freezes. He turns to look at you. “You.. you can stay. If you want.” He looks at you. You’re toying with the sleeves of your shirt. It’s clearly large on you for some reason. “Are you sure?” He asks. You nod your head. “Okay.”

“We.. kind’ve have a lot to catch up on. You know.. since we’re going to be parents.” You blush. Seeing a smile tug at his lips. “Sounds good to me.” He laughs. “You got any water? Feel like I’m about to pass out.” He mumbles, wiping his face. “Yeah, come on.” You walk past him to get to your kitchen and he follows after you. “It’s a lot to take in.. believe me I had an even worse reaction at the doctor’s office.” You mumble. You pass him a bottle of water and he takes a drink, sitting at your table. You slide a chair out and sit down too. “Awfully big shirt for you.” He laughs. “Yeah but.. it’s comfortable and all my other clothes are kinda tight around my stomach now.” You blush. “Only gets worse from here. I mean.. twins..” he trails off.

“Er… Triplets.”

He chokes on the water, coughing for a second. “Are you serious?!”

You nod your head nervously. If he were a murderer he’d want you dead.

“My god.. what kind of woman are you? I came in you one time.” He laughs. “I.. guess a very fertile one.. I don’t know.” You blush. “Do you have any kids?” He asks.

“No. First time..” you look down. He can tell you’re nervous. “To be honest I thought I was going to end up doing this alone so.. I don’t know.” You mumble. He nods his head. “You’ll be alright. Promise.”

Later that night, when you’ve fallen asleep, he steps outside for a moment. He draws out his phone, dialing his Captains number.

“Simon? Where are you?”

“I’m out for the night, but I need to call in a favor.” Simon brings a cigarette up to his lips. “What is it?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow, just have the task force meet me at the Coffee Shop Johnny likes to go to. Round 10.” He mumbles. “Nothing too crazy I imagine?”

“Guess you can be the judge of that when I show you tomorrow.” He takes another drag of his Cigarette.

“Alright Simon. We’ll be there.”

He finishes his smoke and heads back in for the night.

The following morning when the both of you are dressed and ready, you show up to the Coffee Shop. You look cute. You’ve got a shirt on but it is a little tight around your tummy. You can’t completely tell that you’re pregnant but too much longer and you definitely will be. You see three men standing outside, wearing full Military uniforms and that’s when you get nervous. Simon pulls into the parking lot, the shop is about to open and no one is inside except your boss. It would typically be you opening, but he’d fired you. “What’s going on Simon? Oh- Hi.” Captain Price smiles as you follow behind him. He’s obviously confused.

“Hi.” You mumble shyly.

“This is Y/N.” Everyone is confused. “Wait- you’re the barista here, right?” Johnny asks. “Used to be.. yeah. Until yesterday.” You mumble. Simon sighs. “To make a long story short, she’s Pregnant and the doctor said she can’t work as much. So she came in to tell her boss, -the guy in there now- and he put his hands on her.”

“What?”

“Y/N. Show em.” You swallow nervously. Rolling your sleeves up slightly. The bruises are even worse today. “Her throat too.” He mumbles. He pushes your hair to the side and they can see the handprint.

“Can I ask how this involves us?” Captain Price asks.

Ghost blinks a couple of times, a smile on his face the group has never seen before. “Who d’ya think got her pregnant?”

He gets wide eyes and the others smile back at him. “Easy enough, let’s go boys.” Captain Price leads the way. “Congratulations by the way, Simon. And job well done.” Captain Price mumbles. “This must be the mix up I take it.” He smiles. Glancing at you. You follow between the group. “Mhm. How’d you know?”

“A hunch. Not gonna ask how you went from a stranger in her house to getting her pregnant though.” He chuckles, opening up the door for everyone. You file into the coffee shop. “We’re not open yet!” You hear him yell. “Not gonna be, either.” Simon mumbles, switching the latch on the door. “That’s alright, just had a question.” He calls, walking up to the counter. He appears from a room in the back and when he sees you, his blood clearly runs cold as his face drops. “There we go, that’s the look I was hoping for.” Gaz smiles. “Heard you like to put your hands on girls.” Soap steps forward. “S-she said she didn’t know who the dad was!”

“No I didn’t. I said it was none of your business.” You narrow your eyes. “Well.. you’re lookin at him.” Simon smiles. “Or uh.. sorry.” He corrects himself.

He spins around for a second, sliding the skull mask on and turns back to him. “Now you are.” The man’s eyes widen before rolling back into his skull, he falls over backward. Out cold. They didn't even have to do anything with him.

Simon laughs. “Gaz. A hand?” Captain Price rounds the counter and grasps his feet, Gaz makes his way around and lifts him by his arms. They drag him into the office in the back. Soap moves behind the bar, looking over the coffee machines. “Never been behind the counter before.” He mumbles. “Sucks that you won’t work here anymore. You make the best coffee of all of the baristas.” Soap crosses his arms. “Yeah.. I’ve seen you like every morning for over a year.” You smile. “Yeah. We’re on base here, but I’m sure you know that. Since yknow.. you two are well acquainted.” He winks, seeing your cheeks light on fire. “How do you work this thing anyways?” He asks. You smile, stepping behind the counter.

“I can show you.”

Johnny stands beside you, watching your hands as you make the first coffee, he’s really confused at first but once he gets the hang of it, multiple cups of coffee and a few burns later, he’s made it perfect. Or close enough.

“So.. when’s the baby due?” Johnny asks. Gaz and Captain Price are drinking their own coffee’s. “I’m measuring 9 weeks right now, so.. they’ll be here.. I don’t know. Another 30 weeks or so unless the babies come early. Give or take.” You shrug.

“I’m sorry.. did you say they?” Gaz asks. You nod your head. “My last visit they saw 3 babies.”

Johnny chokes on his hot coffee, coughing violently as he inhales it instead of the gasp he’d tried to take in. “Three?!” You blush. “Yeah.”

“Wow. That’s crazy. You guys, wow… three?” Johnny mumbles. Everyone laughs as he stumbles over his words. “Yeah. Took me a little off guard too.” You mumble. “Ah- worst part’ll be the birth. The rest is bittersweet.” Captain Price smiles. “Kids are a blessing, like best friends that have no choice but to go everywhere and do everything with you.” He chuckles. You nod your head. “That’s true.”

———

Your nerves are completely shot as you walk into the doctor’s office. It was your next appointment a few weeks later and you were here alone. The only downside to having no family around and barely knowing your kids’ dad. But you take it with a grain of salt and push the door open. “Hey- wait!”

You turn around, seeing Simon coming through the door. “Simon? What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t want you here alone.”

“You said you had to work.” You mumble. “But I got it off, don’t worry about it. Cmon.”

He leads you up to the front desk and you check in. After waiting a while they finally call you back and get you ready for your ultrasound. Simon watches the screen as she searches for your babies. You’re looking at it too.

“There we go… there’s one..” she hovers it over for a second, getting a good look at the first baby. “And.. I only see two.” She hovers over the second baby, only seeing two sacs. You nod your head. “Wow.” Simon mumbles. “It’s pretty common, we call it vanishing twin syndrome.” She smiles sympathetically. Ghost finally takes a seat, he was anxious coming in. He seems to relax as she shows him his babies. It’s so hard for him to believe that you’re pregnant and that they’re his. “Seem to be growing pretty fast. Might be some big babies.” She smiles. You smile, you’re nervous.

When you’re leaving, you have the sonogram in your hands. “Y/N, just out of curiousity. How did you get here?” He asks. You hold back a smile. “I.. I walked.”

“Jesus Christ. Get in the truck.” He mumbles. You smile, circling to the passenger side. You freeze when you look at just how high it is off the ground. “Uh.. I don’t think I’m going to be able to-“ a gasp leaves your lips when Simon lifts you up, setting you down on the seat. “Wasn’t going to make you climb up yourself, watch your feet.” He says, slamming the door. He could be such a gentleman. Such a vast difference to who he was to you just a few weeks ago.

When you get to your house, he helps you down and walks you inside. You of course invite him in. “You doing okay?” He asks. “Yeah.. I just wish this was.. under different conditions.” You mumble. “What do you mean?”

“I.. wish we were together. Like.. before and after kids you know. Stable? That we didn’t meet because of.. odd circumstances.” You blush. He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t matter how we met. Nobody has to know about that but us.” He chuckles. “Yeah I guess so..” you mumble. “Come on, let’s get you off your feet.” He helps you off of the couch, guiding you back into your bedroom. You were showing quite a bit more now. Ghost felt more protective than ever. “You seem stressed about something.” He mumbles. Helping you take your shoes off. “I am.” You sigh, resting on your hands. “What is it?”

“I live alone, I have 2 babies on the way, and have no job. I just don’t know what to do.” You mumble. He shakes his head. “That’s not your job to worry about.”

“If I don’t worry about it, I’ll lose my house Simon.” You sigh.

“Lay back.” He mumbles. He pushes you further up the bed and takes your foot into his hands, massaging at the skin. “You’re a real smart girl, so I need you to understand something.” He mumbles. Hearing a sigh leave your lips as he runs his thumbs over the center of your foot. “There is no way in hell I’d let that happen to you. I will take care of you, it is not your job to worry about any of that.”

“Simon-“

“Y/N.” He’s stern. Hearing another sigh leave your lips as he squeezes your heel. “Your job is to stay healthy and keep those babies baking. My job is to make sure you’re safe. Understand?” You smile. Groaning out when he switches to your other foot.

“Yes I understand.”

“Great. Good…” he trails off. “And uh.. for some reason, massaging your feet made me hard.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Simon!”

He laughs, pressing your foot against his jeans where you can feel him through them. “Fuck.. I can’t help myself, it’s your fault.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m gross and pregnant, how can it be my fault?”

He shakes his head. “You’re not gross. You’re beautiful.” He runs his hand up your stomach, feeling you. His hands on you for the first time in months.

“And I miss touching you.” He breathes. He draws his fingertips across your skin, hearing your breathing pick up as he does.

It’s odd, feeling him touch you so gently.

When you know exactly what he’s capable of.

Your brain flashes back to him, how rough he was. His hands on you, around your throat. Tugging your hair, forcing your head back so he could kiss you. The way he forced you to your knees. His touch was unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Like a drug you’ll never get enough of no matter how much you take. He watches you practically fall apart at his touch. Knowing this right here is exactly what brought the both of you together. You were trusting. Luckily it was Simon. He grasps your ankles, moving them apart and forcing himself between them. Moving himself to hover over the top of you.

“Simon..” you pant, feeling him press his erection into you. Grinding himself against you.

“Yeah baby I know.” He breathes. “I know what you need.” His voice is low and intimidating. He presses his hand to your throat. Gripping tight but not cutting your airways. “You’re so pretty.” He breathes, pressing a kiss to your chest. He gets his hand wedged between your pants, sliding it further down your front. His thick callused fingers meet with your sopping wet opening and you melt right into his touch. He brushes the pad of his middle finger gently over your clit, seeing your lips part slightly as a mewl leaves your lips. He kisses along your jaw and cheek, lowering himself slightly as he kisses your neck. Watching you fall further and further into the black hole that is Simon Riley. He bites gently at your neck, sucking at the skin until he can see the blood surface. He doesn’t care about leaving marks on you.

You clutch hard at your sheets, moaning out as he circles over your clit. “Oh fuck..” you pant. “Deep breath, doing so good.” He growls, nudging your face with his nose slightly. Simon was a rough lover.

He slides his middle finger lower than your clit, pressing it at your entrance. He nudges it past your opening, feeling you go stiff as he slides it into you. “Oh you’re so wet..” he breathes. Sitting up slightly as he draws them away, adding another digit. He thrusts them into you, curling them up. Drawing you deeper and deeper.

You can’t keep your composure. Moaning out and clawing at the sheets. Whatever it was about him. The way your body reacted to him in such a way.

The pleasure is almost blinding until he abruptly draws his finger back, watching you whine at the loss. He can’t help but chuckle, a subtle way to taunt you. He helps you get your pants off, undressing himself as he moves closer. You see him smile. A mischievous thought running through his head. You can tell. “What?”

“Nothing. Just had an idea.” He draws away for a second. He reaches down into his jeans, drawing a piece of fabric from the pocket. He slides the familiar mask over his face and you roll your eyes. “Simon-“

“Ah.” He pinches your nipple slightly, hearing you gasp. You rub your hand over the sore nub. “Call me Ghost baby. Just this once, for old times sake. Don’t disobey me.” He breathes. You hear a click, feeling the cold steel pressed against your throat. That same thrill returns, a pit settles deep in your stomach. You freeze, feeling him move between your legs again. His jeans are unzipped and unbuttoned and his toned stomach is bare. He moves closer, guiding his cock to your entrance. He notches the tip right at your opening and presses the knife into your skin, hearing you whimper. “Whose pussy is this?” He asks.

“I-it’s yours Simon.” You swallow hard. He presses it against you harder, seeing you wince. “What was that?”

“It’s yours Ghost!” He thrusts into you, filling you to the hilt. You cry out, clenching your eyes shut. “There’s my good girl.” He takes the knife back, closing the blade and tucking it back into his pocket.

He draws his hips back, rubbing his hands down your thighs gently as he thrusts back into you. He keeps up a steady, bruising pace. He fucks into you until your legs shake, if you couldn’t keep your composure earlier, you really can’t now. Ghosts hands shake as he holds back. He wants to be even more rough but he can’t, not while his babies are inside you. “You’re sick, you know that?” He whispers. Taunting you further because he knows it gets you off. He’s going to use it against you for the rest of the time you’ll spend together.

“You let me fuck you when you thought I was a murderer. Fuck-“ he hisses, gritting his teeth. “You wanted it. Baited me. Lured me into this sweet pussy. And I took the bait.” He taunts. He grasps a handful of your hair, forcing your head back into the pillow, you look deep into his eyes. A small smile creeps onto your lips. “You took the bait, but you’re the one who came inside me.”

He shakes his head, a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah. And if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do it again.”

He raises your thigh up just slightly. Getting a better angle. He slows his thrusts, kissing your foot as he fucks into you. He reaches even deeper inside of you, watching you squirm as stimulates the most sensitive parts of you. Your hands clutch hard at the sheets and he’s pushing you closer and closer to your high. You want it so bad. He reaches between the two of you, tugging his pants down even further. He brings his thumb up to his mouth, pressing it on his tongue before bringing it down to your clit. He runs circles over the nub and watches you unravel, completely at his mercy. “You’re such a good girl for me.” He grunts. His balls tighten, he’s getting close.

“Oh fuck.” His moan is higher pitched than usual, he’s right on the edge. You pulse hard around him, your eyes screwed shut as moans leave your lips in a chain. You don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. He keeps rubbing circles over your clit. You’re right there.

You let out a mewl and he can feel the hard throb of your pussy around him as you cum. His eyes widen at the intensity of it. He cries out, hips stuttering as he reaches his own orgasm. His cock throbs inside of you. The stimulation is almost too much but your bodies work together. Like they were made for each other.

His thrusts finally slow to a halt and he sighs. He slides his dick out of you with a grunt and lays next to you. Pulling you into him. You say nothing as you come down from your orgasms. The reality of what just happened hitting you. What did this mean for you and Simon? He doesn’t have to look at you to know your mind is moving at a mile a minute. He pinches your chin and makes you look at him. He tugs his mask off and smiles. “We’re going to figure this out. For now? You just get some rest.” You roll your eyes. “What are we going to do?” You mumble. “Well. We’ve got two babies on the way and you live in a one bedroom rental.” You turn to look at him. “Do you want to be with me, Y/N?” He asks. You hadn’t really put too much thought into it.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, Simon.” He smiles. “I think we should try.” You nod your head. “So.. we’ll go house hunting. Find a three bedroom. I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He sits up. “That you have to take care of me.” You sigh. “Y/N, I want to take care of you. I like you, alright? And this will work out. You can be my pretty girlfriend, pregnant with my kids. In time, we can get married and we’ll be alright.” He smiles. You laugh. “Seems like you’ve got a whole plan.”

“Yep. Now we just have to let it happen.”

———

“Pass me that paint brush?”

Johnny looks around for it, picking it up. When he finally looks up from what he’s doing, his eyes widen. “What on earth are you doing!”

“Uh.. painting?”

“Get your ass down from there, are you trying to get us killed?” He grasps your hand, guiding you down the ladder. You’re really pregnant.

“Johnny-“

“I’ve got it. You go sit down, lass. Climbing a ladder pregnant.” He mumbles it under his breath. As he’s climbing up, he misses a step and slides down, going backward. The bucket of paint is right there and you cover your mouth, eyes wide. You watch him land straight on his back, clutching his side. He’s barely missed the paint. “Are you okay?” You rush to him.

“Ah- I’m fine. Better me than you.” He groans. The door opens and the other 3 come inside. Gaz is carrying pizza and the other two are carrying other stuff. “The hell happened?”

You help Johnny to his feet. “See? That’s why I didn’t want you up there, Steamin’ Jesus.” He groans. He pushes passed everyone, going into the kitchen. He needed a beer. “I was on the ladder and he made me get down and than.. he misses a step.” You laugh quietly. “Yeah, Johnny shouldn’t be trusted on ladders either.” Gaz laughs. “How’s it coming along?”

“It’s great.” You smile. The entire house is taped off and the furniture is covered with old sheets. “Should be looking good in no time.” You smile.

After eating and finishing the painting, everyone goes home except for you and Simon. You’re already home. “Nursery should be done soon.” You mumble. “Yeah, It’s coming along pretty good.” He rests his hand on your stomach as you lay next to him. Something he’s done your entire pregnancy. His eyes are barely open. “Yeah it is.”

“I love you Y/N.”

You can’t help but go stiff as he says it.

“I love you too Simon.” You brush his hair back.

The ghost who once terrorized this town now lives in it, with a family of his own.

Funny how things change.

#ghost fanfiction #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader

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blank-potato · 1 month ago

Text

Loving You Is Easy

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

“What are these for?” you ask, looking up at him with a raised brow. “You. I, um… figured they’d help you feel better,” Bob says, his voice dipping awkwardly near the end like he already regrets how earnest it sounds. You blink at him, eyes flicking between his face and the pancakes. Then a smile spreads across your face. Cute, and he makes pancakes? You’d struck gold. “Thanks… man!” you say, then pause, realisation dawning mid-sentence. You don’t even know the name of the very attractive guy standing in front of you. You laugh a little, embarrassed. “What’s your name?” “Bob.” “Bob,” You repeat, the smile on your face growing just that little bit more if that was even possible, “I like Bob.” Or You and Bob are indifferent to each other, never seeming to mesh. But when you lose your memory, something new blooms between the two of you.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, no smut, amnesia/memory loss, abandonment issues, pancakes may as well be a main character, hurt and some comfort?, acquaintances to lovers?

WC: 9.6K

A/N: Title from Easy by Mac Ayers. Also, the response to my last Bob fic was absolutely insane, thank you! Hope you enjoy this one, might write a part 2 later (I did, link below)

Part 2

***

Bob doesn’t particularly like you.

It’s not like he hated you or anything; the two of you just didn’t connect.

Conversations were always awkward and stilted, full of long silences and forced small talk. You’d crack a joke, and he’d give you a tight smile. He’d ask a question, and you’d give a clipped answer, unsure of his tone or where you stood.

It wasn’t animosity. It was worse: indifference with a touch of tension. Or maybe it was just that sometimes people don’t mesh, no matter how hard they try. So both of you stopped trying. You’d walk into the gym and see him already there, towel slung over his shoulder, sweat dampening his shirt.

He’d glance up. “No, no, you can stay. I was just leaving.” Even if he wasn’t actually done with his workout.

“Okay…” you’d reply, pretending not to feel the sting.

Or one time, you both ended up in the kitchen at 2 a.m., bleary-eyed and looking for snacks.

You froze. So did he.

“I’ll just—”

“No, it’s fine. I just needed water,” You interrupted.

You both moved around each other like magnets flipped the wrong way, close but never touching, repelling, retreating.

It was easier this way.

One day, you're on a mission and get injured after a strange encounter with an absurdly eccentric villain. He hit you with some mysterious ray that blasted you through a wall and left you unconscious. The whole team was worried about you… including Bob.

Sure, the two of you were awkward, distant, neither of you quite knowing how to be around the other anymore, but that didn’t change the fact that he still cared.

So they brought you back to the Tower and did everything they could. Monitors, scans, and even a few calls to some old contacts who specialised in the weird and unexplainable.

As you lay still, unmoving, they waited. They took shifts, refusing to let you wake up alone, just in case.

Bob stayed longer than anyone. Even when it wasn’t his shift, he lingered outside your room. Because no matter how weird or strained things had become, he wanted you to wake up.

It takes a few days, but you wake up, your eyes blinking rapidly as you adjust to the light. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingers faintly in the air, and your body feels achy, like you’ve been asleep for a century.

And then you see him.

A random, handsome man is slumped over in the chair next to your bed. His head is tilted forward slightly, chin tucked, a book loose in one hand as he dozes.

His lips part slightly in sleep, brows twitching like he’s dreaming. Something about the sight is comforting.

You don’t recognise him.

But something in you wants to.

“Hello?”

You slip out of bed, groaning as you do so. You step close to the man until you’re but a few feet away, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper stirring inside.

You’re right next to him now, and suddenly your heart races uncontrollably. He’s beautiful — if there’s such a thing as love at first sight, this had to be it. You can’t think about anything else except his sharp jawline and that messy, adorable hair that looks like he just rolled out of bed.

Then, out of nowhere, his eyes snap open. A piercing blue that somehow feels like a shock and a spark all at once. He screams. You scream back, startled, your breath catching in your throat.

You stumble backwards, about to fall, when suddenly he reaches out and grabs your hand. Firm but gentle, steadying you.

“Thanks, guy.”

“You’re welcome,” Bob replies quietly.

“Where am I? What happened? Who are you?” you ask, panic threading through your voice.

Suddenly, a fog rolls over your mind, and you try your hardest to think, but everything’s blank except for your name.

“You don’t… remember me?” Bob asks hesitantly.

“No, are you…”You search for the right words, trying to piece things together. He was in your hospital room, probably stayed overnight, worrying about you. You’re not sure what your type used to be, but if you had one, this had to be it. Then the question slips out, “Are you my boyfriend?”

Bob’s eyes widen as if they might pop out of his head. He stammers, “Oh, no, we’re not… that’s not…” His words trip over themselves, betraying the panic and confusion inside him.

“We’re teammates,” he finally manages to say, and you take a step back, giving him space to breathe.

“We’re on a team? Like what? A swim team?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“No, like a superhero team.”

You blink, confused. “I’m a superhero?”

“An Avenger, to be exact.”

“What the hell is that?”

***

Bob was pale and quiet, still reeling from what had happened to you. The medics were running tests, whispering terms he didn’t fully understand, frowns etched deep into their brows.

Bucky came out of the room a few minutes later, expression unreadable as he approached Bob, pulling him aside.

“What did they say?” Bob asked, his voice hoarse, almost afraid of the answer.

From the look on Bucky’s face, it wasn’t good. “She has amnesia,” he said softly. “Doesn’t remember much of anything right now.”

Bob felt the air leave his lungs. He looked toward the room, the edge of the hospital bed just visible through the cracked door. You, in there, not knowing him.

“Can you take care of her?” Bucky asked gently. “We won’t all be around all the time, and she’s going to need someone who won’t push. Someone who’ll be patient.”

Bob didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

All day, he deliberates on how he can help you out. They were going to let you out of the medbay the next morning, so he wanted to make sure you’d have something comforting waiting for you. After some thought, he lands on pancakes.

Good food had always been his go-to to shake off a bad mood, maybe it would work the same for amnesia.

After helping you into the kitchen, he serves you the pancakes he prepared, sliding the plate toward you a little sheepishly.

“What are these for?” you ask, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“You. I, um… figured they’d help you feel better,” Bob says, his voice dipping awkwardly near the end like he already regrets how earnest it sounds.

You blink at him, eyes flicking between his face and the pancakes. Then a smile spreads across your face. Cute, and he makes pancakes? You’d struck gold.

“Thanks… man!” you say, then pause, realisation dawning mid-sentence. You don’t even know the name of the very attractive guy standing in front of you. You laugh a little, embarrassed. “What’s your name?”

“Bob.”

“Bob,” You repeat, the smile on your face growing just that little bit more if that was even possible, “I like Bob.”

You start digging into the pancakes and let out a squeal of happiness. “This thing is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, well technically one of the only things I remember tasting, but still.”

Bob feels a small rush of happiness that he was able to do something for you, no matter how simple.

“So, Bob, you and I are superheroes, correct?” you say between mouthfuls of delicious pancakes.

Bob hesitates; he didn’t quite have full control over his powers yet, but he was sure he’d get there one day.

“Well, yes…”

“Do you have powers?”

“I can fly, and I’m kinda invincible, and a couple of other things,” he says, looking away sheepishly. He didn’t want to sound like he was bragging.

But then he looks back and sees you beaming at him, the same way you had been since he gave you those pancakes.

“That’s awesome, can you show me?”

He hesitates, “It’s complicated. I can be…dangerous.”

“Oh, I get it, no pressure.”

He's surprised at how quickly you drop it, but appreciates it nonetheless. You take another bite of the pancakes before asking with a little smile, “Do I have powers?”

You were already thinking of the possibilities, maybe you could fly too, or teleport or even turn into a giant frog. The sky’s the limit.

“No…” he says, and the wind is taken right out of your sails. So much for being a frog woman. But seeing the disappointed look on your face, he quickly adds, “You’re a really talented fighter, though, great shot too.”

“Really?”

Bob nods, giving you an encouraging smile. You twiddle your fingers, trying to ask more questions.

“Where are you from?”

“Florida.”

“What’s Florida like?”

He strains to think of what to tell you. Flashes of sticky summer air, thunderstorms rolling in over flat suburban streets, and the hum of cicadas come into his mind.

“It’s… hot.”

You giggle softly, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Good to know.”

“So let me summarise. You are Bob, Florida is hot, I can shoot stuff.”

“That’s about right.”

He watches you devour the whole plate of pancakes, and he's still having a hard time reconciling the you he knows and the you sitting in front of him. For one, you were actually talking to him and talking to everyone a lot more. Your dynamic with the rest of the team wasn't nearly as bad as yours with Bob's, but now you seemed a lot more open.

It’s a trend that continues as you ask him and the rest of the Avengers questions incessantly the rest of the day, your curiosity never seeming to run out. Every new answer only sparks ten more questions, and somehow, they never seem to mind your enthusiasm.

“You can go through walls?!” You gasp, eyes wide with amazement, and you nearly pass out when you see Ava do it, your hand reaching out as if trying to touch the air she just phased through.

Or when you sat cross-legged on the floor, chin resting on your hands, listening to one of Alexei’s stories with such intent. It was nice seeing you so bubbly, laughing at his exaggerated tales and rolling your eyes when he insisted every mission ended with him saving the day. “There’s no way you took them all down yourself!”

“Red Guardian defeated them all single-handedly, I tell you,” Alexei says, enjoying your reactions, insisting no one listens the way you do.

But there was a little downside. Now you were more eager to do things, and since you were also restricted to the tower, all that restless energy had to go somewhere.

This morning, it was the kitchen.

The truth is, if he knew that his making pancakes would cause the mess that you unleashed, maybe he would’ve chosen something easier to make.

He walks into the kitchen to see you surrounded by chaos, flour on the counter, batter on the ceiling, and a pan smoking in the sink. It looks like a warzone.

“What is all of this?” he asks, blinking at the sight.

You glance up at him, cheeks flushed, hair a little wild, looking like you’d just gone ten rounds with your own breakfast.

“Pancakes,” you say with exaggerated confidence, like it was obvious.

“If you wanted pancakes, you could’ve asked,” he says, stepping closer with a shake of his head.

He would’ve made them in a heartbeat. He didn’t always know how to fix things, but it made him happy to be useful, even if it was hard to get the energy sometimes.

Bob says, rolling up his sleeves, “I happen to make pretty good pancakes.”

“I know. The ones you made for me the other day were really good.”

“One of the few things I can do,” he mutters, the self-deprecation slipping out like muscle memory, automatic, unfiltered. He's been working on it, but old habits die hard.

You nudge him gently with your elbow. “I’m sure you’re good at a lot of stuff. And if not, at least you’re good-looking.”

Bob blinks at you, looking at you incredulously, like you’d just said the sky was green. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s about to argue, but then doesn’t.

A beat passes, and he gives a soft huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “You really are different,” he says, eyes full of something like wonder.

“But… in a good way.”

“Thanks…” You say. “So, about these pancakes, how about we make them together?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He’s about to start making more batter when he notices you didn’t even bother to put on an apron. He grabs one off the hook and makes his way back over to you.

“But I’m already messy,” you say, looking down at your shirt, now covered in flour.

“Better late than never?” he says with a grin.

Agreeing with him, you duck your head down as he slips the apron over you. Accidentally ruffling your hair in the process, and you let out a small noise of protest.

Then, gently, almost instinctively, he smooths your hair down with both hands, his fingers brushing along your scalp.

It makes you shiver and shake a little against your will. Your body apparently hasn’t gotten the memo on playing it cool around hot men who are weirdly good at domestic affection.

Great. Just great.

He steps closer and delicately wraps the apron ties behind you, moving with such care. You can only imagine what his hands must feel like, strong but soft, you thought.

All you can focus on is the little sensations you do get. The brief, accidental caresses against your back as he tries to tie the apron. His fingers brush your spine, light as a whisper, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Let me do yours,” you say, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart’s trying to break out of your chest.

He turns, and you tie the apron behind him. You can't help but notice how solid he feels, how broad his shoulders are. You feel that same flutter in your stomach you had when you first saw him in the med bay, those damn butterflies that show up uninvited whenever he’s near.

You step back and smooth out the fabric on his chest, trying to act casual.

“How do I look?” he asks playfully.

“Very chefy,” you reply with a grin.

You step aside, and he turns to see what you’ve done.

“First of all, what did you put in here?” He asks, looking at the strange concoction you had made up. It looked like a science experiment gone wrong, the way it was bubbling like it was about to come to life.

“Pancake stuff.”

“Why is it blue?”

“To complement your eyes.”

He blinks, fully expecting to see you grinning or laughing, but you’re dead serious.

As he chuckles and starts remaking the pancake batter, shaking his head with the tiniest smile, he says, “Why didn’t you just ask me to make them for you?”

“I, uh… was trying to return the favour.” You mumble, scratching the back of your head. “You made them for me when I needed them. Thought it’d be nice to do the same.”

He pauses mid-stir, glancing over at you. “That’s really sweet.”

Bob is about to go back to stirring when he sees something.

“Oh, wait a second, you have a…” He says before trailing off, his expression shifting slightly. He reaches out without hesitation, fingers gentle as they brush your cheek. Your breath catches, heart thudding like it’s trying to escape your ribcage, as he plucks an eyelash off your face.

“Make a wish,” he says softly, holding it out to you.

You close your eyes for a moment, your mind blank except for the thought of him. You blow it away, your breath catching just a little as the lash flutters and disappears.

And a tiny part of you wonders if wishes like that ever come true.

“What did you wish for?”

Your eyes scan his, you know exactly what you want, what you need.

“It’s a secret.”

***

“You need to eat more than just pancakes,” John says with a sigh, arms crossed like a disapproving dad.

You shrug from your spot on the couch, hugging your knees and avoiding eye contact. “They’re comforting. And Bob makes them really well.”

“That’s not the point,” he replies, “You need nutrients. Vegetables. Something green.”

You’re finally saved when you see Bob come into the room.

“Bob!”

You scramble out of your seat the moment you spot him, excitement bubbling up as you point at the TV screen. An ad for a local pizza place flashes by, and it somehow sends you into a state of near awe.

“I know what pizza is, but I don’t remember what it tastes like.”

“Can we…?” you begin, unsure how to phrase it without sounding too eager—if you asked, would he eat it with you?

“I’ll order,” he says without hesitation.

“Pizza isn’t good for you either,” John points out, and you roll your eyes at him before throwing your arms around Bob, hugging him tightly.

He stiffens for a second, caught off guard, he still wasn’t used to how openly affectionate you'd become since the memory loss.

“Sorry, got a little excited,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

Bob just smiles.

“We can eat it on the roof if you want,” he offers. “It’s a really nice view.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, already picturing it.

When the pizza arrives, the two of you head up to the roof, scarfing it down like you hadn’t eaten in days. Bob watches you in quiet amusement, the city of New York sprawling beneath and around you. Lives moving, horns blaring, people rushing through the streets, but up here, it feels peaceful. Safe.

“This is so good, I could die right now and be happy,” you declare dramatically, a slice still in hand.

You flop back into Bob’s lap without warning, gazing up at him with a lazy, contented smile. He freezes slightly, his leg twitching with nerves. You’re too busy chewing to notice the way his eyes widen, or how he swallows hard and looks away for a second.

He’s glad you can’t hear how loud his heart is pounding.

“Hey,” you say after swallowing a particularly big bite of cheesy goodness.

“Yeah?” Bob answers, turning to you.

You don’t respond right away, just stare at him again, like you’re trying to memorise every detail. There’s something about being near him that makes everything else fade out. Being in love with him, even without remembering it, feels like breathing.

“I wish I could take a picture.”

“Of… the pizza?” Bob asks, confused.

“No. Of you. You just… have one of those faces.”

He blinks. “What does that mean?” There’s a note of genuine concern. Was this your weird, roundabout way of calling him ugly?

“You have a face I wanna… immortalise. Is that super dramatic?” you ask, gesticulating with your slice of pizza. Cheese flopping to the side with every word.

Bob lets out a stunned laugh. He honestly can’t believe half the things you’ve said since the memory loss, but this might be the most unexpected yet. His ears turn a little pink.

You’re both quiet for a beat before you break the silence with a chuckle. “What is it? Have I grown another head?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “I just… you’re so different.”

But he doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing.

“How so?” you ask, muffled slightly by the mouthful of pizza you just shoved in. Even that, being messy and unfiltered, was a pretty big shift. Before the accident, you would’ve never let Bob see you like this. You were all sharp edges, always composed around him. Never vulnerable. Never soft.

“You didn’t… we didn’t really get along before you lost your memories,” Bob says carefully, like he’s stepping over landmines.

“Did we hate each other?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It was just… awkward,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Huh…” You glance past him, up at the stars overhead. The sky looks endless. “I know I don’t remember anything, but something in me tells me I liked you more than I let on.”

You turn your gaze back to him, sincere now. “It’s just a feeling,” you say, lightly tapping your chest. “In here.”

There’s a loud bang in the distance that interrupts the two of you, and it jolts you upright from your place on his lap.

You and Bob are instantly alert, eyes scanning the skyline.

“Fireworks?” you ask, squinting toward the horizon as bursts of colour light up the sky.

The distant booms echo softly through the air, and for a second, the world seems to pause. The sky is painted in shimmering golds, purples, and reds. You shuffle closer to the edge, your mouth slightly open in awe, your eyes reflecting the vibrant display.

“This is so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Yeah…” Bob’s voice is quiet as he looks over at you. His eyes don’t linger on the fireworks, instead, they find you. The glow of the explosions dances across your face, illuminating your smile. “It is,” he says, but he’s not talking about the sky.

You don’t notice his stare, too entranced by the spectacle. “I mean, I don’t remember what pretty things I’ve seen before,” you say with a soft laugh, “but there’s no way anything beats this.”

The two of you stay there for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder as the last of the fireworks fade. You forgot about the pizza. It goes cold beside you, untouched. But neither of you cares.

You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed despite the crackling fireworks and the hum of New York City below. Somehow, in the middle of all that noise and chaos, you find peace. A kind of quiet you didn’t know you needed. And before long, you’re completely asleep, your breathing soft and even, your body relaxed against his.

Bob glances down at you, frozen for a second, not from discomfort, but from something more tender. He doesn't want to move, not really. But the night is getting cold, and you shouldn't sleep on a rooftop. Gently, he shifts, slipping one arm under your legs and the other around your back. You barely stir as he lifts you.

He walks quietly down the stairs, careful with each step, your head nestled into his chest.

Then—

“What’s this?” comes a voice that makes him jump nearly out of his skin.

Yelena is standing in the hallway outside her room, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, clearly in the middle of getting ready for bed.

“She fell asleep,” Bob says, adjusting his grip on you slightly, trying to look casual. “So I thought I’d help her to bed…”

Yelena arches a brow. “That’s very gentlemanly of you, Bob.”

“She’s had a long day,” he mumbles, eyes avoiding hers as he starts to move past.

“Mm-hm,” she hums, still grinning.

He walks into your room, carefully sidestepping anything that might creak or clatter. The last thing he wants is to wake you. But when he leans down to gently lay you onto the bed, your fingers curl tighter into his shirt like talons.

He freezes. “Seriously?” he mutters under his breath, glancing down at your sleeping form. You’re completely out cold, but your grip says otherwise.

He tries again, delicately prying your fingers away one by one, but you’re like a koala in REM sleep. “Yelena?” he whisper-shouts, trying not to jostle you too much.

After a few seconds, Yelena pokes her head around the corner, toothbrush in hand, completely unbothered. “What?”

“She won’t let go,” he says, exasperated.

Yelena steps into the room, takes one look at the situation, and her face breaks into a slow grin. “Of course she won’t.”

“What do I do?” Bob hisses.

Yelena shrugs. “Get comfortable?”

Eventually, after a few more whispered pleas and another failed attempt to detach you, she sighs and calls for backup. “Ava, we need another pair of hands.”

It takes a combination of Bob and Yelena pulling while Ava gently works your grip free one finger at a time, to finally get you into bed without dragging Bob in after you.

By the time they’re done, Bob is sweating, slightly rumpled, and staring at you with a look that’s somewhere between exasperation and complete emotional defeat.

“She’s gonna be the end of me,” he sighs.

Ava pats his shoulder. “Not a bad way to go.”

***

Weekend rolls around, Bob had offered to help you go through your stuff, maybe handling familiar items, seeing old things, would help jog something loose in your memory.

You had found an old teddy bear, a digital camera with very few pictures, and throwing knives. You think it’s nice to know you’re very versatile.

You’re in your room, standing on your tiptoes trying to reach another box on the highest shelf. You stretch a little too far, fingers just grazing the edge of it, when suddenly, Bob's reaching for it too.

“Oh, don’t worry, I can—”

You’re in a memory.

Your hands slip under Bob’s, and in a sudden pulse of light and warmth, the room falls away.

You’re no longer in the safety of your space. It’s a hazy afternoon, the golden sunlight casting long, sleepy shadows across cracked pavement. The distant sound of a train horn echoes through the air, and there’s a soft breeze drifting in from somewhere, maybe the coast, maybe the open countryside. It smells faintly of dust and old paper.

A small train station. Quiet. Still. You see a little child, no older than four, and a woman beside them. The child is you.

The woman bends down, brushing your hair back with tender fingers. She’s beautiful in the way only memories can be, edges blurred, features softened by time. Her lips move, whispering something you can’t hear. Words drowned out by the roaring silence in your ears.

She kisses your forehead.

“Mom?”

Then she straightens, turns, and walks away. Her hand slips from yours like sand, and you’re left standing alone.

You come to with a sharp gasp, the memory still clutching at your chest like cold fingers. Bob is in front of you, eyes wide, his hand gently on your shoulder as he steadies you.

You call out for her, a small voice barely rising above the bustling noise of the trains, but no one comes. Watching the little kid, watching yourself, sit there and cry until your voice is hoarse, tears streaking down chubby cheeks. People pass. Some glance, others don’t. Looks are given, but no one stops to help.

“Was that my memory?” you ask, your voice faint. You’re still there, in that memory, like part of your mind is dragging its feet back to the present.

“I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t mean to do that,” Bob says, his expression crumpling with guilt.

You blink at him, really seeing the way his hands are trembling slightly, his face pale. He looks visibly shaken. Like he’s taken away your clean slate. And now the only memory that’s surfaced from your past is that of being left behind.

“That’s the first thing I remember,” you whisper. “That’s the only thing.”

Bob’s throat bobs, and he steps back slightly, like he’s not sure if you want him near anymore.

“I—” he tries, but the words falter.

There’s a thick tension in the air as you try to come to terms with what just happened. You’re uncertain, scared, and hurting in a way you don’t fully understand. But through it all, the only anchor you have is Bob.

You reach for him instinctively, like your heart knows the way before your mind catches up, but he flinches. It’s a small movement, but it cuts deep. Not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s terrified for you. Of what he might do, what you might see again, what memories might bleed through just from a touch.

“Please?” you whisper, voice trembling. “I just… I need you.”

You hold your hand out, palm open and steady despite the way your insides shake. Like you’re telling him: It’s okay. I trust you. I’m not afraid of you.

He hesitates for a beat, long enough that you can see the storm behind his eyes. Then slowly, cautiously, he reaches out. His fingers curl around yours, and the moment they connect, you don’t wait. You step into him, into his arms, burying your face against his chest. His arms come around you like instinct, and you finally feel like you belong again. Like his arms are exactly where you’re meant to be.

He thought you wouldn’t want him anymore. Thought whatever pain you’d seen in that memory would make you run.

“I feel safe with you,” you murmur, your breath warm against his neck. It was like you could read his mind.

You sit there until you feel normal again, breathing in sync with Bob as you toy with his shirt and he pets your hair.

“Why were you so scared?” You ask suddenly.

“The last time I used my powers, things got out of control.” Flashes of what happened appear in his mind— the darkness, the destruction.

“I read about it. What happened that day…”

Bob looks down, jaw tight, the guilt still weighing on him.

“Where’d you hear it from?” he asks quietly.

“I’ve been trying to get my memories back,” you say. “So I’ve been reading my diary.”

Bob’s eyebrows lift, surprised. You didn’t seem like the type to keep a diary.

“I write about you quite a bit,” you add, offering a small smile.

His breath catches slightly. “Yeah?”

You nod. “I don’t seem to understand you. Every other entry is me trying to figure you out, analysing the interactions we have. One minute I think you hate me, the next I think you’re just… scared.”

He doesn't answer right away, just looks at you like he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start.

“I think I was scared too,” you admit.

“The way I write about our relationship in my diary seems sad. Like there’s so much I wanted to say to you, but couldn’t for some reason.”

You twiddle with your fingers for a moment before finally saying what's on your mind.

“I think you should read it.”

“Your diary? That's crossing a boundary. When you get your memories back, I don’t think you’ll appreciate it.”

The tone of his voice told you he was resolute in his decision, but you wanted to leave the door open. “If you want to read it, it’s in the top drawer by my bed, in the very back. I think it’d clear a lot of things up between you and her, or I guess me. I don’t know how to address myself.”

He looks at the drawer and thinks of what might be inside your diary, which you wanted him to read so badly. A few moments later, you get up off the floor and offer him your hand again, “Let’s go, I think Yelena’s making dinner.”

***

Waking up to you was disorientating as fuck.

Since you lost your memory, you’d been clinging onto him like a lifeline. Sure, you followed the rest of the Avengers around like a lost duck, trailing behind their conversations and mimicking routines, but with him… with Bob, it was different.

You didn’t just follow him, you stuck to him like glue. Something about him made you feel safe.

“Sorry! I wasn’t watching you while you slept,” you blurt suddenly, catching yourself as he looks over at you from his bed. “I mean—well, technically yes, I was, but not for a long time... just like a minute because I didn’t want to wake you, but—”

Bob doesn’t respond, just blinking at you.

“I really didn’t mean to overstep, it’s just—I came in to see if you wanted to make breakfast together, and you were asleep and you looked so…”

You stop yourself as the words threaten to spill out. If you didn’t stop, there was a solid 90% chance you’d end up professing your undying love for him, and maybe even proposing marriage right there.

“It’s okay, I get it,” he says gently, cutting in before you can spiral any further with embarrassment. “Let’s just go make breakfast.”

You exhale a laugh, relieved, your nerves settling just a bit.

You both go to make breakfast and settle on grilled cheese sandwiches. You watch as he takes a bite and melts, visibly softening. He looks so cute, and all he was doing was chewing. You loved all the little mannerisms no one would notice unless they looked closely. The way his nose would scrunch up when he laughs, how he'd caress his hands to soothe himself, or how he makes eye contact when people are talking so intently to make sure that they know he was listening. You take out your digital camera that you had found in the box in your room, angling it just right.

Click.

When he realises you’re taking a picture, he freezes mid-bite, eyes wide.

“I’m making memories,” you say simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m just eating a sandwich,” he replies, baffled.

You shrug, grinning. “Exactly.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright…”

He tries to look unaffected, but you can see it. His shoulders relax, and his cheeks flush ever so slightly. All of a sudden, you have this unexplainable power over him. He wasn’t used to someone looking at him like that, like they wanted to remember him.

“I’m sure you could find more interesting things to shoot,” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “There’s something special about you. You look so real when you think no one is watching. I can’t help but want to capture that.”

“You mean that?” Bob says, traces of doubt leaking in.

“From the bottom of my heart.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and a little surprised. “Still… I think you should explore other things if you want new memories. Let’s go somewhere today.”

You grab his hand gently, excitement bubbling up inside you.

He takes you to a park, but all you can seem to focus on is him, how he moves, how he laughs. So you keep sneaking pictures (not so sneakily), desperate not to forget a single moment.

“There’s a whole park to take pictures of, you know?” he says, grinning as he lowers the camera.

You glance around, finally noticing the trees, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the vibrant colours all around. But you quickly look back at him, your smile soft.

“Yeah, but you’re the best part of the view,” you admit quietly, making him blush just a little.

Bob clears his throat, cheeks warming as he tries to shift the attention away from himself.

“Okay, okay…but you should let me turn the favour. Give me your camera, I’ll take some pictures of you,” Bob states, holding out his hand with an easy smile.

“Oh no, that’s fine. I doubt I’m that photogenic,” you say, laughing nervously. “You don’t really want pictures of me.”

Then with a sudden surge of confidence, he says, “I don’t think you realise how beautiful you are.”

Bob doesn't know where it comes from; he wasn’t one to say something so bold like that, but he couldn't stand hearing you downplay yourself.

He says it so softly and genuinely, you swear you heard your heart skip a beat. Your eyes meet in the silent pause, but it isn’t uncomfortable like awkward silences tend to be. It’s warm and cosy like one of Bob’s many sweaters.

Feeling like he was staring for too long, he clears his throat before adding, “Plus, all your memories can’t be pictures of me.”

“R-right,” you stutter as you hand over the camera, your fingers brushing his. The touch is brief, but it leaves a spark, a lingering warmth that settles somewhere deep inside.

“Say cheese.”

“Cheese!” you grin, striking a playful pose.

The rest of the day is spent taking pictures as you wander around New York, basking in the warm sun, laughing at everything you see, carefree and lighthearted.

“We should get ice cream!” you declare suddenly.

He buys it for you without hesitation and snaps a candid photo as you dig into it with delight.

“This is heaven,” you sigh dramatically. “Second only to your pancakes.”

He takes another picture, catching you mid-bite, and you catch him smiling to himself.

You notice and nudge him, “How do I look?”

He looks at the screen. Your eyes are closed in pure bliss, a little smear of vanilla ice cream on your lip, with the brightest smile on your face.

“Perfect,” he says, and for a second, you’re not sure he’s talking about the photo at all.

Eventually, after your long day of wandering around, the two of you get on the subway to head back home. It's packed, shoulder to shoulder, a blur of strangers and noise. You manage to find two seats side by side, squeezed tight among the crowd.

Sitting next to each other, you're pushed up close, legs touching, shoulders brushing with every lurch of the train. The warmth of him seeps through your clothes, and you’re suddenly all too aware of how close you are.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Bob says, leaning in so you can hear him over the rattle of the subway.

“So did I,” you reply, smiling. “You know how to show a girl a good time, Bob Reynolds.”

The train jerks to a stop as it pulls into the next station. The doors slide open with a hiss, and a few people step off, thinning the crowd a little. You glance up and notice an older couple standing nearby, gently swaying with the movement of the train.

You and Bob exchange a look, then both rise at the same time.

“Please, take our seats,” you offer warmly.

They smile gratefully as they settle down, and you both step back to stand nearby, holding the pole for balance. It’s quiet for a moment, and you watch as the elderly man gently brushes something off his wife’s shoulder, then takes her hand in his. The tenderness in his gesture makes your chest ache. It was simple and sweet, watching him dote on her like she was still the only girl in the room.

“You two make such a cute couple,” the old lady says suddenly, looking up at you both with a knowing smile.

You both blink, completely caught off guard.

“Oh, we’re not…” You start to say, but your voice trails off when Bob nudges your arm gently.

“Thank you,” he says to her, still smiling, then glances at you.

“How long have you been together?” The two of you weren’t anticipating any follow-up questions, so you had to think on your feet. It was time to put your non-existent acting skills to the test.

“A yea–” You start, but seeing the look on Bob’s face, you morph it until you say, “Month. A month.”

They both smile, clearly loving young love because old people do that.

“And how did you two start dating?” She asks, and you’re starting to see why the Avengers get annoyed with you.

“I was at the…” You start looking for Bob to save you, and he does. “Hospital.”

That wasn't where you were heading, but technically it was true. “Yes, I was hit by a… bike.”

Their eyes go wide with shock. “Yup, it was an awful affair. Bike messenger gone rogue.”

“When I heard what happened, I rushed over to see her and I slept by her side,” Bob adds, which was very close to what happened when you got hit with the ray.

“When I woke up and saw him there waiting for me to wake up, I fell in love with him on the spot.”

They both swoon at your story, and when it was said like that, it did sound quite romantic, Bob realised.

“You take care of her,” the old man interjects, his voice gravelly but kind. “Girls like that, with that light in their eyes… they don’t come around often, trust me, I’d know.”

Bob swallows hard, his gaze softening as he looks at you. You had a light—a spark about you—that he’d be crazy to deny. But the two of you were just becoming friends, finally finding solid ground; how could he risk messing that up?

Still, for the old man’s sake and maybe a little for himself, he says quietly but with conviction, “I will.”

Even if he didn’t mean it in the way the old man intended, he would take care of you.

“And keep her away from bikes. They’re trouble,” the man added, and Bob gave him an affirmative, “Of course.”

He’d protect you from bikes too.

You both watch as the couple get off at the next stop, but what they said sticks with you for much longer.

As you walk away, you whisper, “That was… something.”

Bob glances sideways at you, amused. “You didn’t correct them.”

“You didn’t either,” you shoot back, cheeks flushing.

“I didn’t want to.”

The train buckles a little, making you lose balance and stumble, but he catches you instantly, his hand wrapping securely around your waist.

“Trying to sweep me off my feet?” you joke, but if you’re being honest, you’re just trying to hide how breathless you feel. His strong arms are around you, keeping you upright without effort. It’s enough to make your pulse stutter.

He smirks faintly, eyes flicking down to meet yours. “If I were, would it be working?”

You look away, flustered but smiling. “Shut up.”

But you don’t pull away. And neither does he.

“The next stop is ours.”

The two of you break away almost reluctantly. By the time you get back to the tower, you feel like your heart has been racing nonstop.

Once inside, you both go your separate ways, he finds his comfy spot by the window while you wander around, looking for an Avenger to follow around and maybe learn from.

A few hours later, he hears you come back into the room. You’re following behind Bucky, asking questions, and he wonders how, in the two or so weeks you’ve been like this, you hadn’t run out of questions.

“Is it wrong of me to want to know how many pushups you can do?”

Bucky sighs, running out of words to give you. Fortunately, he’s let off the hook when you catch Bob’s eye and bound over to him.

“Meet me on the roof in 10?” you ask, leaning in close.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, smiling.

You stand looking out at the sunset, waiting for Bob to show up.

A moment later, he appears, turning toward you and noticing you’re still holding the camera.

“I just realised we didn’t get any pictures together, so I figured…”

You stand at the edge of the roof as you sidle up next to each other, sharing the warm glow of the setting sun.

“Ready?” you ask, lifting the camera.

You snap a picture of the two of you. The flash flickers briefly.

The two of you turn toward each other, the space between you suddenly feeling electric and full of possibility.

You glance down, checking the picture on the camera. A small smile tugs at your lips, and Bob watches you with quiet intensity.

He told himself he just wanted to be your friend, and he was. He was your friend now. But being this close to you, when you looked like a daydream, it was hard to think of anything else. He liked seeing you happy. He liked being the reason you were happy. So this just felt like the natural step; he wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

“Can I kiss you?” He utters so softly that you might not have heard it if you weren’t so dialled in to him.

“Yes.”

It was the easiest question you’d ever had to answer.

The moment is instantly electric. It was love at first sight for you, like fate had placed him in that chair just for you. His hands gently cup your face, drawing you closer as he leans in to kiss you.

The moment your lips meet, you melt into it.

It’s easy, it’s natural. But it also feels like you’re walking on air.

Your lips melt together as the kiss deepens, slow and sure, like you’ve both been holding your breath for days and finally found air in each other.

Then, suddenly, you feel the ground vanish beneath your feet. It takes a few moments to realise what’s happening. You're both slowly lifting into the air, weightless, like the kiss has broken gravity’s hold.

You pull back, breathless, eyes wide. “We’re flying.”

Bob’s eyes are glowing, soft gold, like sunlight through clouds. And to make it that much more perfect, he’s staring at you like you hung the stars.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “we are.”

***

The world feels light. You feel like you could do anything. Bob kissed you, and somehow, that made everything else fall into place, like that one moment was enough to ground you and lift you all at once. You kissed him so good, he fucking flew! That was something to be proud of.

“Morning!” you greet cheerfully, practically floating into the room.

“Well, aren’t you in a good mood?” John comments, raising an eyebrow at your brightness.

“I am. Quite literally nothing could ruin my day.”

You look over at John’s plate filled with all things healthy and not a pancake in sight, and sneer, “Not even whatever is going on over there.”

“You’re going to die if you keep eating the way you do.”

“At least I’ll die happy.”

And probably in Bob’s arms, but you’d keep that to yourself. You keep flitting around the kitchen, flashes of Bob popping up like you had a gallery in your head dedicated to him.

Then, of course, that’s when Bucky and Yelena appear, both standing stiffly in the doorway. Their faces are unreadable, but it’s clear they’re not here to chat.

“Can we talk to you?” Yelena asks, her voice calm but firm.

Your smile falters. The tone in her voice doesn’t match your mood. You glance between them, a nervous flutter stirring in your chest. They lead you to another room, and your heart pounds with each step. Once you're face to face with them, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“Just tell me,” you say, steeling yourself.

Bucky steps forward, voice gentle. “There’s a way you might be able to get your memories back.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“They’ve made a device,” Bucky says carefully, “to counteract the effects of the ray you were hit with.”

You swallow hard, your lungs suddenly tight, like the air has turned to cement.

“Will I remember what happened these past few weeks?” you ask, already bracing for the answer.

“They’re not sure,” Yelena replies gently. “There’s a chance you won’t.”

The rest of the day blurs. You wear that carefully constructed smile while inside, everything feels like it’s unravelling. You laugh at jokes, eat meals, and talk to the team, but every time you look at Bob, it’s like looking at a sunset you might never see again.

Because what if you disappear?

What if the version of you that exists now—the one who fell in love, who made pancakes, who learned to laugh again—vanishes?

What if all of it was just borrowed time?

You’re curled up on the couch later, trying not to let the weight of it crush you, when Yelena finds you. She pauses, studying you quietly.

“You okay?” she asks, snapping you out of your spiral.

You glance up at her with a weak smile. “Yeah,” you lie. “I’m… I’m great.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Yelena presses gently. She sits beside you, eyes focused and unwavering. She sees right through you.

You hesitate, then finally let it slip out like a confession you’d been clutching too tightly.

“What if, when I get my memories back… things are different? What if you guys don’t like me anymore?”

Your voice cracks on the last word. It’s not just about them, and you both know it. It’s about him.

Bob liked you now. The person you’d become. The version of you without all the baggage, the walls, the defence mechanisms. What if the old you came back and pushed him away again?

“We’ll like you regardless,” Yelena says, firm but kind, leaning forward, her words meant to stick. “All of us.” She emphasises that last part, not missing the real question behind your fear. You and Bob haven’t exactly been subtle, floating around the Tower like someone told you the world was ending and you decided to fall in love anyway.

“You think?” you ask quietly, hating how small your voice sounds.

“I know,” she replies without hesitation. “Bob isn’t the type to run. He’s not just here for this version of you. He’s here for you, full stop.”

The thought of him leaving still prickles, sharp and cold. But there’s something warm in her certainty that you cling to. You want to believe her.

“Thank you,” You whisper with a small smile. But there’s still that little piece of doubt lingering in the back of your head.

***

You spend all night worrying, your mind running in circles while your body stays perfectly still, tucked into Bob’s arms. His breath tickles the back of your neck in soft, steady waves. You can feel the quiet thud of his heartbeat against your spine, a rhythm that grounds you more than anything else ever has. This feels like happiness. This feels more right than anything you’ve ever known.

And nights like this… how could you give it up, when you had just begun to have it?

The thought won’t let you go. So, when you’re sure Bob is fully asleep, you carefully slip out of his arms. You sneak out of bed, heart pounding with every silent step, padding your way barefoot down the hall to the lab.

The room is dim and still. On the central table sits the device. The thing that could give you everything back and take everything away.

You stare at it. Your reflection glints back at you in its smooth surface. What would you really be giving up? The person you were before. Aloof, guarded, and apparently barely connected to anyone. No warmth, no laughter, no Bob.

Your fingers close around it. Maybe this was the price of keeping what mattered. Maybe this version of you was the better one. Maybe memories weren’t worth more than love.

You raise the device in the air, prepared to end it all before it can change you back—

Then the door creaks open behind you.

“Hey,” Bob’s voice is low, thick with sleep but steady. He stands in the doorway, his eyes not on the device, but on you. “What are you doing?”

His eyes widen in alarm. “You need to put that down. Without it, you can’t get your memories back.”

You stare at the small device in your hand, the one meant to unlock everything you've forgotten. Everything that’s been haunting your dreams and slipping through your fingers like mist.

You’re so close to throwing it on the ground, your grip tightening as your voice shakes. “Maybe I don’t want them back.”

He goes still. You can see the panic in his face, but it’s laced with something else too. Pain.

You’re biting back the heat behind your eyes, the pressure building in your chest, like red-hot guilt piercing through you. Because it’s not just about your memories, it’s about him. The fear that if you remember everything…you might lose this. Lose him.

“I don’t want to remember a world where you’re not in it,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “What if I get it all back and I’m not me anymore? What if I’m someone who doesn't love you?”

Bob takes a careful step closer, like you’re on the edge of something fragile. “Then I’ll help you fall in love with me all over again,” he says quietly. “No matter how many times it takes.”

What if you don’t love me anymore? What if getting these memories back means you lose me…?” Your voice is shaking now. “What if who I am is just… broken? I mean, my own mother didn’t—”

You stop yourself, the words dying in your throat.

Bob takes a step closer. He feels that pang again, deep and aching, like something in his chest is being pulled taut. Not just because of what you said, but because he’s watching you unravel in front of him, and he never wants you to feel like this, like love is conditional.

“The person I am now… I want to be that person. I don’t want to be the girl you think of as a stranger. I want to be the girl you love.”

Bob’s eyes are soft, full of a sadness he tries to hide, and a depth of affection he doesn’t bother to. “I’m telling this to you because I love you. If you don't get your memories back, you'll always be left wondering who you were.”

Your hands are trembling when you finally set the device down on the table. You throw your arms around him and hug him so tightly he thinks he might break apart, and he doesn't mind it especially if it meant being held like this by you.

“I love you too,” you murmur, burying your face in his shoulder.

You both freeze for half a second, the realisation hitting you at the same time, how easy it was. How natural.

You pull back just enough to look at him, wide-eyed, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“You said it.”

“So did you.”

And then you’re laughing softly into each other, that weight between you gone, just you, him, and the now. “I love you. No matter what version of you I get.”

He kisses you lightly, your lips moving in sync with one another. It’s more than a kiss, it’s a promise that no matter what, you’d fall in love over and over again, no matter how long it took.

You pull him flush against you, the feeling of his shirt beneath your fingers keeping you in the moment. Like you were scared it would slip right through your fingers. You pull back and look at him; his eyes are full of desire, and so are yours.

You jump and he catches you, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your lips reconnect as if they were magnets. The kiss is more fast paced, filled with passion as you who each other just how much you need one another. He places you on a counter, his hands roaming your body as the need to explore every part of you becomes too much to bear.

Both of you stop suddenly, your foreheads against each other as you breathe heavily. Your chests rise and fall in sync, hearts thudding loudly in your ears. You wanted to go further, God, you both did, but you knew you had to stop.

“When you get your memory back,” he whispers.

You nod. As much as you both wanted this…you couldn't yet. Not while you weren't whole.

“When I get my memory back.”

***

“So this is it?” you whisper, voice barely steady.

You’re sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, the sterile smell of the room thick in the air. You can feel your heart pounding harder than it should.

Bob is standing beside you, his hand tightly wrapped around yours, thumb running slow, comforting circles over your knuckles.

You glance up at him, eyes searching. “What if everything changes?”

Bob is the first thing you see when you wake up. You’re sleepy and groggy, and he’s sitting there, book in hand.

“You’re awake,” he says softly. You nod, your eyes slowly adjusting as you take in your surroundings. “Maybe I could make you some pancakes,” Bob says, trying to see if you remembered.

“Why would you do that?” you ask, letting out a confused laugh.

His face falls, hands tightening around the book. “You don’t… remember?”

“No, sorry. Did I miss something?” you say, blinking at him, genuinely puzzled.

“I’m sorry, I… I was just—” He stammers, trying to backtrack. “It’s nothing.”

“I should let you rest,” he adds, sensing your discomfort.

Bob gets up and walks to the door, and he’s about to leave when you stop him, your voice softer now.

“Thanks for being here when I woke up. It’s very kind of you.”

He musters a small, genuine smile and replies, “Anytime.”

In the days that passed, it was hard mourning someone who’s still alive and technically shouldn’t have existed. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be the end. The person he fell in love with was gone, but maybe he could fall in love again, with the person you are now.

One morning, you’re sitting by the table, scrolling through your phone, when Bob quietly walks in and slides a plate of pancakes to you.

“What are these for?” you ask.

“Just felt like it,” he replies, watching your eyes light up when you bite into them despite your best efforts to hide it.

You’ll fall for each other again; it’s only a matter of time.

Masterlist

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