#so...I guess you could say... he turned out... 'bad'

[websterss]

THE WOES OF BOWTIES AND MISSING PUZZLE PIECES — ROBERT REYNOLDS

REQUEST: reemoony asked: loveeee your writing and I hope this request reach you. Can you make Bob and y/n are liking each other but they never say it but everyone is well aware of their feelings. One day Bob having a rough day and void jumps out, creating quite a chaos. She tries to talk him through it but void being void thinking she’s a liability for them, he “consumed” her. Few moments after that he turns back into Bob & other people came back from void but not her. Angsty angsty but with happy ending please. Sorry if this complicated, just change it into what you feel right and easier.

WARNING(S): SPOILERS?? me trauma dumping on page 24 for the plot (google doc verified) ANGST AND MORE ANGST, mentions of toxic relationship, someone dies, Bob needs a hug, and a kiss, and lots of reassurance, and probably therapy, happy ending I swear!! I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this one, folks. I hope I hit everything, this should've been two parts lmfao. I am not responsible for your therapy bills.

WORD COUNT: 18,593 (don't kill me I was on the roll)

PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! :) Feedback is always welcome! I was truly second-guessing posting this. I’m starting to feel like I don’t have the writing means to handle Bob with such care like some of y'all do.😭 but here we are. This took me a week y’all, ya girls tired <3

MASTERLIST

The evening had come around the corner faster than Bob could grasp. Alexei was making last-minute calls to use their time wisely so that they might show up to the event at a cordial time. He would have if he could get his hair to cooperate with him.

"Knock. Knock." Yelena announces, tapping on Bob's ajar door. He stands in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of his room. His black tie attire contrasts with the baggy, loose-fitting hoodie and sweats he wears around the place. The fitted tux does nothing to hide his trained physique.

Yelena exclaims with earnestness. "Wow! Look at you!" She's whistling for effect. Impressed by how well he cleaned up. "Do I smell cologne on you, sir?" Her smile grows.

He stood straight, his eyes widening in the mirror as he turned to face her. His gaze softened, taking in her all dolled up and out of her usual tactical gear. The green was different from the black she wore. He thought then and there that she should wear more colorful outfits. He nods once, dipping his chin to nuzzle his nose into the collar. He inhales deeply.

"It's the one you gifted me for my birthday…Thought I’d give it a try…Thanks…You're not so bad yourself. You...You look beautiful." He smiles sheepishly as he spares her another once-over, bashful.

Yelena grins, thoroughly pleased to hear Bob’s compliment. In the best of ways, it was pleasant to have her efforts noticed.

“Why, thank you,” She responds with genuine gratitude. She spins in place, the skirt of her emerald green dress flowing flawlessly with the motion. She sits on the edge of the bed, flopping down, grabbing one of Bob’s pillows to hold onto. “You look good in a suit, bud. Almost ready?"

"Yeah...Yeah, just need to finish up with my hair. That's all. It’s not...responding well to the hairspray you lent me, though." He pulls at a strand. Bob’s hair was relatively problematic. No order, flow, or movement that made sense to the careful eye.

Bob turns back to the mirror. Messing up his hair, parting it to the left, before parting it to the right, trying to maintain its order, but he’s made no progress, thus far.

She smirks, amused by his struggle. "Ah, the woes of getting ready. I should have given you gel; it works miracles better than that stuff. Why don’t I take a look, huh? Maybe I can offer my expertise. We do share the same hairstyle, after all." She rises from the bed, approaches him, and notes the tousled locks that stick out at various angles.

“I don’t wanna take up more of your time…”

“Nonsense.” She motions for him to come here to begin her work. "So….trying to impress anyone?"

Bob glances down at her before focusing back on himself. He tilts his head, feeling the way the suit hugs him. The jacket stops at his waist, not swallowing him whole like his hoodies, which secure him like a blanket. Everything fits justly. He feels exposed. Yelena pauses her movements, watching the uncertainty take over his frown, as though he’s weighing something significant. The tension is all in his shoulders.

"No...not really…Just–trying to make myself look the part." His response was vague, not giving away the reason for his meticulous grooming.

Yelena quirks an eyebrow. She’s perceptive. Nothing gets past her, especially when it comes to her teammates. She hums as she moves behind him, scrutinizing his hair from a new angle. "Really? Just trying to look the part?" She questions, her tone filled with skepticism. She playfully runs her fingers through his hair, testing its resistant nature. "So, you're not trying to impress a special someone? Not even the pretty lady getting ready across the hall from us?"

Bob pauses momentarily, caught off guard by her direct assumption. He turns his head towards her, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. He can't completely mask his surprise at her astute comment.

"N-No." He shakes his head a bit too quickly.

Yelena smirks, her keen insight confirmed. She can see right through Bob's attempts at nonchalance. His sudden denial made it even more apparent that he was trying to hide his infatuation. There was no hiding behind it though. They all knew.

She steps closer to him, her gaze never wavering. "So you got all dressed up and started messing with your hair for an hour, just for the sake of looking the part?" Yelena cocks her head slightly to one side.

"Yes." He nods his head stubbornly. "Just trying to look the part..." He swallows nervously before he fixes his attention back to his appearance.

Yelena lets out a faint laugh at his repeated insistence. Her eyes narrow playfully; she ruffles spots of hair here and there. She moves over to the other side of him before continuing her touch-ups. "Y'know, Bob..." She starts, her voice low and light. "You're not a very good liar." She places a hand gently on his shoulder, leaning in slightly. “I’ve thought you better than that, sir.”

"I'm sorry…" Bob releases a sigh.

Yelena continues to fiddle with his hair from the new angle. Her touch is gentle. "S’alright… You try to hide it, she tries to hide it. You both are not very good at this thing. But we all see the way you look at each other." She speaks with a soft but knowing tone. As if she's been patiently waiting for him to acknowledge his feelings. "You see her like she’s the quiet that fills the void inside you, all the noise goes out and she’s there, bringing you that peace, and she sees you like you’re the sunrise she’s always been eager to see after she’s been living in the dark her whole life."

Bob laughs, the sound nervous, mixed in with a scoff. He's in denial. "I…I don't know what you're talking about."

Yelena chuckles at this, her smirk growing. "Oh, come on, Bob." She moves around him again, standing before him, her eyes meeting his gaze pointedly. "You think we haven't noticed how your eyes light up whenever she enters a room? She stumbles over her words when you ask her a simple question. Your gross motor skills somehow fail you when you see the tiniest hint of her smile? And she spews weird little facts that no one can make sense of." She shakes her head slightly, amused. "You're in love, as is she, and we can all see it. Last week, you fumbled a book when she spoke to you in the kitchen."

"I slipped..." Bob looked down, shrugging his shoulders, feigning indifference to your past interactions.

"You were sitting down. The book was closed."

Bob begins to teeter back and forth to try to calm himself. "Are…Are you done?" He meets her gaze through the glass. His eyes flitted up to his now messily but organized hairdo. His eyes crinkle at the sight. "It looks the same."

Yelena chuckled, her eyes gleaming. His words felt like a cover, a desperate attempt to deflect from the truth. She playfully patted his shoulder before moving closer, standing directly behind him again. She perched her chin on his shoulder. "You shouldn't fuss so much, you look great. As for your unruly hair, I only messed with it a tiny bit." Yelena pinched her fingers. "Figured some part of yourself should remain true tonight..." Yelena reached up to tousle it for show. "Also, I have it on good authority that a certain birdy has told me she likes it when it resembles a bird's nest." He doesn't miss her wink through the glass.

He still can't help but release his doubts to the widow. The way his self-esteem remains low. “I don’t feel great, Yelena. This…This isn’t me. This suit, my hair, and the nice shoes. It feels like I’m putting on a mask.”

"Bob, listen to me," She says, squeezing his shoulder. "I know it might feel weird. It is a bit weird. You're wearing a fancy suit with your hair slightly combed and shoes that aren't sneakers." She lets out a faint laugh. "But you're not hiding yourself away. Putting yourself into a box approved by Valentina." Yelena gently turns him around to face her. "You're just allowing yourself to be seen in a different light.” She squeezes his shoulder again, reassuringly. "You deserve to feel great about yourself."

"I feel good in sweatpants." 

Yelena laughs heartedly this time; she loves how adamant he can be. "We all do." She gives him a light, playful nudge. "But that's not going to fly tonight. You're going to wear the suit, you're going to go out with your friends, have a great time, all while looking good." She grins, her tone light.

"I don't feel good though..."

Yelena senses his unease. She meets his gaze again, her expression serious yet compassionate. "You are incredibly good looking, Bob. You're just not used to feeling that way, seeing yourself in that way. We've all had these moments. Hell, I've had my share," She admitted, her smile briefly fading. She quickly catches herself and tries to uplift the mood again. "It's just one party. How bad can it be?" She nudges him again, this time laying a playful punch to his chest. "Just this once, humor me. Let yourself experience something out of your normal routine." She reaches up to fix a strand playing stubborn. "Also, the little birdie has told me she loves the sight of a man in a crisp suit, too." She nudges him twice with her elbow.

"Okay." He laughs at her incredulous antics and light teasing. A beat passes before his brow furrows. "We have a bird?"

Yelena bursts into laughter at his question. "Oh my god- No." She grabs him on the arm to ground herself. Her voice filled with mirth. “Bob, no. We...We don't have a bird." She shakes her hands and head. "It's just a figure of speech. It means I have inside information. It's- Oh Bob." Yelena's shoulders slump in defeat. Bob offers a timid grin before he laughs lightly with her, finally understanding what she meant.

"Oh right...Y/n’s the bird. I-I get it now." Bob rocks back and forth with a solid nod.

Yelena playfully rolls her eyes but can't help but smile at Bob's delayed reaction. "Yes, she's the bird.”

Bob glances back at his reflection, still weighing his options. "Is it too late to change into my robe?"

Yelena chuckles at his attempt to escape the situation. “Well, you certainly can’t show up to a gala in pajamas. Sorry, buddy. No PJs tonight. You're stuck in the suit until the party's over." She grins at him, her tone playful but filled with determination. "And I'm also eighty-eight percent sure Valentina will kill you if you set foot into the venue looking like you just rolled out of bed, so the tux stays on."

“It wouldn’t be the first time…” He avoids her gaze, his cheeks still dusted with a slight tint, a mixture of embarrassment and reluctance. A bit of his inner turmoil was still cracking through the surface. "I… I should stay home tonight."

Yelena's eyes soften once more as he suggests excluding himself from the event tonight. "No, no. You're going, Bob. Don't even think about backing out now." She steps closer to him, her gaze steady and firm. "You look great! Listen to me; we want you to get out of your robes and that blue sweater you always wear. Take you out for once since you're always here at the tower. Bob, surely you wouldn't want to miss the chance to see how stunning Y/n looks in her evening gown, would you? Gorgeous." She emphasizes.

Bob falls quiet for a moment, contemplating her words. His mind drifts, picturing how you might look all dressed up. Your hair done all nice, maybe some jewelry, nothing too flashy, since you preferred decorating your fingers and ears with simplistic pieces. He can't help but wonder what color might adorn your perfect smile. Red, maybe orange, perhaps that color you told him was called mauve, with your lips lined.

I...I bet you look pretty. He thinks.

Yelena grins, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She can see the thought of you in his mind, the vivid image of you dressed to the nines igniting a spark in his expression. She catches his brief moment of daydreaming before he catches himself, his gaze snapping away from the pillow to meet hers. 

"Bob..." Yelena's voice edges amused.

"I just..." Bob starts, then lets out a frustrated exhale. "I'm not really... I'm not the party type, you know. I always stayed indoors growing up. I never went out much. I never had this. Friends who wanted to be around me. This gala is far from my normal routine. I don’t think letting me go out so soon would be a good idea. It’s been a year. You guys said it yourself, you don't want to risk Void getting out again. You...You guys would be better off going without me. I can stay behind…I don’t mind."

She understands that he harbors doubts and fears about his place among them.

"Bob..." Yelena tilts her head, staring at him pointedly, her voice gentle yet firm. "We aren't keeping you locked up to contain 'Void'. It's not about that. Not anymore." She reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're not a ticking time bomb, you never have been. We want you there with us. Even Y/n, alright? If it puts your mind at ease, even for just one second. She was the one who suggested we bring you along with us. Not because we feel it’s our obligation, and no one can watch you. But because we genuinely want to see you out of this place, cleaned up! We don't want to see you holed up in this tower forever, okay?"

Bob's heart skips at the mention of you wanting him there, too. He fidgets momentarily, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his shoes. The polished shine on them reminded him that he could have these things now. The privilege of owning nice things.

Nice things never last long. In his life at least.

“Okay…” His mind whirls with the never-ending feeling of being a bother and a burden. He's hesitant, torn between his desire to attend and his habitual tendency to keep to himself. He bites his lip, the urge to decline the invitation was tempting against the subtle want of not wanting to be stuck at the tower…alone. "I just..." His hands lingers over his naked collar. 

Her voice is gentle with a hint of encouragement. “You what, Bob?” She waits for him to verbalize his concerns; she’s patient.

"No...It's stupid." He brushes it off with a laugh.

"No, say it!" She encourages.

"No. I should stay home-"

"Bob, tell me." Yelena dipped her head to meet his eyes. He gives in after a moment. 

"...I don't know how to put a tie on." He laments, lamely gesturing to the fabric he had tossed on his bed moments earlier, having given up on trying to do it himself. His father was absent from teaching him how to put one one. He never did get to bond over a silly thing, such as a tie with him. The rite of passage, or whatever they call it. The transition into becoming a man, knowing how to tie one yourself.

Yelena chuckles softly at his confession, her amusement tinged with empathy. Her eyes flicker towards the abandoned tie on the bed.

"Oh, Bob..." She gently pats his shoulder this time. "Don't worry; we can sort it out, alright." She takes his hand and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. She picks up the tie, draping it around his neck. "You know... You could have just asked me." She says gently, wrapping the tie around his neck.

"You already helped with my hair." He shakes his head.

Yelena playfully rolls her eyes at his stubbornness, carefully ensuring one end is slightly longer. This difference would account for the tie’s eventual knot later. Yelena crossed the longer end over the shorter one, then pulled it under the shorter end and through the loop around Bob's neck. She continued folding the shorter end at the widest part to create a bow shape.

"Yes, but that's no excuse. You could have asked. Nothing wrong with asking for more help." With the bow shape firmly in place, she brought the longer end directly over it. Pinching the bow shape and the longer end together, carefully threading the longer end through a loop she had opened in the back of the bow. She then pulled both ends to tighten them in place.

"See? Sorted out." She pats his chest, stepping back to look over her handiwork and adjusting the fabric until she is satisfied with how it sits at his neck.

"Thanks...I was never taught how." Bob trails off, not wanting to bring forth thoughts of his father. They were never pleasant.

She notices the hint of melancholy in his voice upon mentioning not being able to put on a tie, but she chooses to move past it, not wanting to dampen the moment. Instead, she pats his chest once more, grinning. "Don't worry, Alexei doesn’t either." She winks at him once more. 

He nods out of curiosity before he even registers what he's asking. "Does…Does Y/n know how to tie a tie?"

Yelena raises her eyebrow at his question. She tries to hide a smirk, realizing where his mind is currently at. "Hmm...You know, I'm not entirely sure. But..." She pauses, enjoying the moment. "If I had to guess, I'd bet she would. She's got an endless amount of skills hidden beneath the surface. Surely tying ties is a secret she has, wouldn’t hurt to ask her about it."

"I-I wouldn't put it past her…She's great at everything." His admiration was not lost on her.

"That she is..." Yelena smirks. “You should tell her you know. That you’re in love with her.” She nudges his foot with her heel.

He wrings his hands together, leaning onto his elbows placed on his knees. As tempting as it sounds, he wouldn't be able to gain the confidence to execute it. Confessing to you how he felt. The feelings he harbored. "No…It’s better this way. If I keep it to myself."

Yelena's expression softens at his reluctance. She sits next to him, considering his words. "Bob, listen to me. Life…it’s too short to keep something like that to yourself. I've seen you around her, the way your worries fade. That sense of security that she brings you. That you bring to her. It’s all in the risk worth taking." Yelena continues, choosing her words with care. "Don't let fear keep you from telling her how you feel. You'll never know what might happen if you don’t take that chance."

He meets her gaze. His locks falling over his eyes, hiding him. "What if I mess it all up?”

“I don’t think you could.” 

“And if I do…I don’t want to hurt Y/n.”

“Relationships get messy, Bob, it’s part of growing together. Do you think we’d be here today, as the new avengers if we continued to butt heads every time?”

“No…”

“You have nothing to lose.” Yelena encourages. “Trust me. Just be yourself. Tell her how you feel, and before it’s too late, alright.”

“I'll think about it…" Bob stands up as Alexei's voice rings out from the hall, indicating it was time to head out. With a sigh, Bob steps out of the door frame, ready to face whatever the evening has in store.

-

Bob had a completely different idea about how the night would go. Surely, there would have been busybodies intrigued by his presence and would approach him. Possibly ask him about his powers, his involvement, and what he brought to the table, but that was not the case as he continued to stand in the corner of the venue. Alone. His hands were messing with his cuff links to help pass the time. He raised his hand occasionally, sparing a timid greeting to the passersby who gave him a side eye. He wasn’t aware how much of a wallflower he was being, but he was nonetheless immune to the judgeful stares. He might've guessed that his longing gaze also made people whisper and gesture towards him. The fact that he was staring in one particular direction caught everyone’s curiosity. 

He was looking at you, mingling and laughing with people he didn’t know. He couldn’t stop staring at you since you met the group in the living room. Yelena wasn’t lying when she said you looked gorgeous.

It felt like time itself stopped and nothing else moved, nor mattered, except you. Walker didn’t fight the shit eating grin on his face when he heard Bob’s sharp intake. The kid was so far gone that he had to nudge the man after you had complimented his appearance. 

“And here I thought you were reluctant to go out with us. You look good.” Your sweet grin was making him visibly malfunction. You gave a nervous laugh, looking down as the minutes passed without him saying anything. Heat warms your cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?” Your eyes crinkle with embarrassment. 

“No, he–“

“–Oh!” Bob stumbles to the right from Walker’s nudge. “T-Thank you! You don’t look nice- No you do! You look nice…I meant to say you look nice. You’re beautiful…You look beautiful!” Bob grows flustered. “T-Thank you.” 

“Geezus.” Walker scoffed, walking away from you both. 

“You know you can take your eyes off her for a second, right? She’ll still be there, I promise.” Bucky comes up to him from his peripheral vision. Bob’s face flushed with embarrassment, having been caught. He dips his chin before he locks eyes with the soldier. “Here.” He offers a rounded glass—a golden liquid swirling in its confinement. 

“Thanks…” He carefully encircles his hand around the glass and takes a sip. A loud cough erupts from his chest, making him lean over. Bucky chuckles briefly before helping him back upright and patting his chest. 

“Scotch on the rocks. Thought you could use some liquid courage. Get some hair on your chest.” Bucky pulls away. Bob watches as the man’s eyes avert, inspecting the room. He blended in well, unlike himself. No one looks twice at Bucky. No one suspects him of anything bad. 

“F-For what?” Bob cleared his throat, trying to get over the burn. 

“You’re gonna ask her to dance.” Bucky declares.

“I’m…I’m what?” Bob whips his head to peer at him. Then, back to you, you hit a man with your hand across his chest, throwing your head back. How could he ask you to dance when you looked to have been having a swell time across the room?

“Gentlemen…What are we talking about over here?” Walker chimes over. A hand in his pocket, a rounded glass tucked into his palm, faced down. 

“I told Bob here to go ask Y/n to dance.” 

“No wait- I wasn’t-“ He protests. 

“Ha– That I want to see. Do you even know how to dance? Can you dance?”

“Well, no… I can do the Charlie Brown in the cha-cha slide though…” 

“You don’t say…” Walker closes his mouth. He shakes his head at Bob’s enthusiastic confirmation. “Maybe teach the kid a step…or two.” Walker lifts his drink to his lips. Bucky pats Bob comfortably against his back, his chin face down, embarrassed that he admitted his lack of dance skills. “Before he asks her.”

“I should’ve stayed home…” Bob muttered to himself. 

“No you shouldn’t have. You just need a wingman.”

“A wingman?” Bob’s brows crease. 

“Yeah, someone who can help you get the girl. That gives you advice on how to look good in front of her.” Bucky's words cause Bob to look down at himself.

“What more could I do to look okay? Y-Yelena already helped me do my hair and tie.” 

“This will have nothing to do with your appearance. You already got the face and the build, kid, don’t worry about that. I just meant more of teaching you how to hold yourself confidently and how you speak to a woman.” 

“But Yelena told me to just be my-“

“Forget everything Yelena has told you. Let us help you, alright.” Walker butts in. Bob wrings his hands, he wasn’t too sure about the whole ordeal. Yelena told him to take the chance, to tell you how he felt before it was too late, to be himself, because that’s who you were drawn to. Now the guys were telling him he had to work on himself, on their way to giving him tips on how to bring out his confidence, it didn’t make sense. 

“I don’t know…I wanted to do it on my own terms. N-Not right now…She’s busy.” 

“She’s networking.” 

“I don’t want to pull her away to tell her how I feel…” The idea felt selfish. He didn’t want to be the one to tamper your fun night.

“Trust me, kid. You’d be doing her a favor. She’s miserable.” Bob turns, inspecting your joyous body language. If your discontent looked like you were happy, then so was he. 

“Maybe we should wait-“

“Oh.” Walker draws their attention. Bob turns to him before looking back at you. “Trouble in paradise.” Walker quips, gesturing to the new fellow that caught their attention. Your smile disappears when you turn around to face the hand that tapped your shoulder. 

“Who’s that?” Bob glances back at the troubled expression of his teammates. He rocks back and forth on his heels. Nervously waiting to know of the man, who brought you displeasure from what he could tell. He watches you shake your head no, turning and walking away from him and the group you mingled with. An unsettling torment rumbles in his chest, when the guy grabs your upper forearm, halting your retreat. 

You quickly turn your head around; a quiet disagreement begins. A few other guests glance over at you both.

"Sadly that is Y/n's former partner. His name is Ryker Stride.” Bucky reveals the information about your ex-boyfriend that you failed to talk about. To him at least.

"I had no idea she was with someone…" Despite the fact that he didn't look like your ex, Bob couldn't help but let his wandering thoughts get the better of him. He felt insignificant compared to how Ryker held himself.

“They weren’t together for long, they hit month six before she ended things with him.” 

“Is it ‘cause he’s an asshole?” He didn’t like the way he grabbed you. You pulled your hand back, before you walked away, Turning a corner out of sight. 

“Unfortunately.” Bucky sighed. Walker watched the scene unfold, before an idea struck him. 

“Go save her.” Walker urges, noticing Ryker following after you. 

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter. Go!” Walker nudged him a few steps forward, but Bob only shakes his head. 

“I-I don’t think it's a good idea…Walker, Yelena told me to not get into trouble before she left me here. I-“

“Oh my god! It’s not like you’re gonna kill the dude, you're just gonna follow them, make sure she’s okay. And if he so much lays a hand on her, then you slightly intervene, use a bit of that strength of yours to show him you don’t mess around when it comes to her. It’s completely harmless dominance. Show how much of a gentleman you are. Trust me, she’ll be kissing you by midnight, you’ll thank me later. Promise.“ Walker steps up to him, pats him on the chest. 

“I don’t know…I think we should get Yelena. Get her opinion on this.” He reels into himself, not believing he could carry it all out. He was a gentleman, he thought so, so did Yelena and you, why would possibly getting a man’s hands off you further highlight the fact he’d never do such a thing as lay a hand on a woman. It felt risky…but was this the risk Yelena encouraged him to take things with you further?

“I think it could work.” Now Bucky, mauled it over. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s risky…” Bob kept insisting.

“No. It’s not. You should go save her.” Walker persisted. “This is your chance and you’re seriously not gonna take it?” He scoffs. “If you’re not gonna do it, then I will. The guy’s a prick anyway.”

Bob couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First, the guys suggested he should ask you to dance, and now they want him to barge in like some knight in shining armor? Did they seriously expect him to just waltz over to you, interrupt your conversation with your ex, and play the hero? But what really caught him off guard was the fact that he actually considered it. Sure, he didn't think much of your ex when he saw his hand on you, but to intervene?

Walker and Bucky continue to implore him, emphasizing the importance of this moment. Telling him to man up. He knew this was the opportunity to act, but as usual, his nerves get a hold of him. With a hesitant look at the super soldiers, he nods once and moves with small steps in the direction he saw you go.

-

Bob felt nervous when he came to a stop around the corner. Your anger evident with every grit of your teeth. It was daunting to see you so worked up. His brows furrow as he saw Ryker hold you in the exact same position.

You wished you hadn’t walked away from the crowd. Crowds kept you safe, they granted you witnesses if something were to happen to you. Much like so. 

"Let go." You grit your teeth at the man preventing your exit.

"Let's talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about. I gave you your answer. I ended things with you for this exact reason. Your aggressive, abusive, and right now a real pain in my ass. If you can't be a grown-up about it, that's a personal issue. Not mine. Let go." Your voice lowers, firm in your conviction. 

“No come on, give me a chance to explain myself. I told you I was going to work on myself-”

"Ryker if you don't take your goddamn hand off me so help me-"

Bob was torn from the sidelines. He understood it wasn’t his place to interfere, but his heart began to beat faster as the conversation between you and your ex grew more heated. He clenched and unclenched his hands, taking a few steps towards the altercation. He had to say something, but he also didn’t have a clue how to approach.

"She...She said let her go." A dark, low rumble emits behind you. The rasp in Bob's voice usually sent a tingling sensation down your spine, but upon seeing how intensely he glared at your ex, and the way his shoulders curled in around himself. It did nothing but give you goosebumps. Bob's gaze settled on his hand, the one currently leaving impressions of his fingers on your skin. Your gaze stays on him as you catch a flicker of amber in his eyes. No. 

"She said, let go." Bob’s gestures with a pointed finger. A nervous laugh emits past his lips. It does nothing to ease the tension.

Ryker's hold on you tightens at Bob's words. The defiance in the man's demeanor only fueled his determination to maintain his grip. "Mind your business, freak. This doesn't concern you."

Your heart hammers as Bob’s eyes go full gold. “She said let go…”

You turn back to the stubborn fool with cogs and nuts for brains. "Ryker, let go of me now." You push against his hand, which doesn't let up at all. "Terco! Suéltame!" You curse at him. "You have a death wish. Surely, that’s the case!" You feign sudden revelation to his unrelenting grip. You shove against his chest, before looking back at Bob, exclaiming frantically. "Bob, I'm fine. Go find Yelena!"

"He's bruising you..." His gaze was unmoving from Ryker's grip. “He shouldn’t be hurting you.”

Bob steps to move closer, but your desperate attempt to keep him away from the impending situation stops him in place. His gaze flicks rapidly between Ryker’s tight hand on you and the sight of your growing distress.

"Bob, it's fine!" You curse under your breath, as you try to hide the pain you begin feeling, etching your features. "Ryker!" A disheartened chuckle slips past your lips, but it's not joyous. Bob didn't misplace your whine. "You're drunk, go home. You're making things worse-"

Ryker's grip on you persisted, his drunken state only fueling his stubbornness even more so. He ignored your attempt to diffuse the situation; a scoff left him. "The only one making things worse is this pri—" His words were slurred and then interrupted. Bob stuck a hand out before Ryker's grip lifted off of you, and then he flew towards Bob. 

Bob didn't hesitate to grip the intoxicated man's neck.

"You were saying?" Bob's raspy growl was not missed.

Ryker croaks, his airway being cut off by Bob's hand around his throat. He tries to form words, but only a strangled gasp leaves him.

"Bob..." You step closer to them. His cerulean eyes meet yours, and a speck of hope fills you, thinking he's not far from being helped. "Bob, can we talk about this?"

His grip doesn't loosen on the guy. Bob's eyes are locked onto yours for a split second before returning to Ryker, the grip on his neck more harsh than what is necessary. His demeanor had changed; his usually soft-spoken words and timidness were gone. He stands straight, shoulders squared. A subtle but commanding aura emanated from him. He was losing an eternal fight that the eye couldn't see, but you saw the signs. His lack of empathy, dissolving, a rugged exterior slamming down like a shutdown protocol. You didn't like the man who wanted to take over.

"Bob?" Your heels click softly with each approaching step. "Listen I know Ryker's a piece of shit okay. It's why I broke up with him..." You put your hands out to show him you mean no harm. "I thought I wanted him gone at one point in my life too, but contemplating about the asshole in such a way didn't feel worth it anymore." Ryker pays you a glare. "Bob, he doesn't deserve one second of your time." Bob clenches his jaw as he peers down at your darkened marks. He twitches as he tries to think through his inner turmoil.

"No, no. He shouldn't have hurt you. He put his hands on you." Bob's voice cracks. "I don't like it when people hurt you..."

"Yeah, well, people do stupid things when they're drunk. He's an idiot." You give Bob a pained smile. "I'm fine. Nothing serious." He still had Ryker in his grip. The man was turning red.

"He-He deserves it." With one final tightening of his grip, Ryker falls limp. You barely register the crack, surely his neck. The sound haunts you as the hairs on your arms rise again.

You watch as Bob releases Ryker. The man flops to the ground, unmoving. Your heart picks up as you realize what he's done. Your eyes go wide before you swallow the lump in your throat. "Bob, you...Did you-"

Bob's gaze was locked on Ryker's unconscious form, and he finally turned to look at you, noticing you had backed up. A flicker of realisation passes across his expression at your reaction and withdrawal. Bob's gaze remains steady, his eyes devoid of the softness you're used to, replaced by something else. Hatred.

"He had it coming." Bob's tone is firm, his voice still hinting at his usual timidness, but tinged with a hardened edge. "He hurt you. What gives him the right to do that to you? To anyone? I did him a favor." He nods more to himself.

"You didn't need to kill him."

Bob's gaze intensifies as he keeps your gaze, the look unyielding. The gold in his eyes is more prominent now. The tension was dense, the moment hanging in the air, thick like fog. "He deserved it." Bob's tone, confident and cold. No remorse. "He hurt you."

"Oh my god…No it wasn’t necessary.." You release a sigh.. "H-He just held my wrist."

Bob's eyes narrow. He scoffs in disbelief. "And you were wincing, were you not?" He steps closer to you, closing the distance. You never liked his gold eyes. Not when he was looming over you.

You hold your head high, trying not to let your gaze waver from his intimidation. "I'm fine. Killing shouldn't have been your first choice. It never should result in death unless the situation requires it. I could have knocked him out, Bob..."

"Maybe you're too kind." The intensity in his gaze was unbroken. "Sometimes, people like him don't understand anything but violence."

"I don't think you do either..." You wished you could have taken it back the second the words fell past your lips. "I didn't mean that-" You close your eyes. Regret hitting you.

Bob recoils at your words, flinching as though you hit him. "I think you did." His gaze sharpens, hurt and confusion flashing across his features.

"No." You insist.

The intensity in his gaze doesn't let up, even as you try to retract your statement. "No. You did mean it." His tone is stern. Grim. It cuts through the air like a knife. "You think I'm as violent as him, is that it?"

You only keep shaking your head, even as he corners you against an adjacent wall. "No. I think-"

The weight of his body is imposing, shadows slowly casting over him starting from his shoes as he corrals you into the wall. His hands find the space beside your head, trapping you in as he leans in close, his voice low and sharp. “Why shouldn't I use my full potential, especially when a damsel is distressed? I'm strong, so why wouldn't I try to help someone in need? Though I'm starting to think this damsel wasn't worth the time or energy anymore. Since she's yet to thank me. I came here to save you from that asshole.”

Your lip trembles as you reach for your gun. You act fast on impulse. Switching the safety off your weapon with precision and speed before a shot rings out. Surely someone's heard it go off.

Bob's reaction was instantaneous as pure adrenaline surged through his veins. He acted on instinct, seizing your wrist in a firm grip. He holds your gun-wielding hand steady. The weapon was aimed at a spot just past his right ear. His voice is eerily calm. “You missed.” 

Your outcry was real this time as the gun slipped out of your hand. Out of reach now. Bob held your wrist, much like Ryker had. Only this grip was severely cruel, whereas Ryker's was bruising you, Bob could easily break your wrist with slightly more pressure applied. "Y-You're hurting me-" You shove against his chest. He was unfazed by your attempts.

"And you were going to shoot me....God, why do we even keep you around?" Your eyes widen as the shadows reach up to his torso.

"'Cause I'm one of you..." You arguably strain.

He doesn't allow himself to give in to your words; he doesn't soften or falter. You press the left side of your face into the wall as he sneers and breaths heavily into your cheek. "You sure about that?" His tone was condescending. He pulls you into his chest, dragging you away before you know it.

-

A yell breaks out when you're thrown across the venue’s dance floor. Your body hits the ground roughly, sending you rolling before you stop face down into the ground. You lay there trying to gather your bearings.

He threw me! Your thoughts alert you.

"T-That hurt..." You mutter to yourself as you take note of the crowd, stepping back and away from the center. Separating a path as Bob, halfway transformed into Void, approaches with steady, slow footsteps.

"Y/n!" Yelena makes for you, but you shake your head.

"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. Your face fell when you noticed them reach for specific spots on their attire. Weapons. Hidden from wandering gazes. Had they anticipated this to happen? "Stay back!" You warn, pushing off the ground with shaken legs. Your chest rises and falls heavily, trying to push through the pain of being thrown like a rag doll.

"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.

Bob's eyes remained fixed. Golden. The shadow within him, consuming his being. His expression was almost feral. He stops in front of you. He had no hesitation and no mercy. No, not for you. No more.

Bob watches you stumble forward with an unsettling lack of regard. Even though he had been rougher with you than he'd like, his demeanor didn't soften. He begins stepping towards you. "You're a drawback." His tone is harsh, lacking the usual warmth he holds towards you.

Your head falls into your shoulder, defeated and solemn, as Bob's demeanor doesn’t change. Black overshadows his delicate features. He is no longer the timid and awkward man you thought you knew. Now, he is Void—a twisted, broken force to be reckoned with. The two white dots for eyes stare back at you hauntingly.

No trace of warmth or familiarity in his eyes. Just a tormenting, head tilt directed at your vulnerable state. "A liability." His head tilts to the other side now.

Yelena steps closer to you. A hand was held out in front of her, ready to shove you behind her. She was all too familiar with the Void's dislike for you. He hadn't been too kind to you in your shame rooms. Giving you hell the most when the group rejoined in the attic. He hated you, hated how you made things quiet for Bob. You provided a sense of comfort and a safeguard for him to fall back on. Void wanted you gone. Now more so than ever.

"Bob?" Yelena gives it a go before she reaches for you.

Instantly, you're yanked by your wrist, slamming into his chest, forcing you to meet his menacing stare. You watch his wickened grin grace you, the white dots for his eyes reflecting the sliver of hope within him. Barely there.

"No!"

"Let her go!"

"Bob, let her go!"

"Bob, if you can hear me. Stop this!"

Multiple safety clicks are echoed all around the room. You turn briefly, locking eyes with Ava, Yelena, and Walker, directing their pistols' ends towards the shadow man. Bucky is on standby with his weapon of choice. You lock eyes with him, shaking your head. Their hesitance to shoot is noticeably painful.

"You can't be trusted." Void continues speaking slowly, calculatingly, each word falling heavy and deliberate, as the shadows consume you from your heels. "You act impulsively based on your emotions. You're a waste of time. You're only making him weaker."

The shadows wrap around your ankles, coiling around them, consuming them in darkness. You feel the shadows creep up your legs, snaking their way up your body, now to the halfway point of your waist. It didn't take a genius to know what was happening. "Then get it over with already..."

He chuckles darkly before you see your friends and various guests begin being turned into shadows. Void's gaze flickers around the room. People start to scream and flee, while others begin to try to fight back. He remains unfazed by the panic as he lifts you to his eye level, the shadows reaching your chest now. "You don't matter...you never will." You release a gasp, your eyes closing as the shadows curl over your head like a hoodie. Then your body's gone from his grasp. No shadow in sight.

-

Bob sat up, startled. His eyes snapped open, his breathing heavy and ragged as he shook his head and ran frantic fingers through his now messy curls. His heart raced in his chest. "What..." He muttered, trying to shake the remnants of the horrid nightmare from his mind.

"Bob?" He whips his head up fast, causing him a sudden dizzy spell, before he locks eyes with Yelena on the ground. He begins to register not only her disheveled state but also various other bodies, sitting up from the ground as well.

"What the hell..." Ava curses as she goes to stand. Yelena followed suit, as shadows started to disperse from each figure that had stood in the room a while ago.

"What happened here?" Bob, nervous, stood up, trying to find his bearings.

"Great, you don't remember."

Bob's confusion grows as he takes in the sight of everyone around him. He rubs his temples, trying to make sense of what's happening. "I...I don't know..." He shakes his head, feeling dazed and disoriented. "I was... dreaming, I think. It was a nightmare. But, I can't remember much."

"It's fine, Bob." Yelena waves him off.

Bob rubs his hands over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. The group is gathered in the venue, their surroundings in disarray. Chairs toppled, tables were knocked over, and the floor was littered with shattered glass. "What happened here?" He asks again, taking in the state of the room.

"Void." Bucky sighed.

Bob's heart sinks at the mention of Void. He knew all too well the damage and chaos the other guy brought with him. "Void did this?"

"Yeah..." Walker nods. "But from the looks of it, you only maintained it here, so I call progress." Bob was lost.

"I did? I don't remember anything. I only remember seeing Y/n talking to that Ryker guy, before everything got fuzzy again."

The mention of your name had them freezing. Yelena looked to him before her body swirled around in search of you. Yelena's eyes widen with realization. 

"Y/n... Where's Y/n?" The room falls silent as they begin to realize the absence of your presence in the venue.

"What's with the long faces?" Bob wrings his hands together, not understanding the concerned glances everyone threw his way. He turns his head like they do, eyes darting around, falling onto multiple strange faces, searching but never really finding what they looked for. "What's wrong?... Where's Y/n?" His body tenses, dread seeping in.

"What do you mean, where is she?" Yelena's heart plunges. "Bob?" She inched closer, trying to get a read on him. "D-Do you remember anything?"

"No, I told you all that I know. I saw Ryker with Y/n before everything got dark." Bob glanced over to Walker and Ava's hardened gazes. He curled in on himself. He didn't need to be a genius to know something was wrong and that he was at fault. "W-What do you mean? Where is she?"

"Alright, kid, quit messing around. Where'd she go? We all came back, so why didn't she?" Walker rolled his eyes, not in the mood for his oblivious antics. "Where is she, Bob?"

"I-I don't know where Y/n is? What did I do?" Bob frantically shrugs his shoulders.

"No." Dread fell over Yelena's face. "No, no, no." Yelena cupped her stomach.

Bob noticed Yelena's expression, confusion etched on his face, "W-What's going on? What did I do?"

The group looked at him in pity, their faces riddled with worry, fear, and confusion—all except Bucky, who remained silent and stoic. Everyone waited for Yelena to speak. Yelena's voice was shaky, her words softly spoken.

"You didn't do anything." Yelena's eyes started to water, her body trembling. "No..." She looked around the room once more. Nothing. "Okay...Okay. How do we get her back?" She highlighted.

"Get her back?" Bob shook his head.

"You're asking us?" Bucky pointed to himself. "How would we know?" He perplexes.

"I...I don't know!" Yelena's breathing grew ragged, on the verge of tears. She blew raspberries. "She can't be gone...we all came back, there's that!"

"Yeah, but she didn't." Walker voiced everyone's dread. His tone grew sharp and impatient. He pointed to Bob, "Why is that Bob? Why didn't she return like the rest of us?"

"Surely there's some reasonable explanation for this-" Ava tried leveling the situation.

Bob's expression turned somber, his eyes darting to each person searching for an answer. He stuttered, "I...I don't know why. I swear, I don't know. I...I'd never ever hurt her, I promise. I'd never hurt her." 

Yelena's voice was shaky, her words barely above a whisper. "We know you wouldn't, but she's gone. Maybe still in the Void, and we need to get her back."

"The question is how, though?" Walker queried.

Yelena shrugged, her eyes reddened and puffy. "I got nothing...." Everyone remained quiet.

Bob wrung his hands together before a suggestion conjured up in his mind. "W-What if you knock me out?"

The group froze, all turning to look at him in disbelief. 

"What?" Yelena furrowed her brows, confused by his reasoning. 

Ava chimes in, disagreeing. "That doesn't even sound plausible."

Walker let out a scoff. "Knock you out? Are you out of your mind? What good would that do for us?"

"We risk the Void escaping again!" Alexei voiced his concern. "It is a no from me!"

"Sorry, it was just an idea. I thought it could work- Sorry." Bob shakes his head, letting his head fall to the ground again. Bucky, the more level-headed of the group, weighs the idea before speaking.

"Bob..." Bucky steps forward, his gaze fixed on the distressed male. "What do you mean by that? Why do you suggest that we knock you out?"

A spark of hope ignites behind his eyes. Someone's taking a chance on his idea. Bob nods before saying, "Maybe if you guys knock me out. I could find her...in here." He peers up through his lashes at the soldier, gesturing to his temple. "It was just an idea..."

Bucky's gaze remains locked on Bob, contemplating his proposal. Yelena moves from her spot, placing her hand on Bucky's arm. "Bucky, you can't be serious."

"You got a better plan… We don't have anything to go from. It's better than nothing. It could work..." Bucky shrugs at Bob, who straightens. Bob stares at Bucky, surprised that he was on board with it. He turned to the others, waiting for their opinions.

"But how can you know for certain... that it will work?" Yelena counters.

"It's a stupid idea," Ava mutters, shaking her head.

"Alright, how hard do I have to hit him?" Walker begins removing his blazer, rolling his white dress shirt up to his elbows. 

"Woah woah woah! Let's think this through, there are other ways we can do this!" Yelena cuts in frantically.

"She's right, punching him won't phase him."

"Then how the hell are we supposed to knock him out?" Walker complained.

"You could..." Bob swallowed back a lump. "You could choke me..."

Ava whips her head over to Walker's baffled gaze. She nudges him with a shit eating grin. "Choke him!" She urges.

Bucky places his hands on his hips, and a heavy sigh leaves him. "You sure about this, Bob?"

A mixture of nervousness and determination washes over Bob's face. Bob nods, trying to seem brave. "Yeah...I'm sure. I have to try…For her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, you know?" He lets out a faint laugh, but his smile only lasts a few seconds.

A grimace is on Yelena's face as she watches the scene begin to unfold. Bucky places a firm hand on Bob's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t kill him, Walker. Do it quickly, just enough to make him unconscious. Got it?” 

Walker shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He approaches Bob, hesitant about his decision. He grabs Bob’s forearm before making him turn around. His back now faces him. "Sorry in advance, kid..." Walker swallows hard before he wraps his arms around Bob’s shoulders. It's not long before his arms tighten around his neck. Bob protests, raising his hands to where Walker's hold reduces his oxygen. He knew he had to give in, for your sake, but he'd be lying if he said the whole plan was terrifying.

Bob tries to resist even as he meets Yelena's pained expression. Bucky's head turns away so as not to look, but he thinks twice before looking back, to be there as his source of comfort as he starts tapping against Walker’s arms.

"You'll be fine, kid. Just relax, alright? Don’t fight it." Bucky tries to reassure him. Bob feels the pressure build up in his head and lets out a gasp before he nods. His eyes flicker back and forth between gold and blue. His throat feels like it's being crushed, not the most pleasant thing he's experienced, but what's worse is the way Yelena is watching him. Not at all okay with this. She never liked seeing him hurt.

His eyes meet Yelena's, and her eyes are filled with dread. He manages to mouth his words with a weak smile. I’ll. Find. Her.

Bob's eyes start fluttering. His expression starts drooping as he's on the verge of passing out.

The world blurs as he starts to feel the rush; his head starts pounding. Then his surroundings turn dark. The pressure becomes too intense, and he goes limp. His body falls into Walker’s arms. Walker sighs, letting his arms unravel from his neck before he walks backwards, gently laying the man on the floor. He stays crouched next to him, hating this more than anything. “Now what?”

"We wait." Yelena chimes in solemnly. Grabbing a discarded chair, planting it before her unconscious friend, and plopping herself down on it. “And hope this work.”

-

Bob didn’t know how long he had been roaming through his shame rooms before a particular doorway appeared. The brown door, sticking out like a sore thumb from the white walls of his childhood home, his shame room, where his dad was screaming at him, asking him where he was going. He gave his father one more glance before he rushed towards it. Opening and slamming it shut behind it. But as he put his force behind the shove. The door itself caught on the doorframe. He tried again, but it wouldn’t budge, leaving behind the hope that it would close, but a thin space between the doorframe and the door prevented its enclosure. 

“It doesn’t close…The floor is sunken there.” A high-pitched voice raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He pushes himself from the door before he swivels in place. A small child greets him on the floor. 

"Y/n?" Bob inched closer to what he presumed to be your younger self. You were donning a pink and purple sweater, a sequined puppy plastered on the front of it. A few sequins turned over like you had run your hand across them. Black leggings worn out and fuzzy purple socks on your feet. A mirror of your adolescence.

Your younger self looks up as he approachs. He met her gaze before she pointed to the other end of the room. “She’s over there.” 

He swiveled around, scoping the room's entirety, until his gaze settled on his goal. His search concluded as he saw you curled underneath a desk. His shoulders slumped at the sight. Your face was dazed, staring straight ahead. Eyes barely blinking. You, too, donned the puppy sweater and leggings. Different from your dress, which you looked lovely in tonight.

You hadn't even bothered to acknowledge his presence as your younger self kept trying to build a puzzle laid out before her. An image of a snowman, in a forest surrounded by trees. A few pieces were chipped, and one, unbeknownst to him, was missing, lost, meaning you'd never fully complete it over the years of trying to, in this room.

"Y-Y/n." He reveled in saying your name out loud.

"I don't want to talk to anyone." Bob turned to look back at the child, placing another piece in its correct spot. 

Bob crouched down to be eye level with you under the desk. He held his breath, waiting for any sort of reaction. For a flash of recognition, but there was nothing. No response.

"I-I didn't mean for you to be trapped in here." His voice shook.

Bob's expression twisted into one of deep regret. He reached out to touch your knee but stopped himself, his hand hovering a few inches above as it trembled. His gaze flitted to your younger self. She seemed focused on the puzzle piece in her hand, utterly oblivious to his internal torment. The sight only intensified his agony.

"I–" He opened his mouth to reply, perhaps to reassure you, but no words were forthcoming. "C-Can I join you?" Bob fell back on his bottom and gestured gently to the center. Your younger self looked up.

"Sure." She barely peers up at him, unbothered by his request, but holds out a piece to include him all same.

Bob accepts the piece, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he takes it. He turns it over in his grasp, examining the surface of it before looking back at the puzzle. He slides his piece into place, his movements careful but precise, ensuring a perfect fit.

"Thanks." He murmurs, his gaze drifting back to your younger self. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching as if chewing on words he couldn’t quite muster. He lets something out for now. "I've never been good at these..." Bob confesses, "Could never finish them. Sit still."

"It's okay...We've never finished this one, but we keep trying to." The child's disheartened smile makes him want to break down.

Bob nods curtly, his throat tight. The sight of your indifference nearly unravels him. He turns his attention back to the puzzle, trying to ground himself in its simple but comforting task. He picks up another piece, turns it over.

"I’m... I can't-" Bob stops short, clearing his throat as it threatened to close up. He tries again. "I can't believe I did this to you." He whispers, more to himself than anything. "I wish I had more control over my powers. I could have saved you the pain."

"We're not mad at you for it. We promise." Your younger self reassures. Handing him another piece after placing another perfect fit down.

Bob's breath hitches in his chest. Your reassurance is like a balm to his wounded soul. Hearing those simple words from you, from her, eases some of the guilt that has been consuming him. He accepts another piece from you, gently placing it into the puzzle again.

"You… You should be." He mutters, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "I put you in here." His gaze flicks back to her face, taking in her innocence, how calm she remains. It's infuriating. Why are you not raging at him? Shouting? He deserves it.

"The Void put us here." You corrected him. "What's being upset over it gonna accomplish?" Your younger self hovers her hand over a certain area; uncertainty flashes behind her eyes. You're hesitant. Bob, conflicted, reaches forward and guides her small hand over to a spot he thinks it will fit. It does. "Thanks." She’s appreciative before enthusiastically grabbing another, ready to advance in the puzzle's completion.

Bob's heart clenches as you respond rationally. It's eerily shocking how mature you are for your age. The way you forgive so easily is at odds with the guilt he feels. Yet, somehow, your words have an undeniable power over him. He can feel the grip of the Void's hold on him loosen ever so slightly. He helps you slide in the next piece as it clicks into place. Your giggle warms his heart. The corners of his lips curl up at the sound.

"How can…. How can you be so calm about this?" Bob can't help but ask, his voice tinged with disbelief mixed with awe.

"I-I have to..." Your younger self falters. Her composure glitched before she blinked and continued as if nothing had happened. She avoided his gaze, looking back down at the puzzle. "We have to be. Otherwise, what comes next would be unbearable."

Bob's brow creases with concern at the glitch. A ripple in your memory, the imposed calmness that he couldn't miss, faltering. The way you had been referring to yourselves as we, never as I. He was getting somewhere. At least he hoped he was.

"What…" He hesitates, but curiosity gets the better of him. "What's coming next?"

"Ya estoy harta!" Your younger self flinches as a glass breaks in the distance. "Vete con tus pinche putas! Ya no me importa! Largarte! Largarte!"

"Ya no puedo! Ya basta. Pinche loca ya no puedo!"

Bob immediately tenses, ready to protect you and your younger self from whatever threat looms, but as the shouting continues in the distance, he recognises something familiar in the language. Spanish.

"Is... Is that...?" He whispers, knowing the answer but hoping he's wrong.

"S-Spanish." Your body convulses and twitches as the vulgar language is spoken. Feeling gross. You try to block them out, pausing your puzzle making, your hands harshly slammed against your ears. Tears form in your eyes as the screams only continue. You run over to the door, banging and kicking it. The kick makes the door widen, before you push against it. 

"Shut up!" Bob flinches as your small body screeches. "Shut up! Ya cállate!" Your outcry only intensified. Your body shaking with sobs. "Shut up! Shut up!" You turn the lock, knowing it serves no real purpose. Your bedroom door barely closed. The doorframe stopped it from entirely shutting. You've never been able to lock it, not once. You turned and walked over to a corner where a dresser sat. You go to push it until it starts sliding across the floor. Pushing with everything you had in your tiny body, until it sat in front of the door. Blocking them from entering. You didn't want them near you. You kick the wall next to it in anger. To have them hear just how upset they made you. Hoping your meltdown would cause them to stop, to see how much they’re hurting you. You go far as to grab something heavy launching it into the wall too. The bang as agressive as your parents anger. 

It's not long before you move to where you remain under the desk. Your younger self crawls underneath with you. Scooting herself next to you as your older self ticks and shivers at the language exchanged. Your younger self cups her ears and lets out an ear-piercing scream. All the while, yourself sheds a tear. It's only then that he finally gets a real reaction from you. You turn to your younger self wanting to save her the pain. You wrap an arm around her and tuck her in close to your side.

Bob is frozen in place as the scene unfolds before him. The sheer desperation in your voice is gut-wrenching; you just want it to stop. He watches with staggered breaths as your younger self curls into you. The shouting and screaming continue in the background.

He wants to move, to grab the dresser and shove it through the wall, to put an end to the shouting and the pain taking place on the other side of that door. But he remains where he is, watching yourself try to help your younger self find solace. His eyes dart to the blocked door, listening to the muffled yelling from outside. He grits his teeth, anger bubbling within him.

When he turns back to look at you both. Your younger self is nowhere to be found beside you. "Here!" His head turns to the child sitting before him again on the floor. Another puzzle piece was offered to him once again.

How long did you relive this before he got here? The memory had reset again, he realized.

Bob's hands tremble as he gradually accepts the puzzle piece. Peering down at the upright face, snow-like texture painted on the piece to help him determine where it could go. He stares at it, guilt slowly seeping into his bones as he lifts his head to watch your younger self concentrate on the image the pieces were curating.

"How...How many times has she-you-" Bob can't even fathom how long you've been sitting under your desk, to appear so numb to everything. "How long have you been in here?"

"This is loop ten." Younger you, spares him a pinched grin. It doesn't reach her eyes.

Bob's stomach churns at the revelation. Loop ten? You've had to face this same scene ten times over, stuck in an endless cycle. He wants to scream, to tear everything apart, to make it stop. But he can't. He's just a participant in this twisted nightmare. His eyes shift between the puzzle and your younger self, his guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. He had to try; this was you he was talking about. You'd done so much for him; he owed you that much. To push past how scared he was of screwing things up even more.

Your younger self looks up, halting her movements. "I-I can't finish it." You finally refer to yourself in first person. You look down at the puzzle. "I just wanna finish it."

"You want to finish the puzzle?" Bob questions, his words tinged with both confusion and understanding. He glances at the puzzle, taking in the incomplete image. It's beautiful in its own way, even without all the pieces. But the thought of you stuck in this repetitive loop, trying to complete it, it's unbearable. "You... You don't have to finish it." He says softly, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he can even change your mind within the confines of this memory.

"I want to." Hope. A small spark ignites within Bob as your younger self expresses her determination. He picks up on the subtle changes in your expressions, the way your younger self glitches and gives way to glimpses of your older self. He clings onto this as a sign of change, that he can somehow alter this loop. 

His back straightens. He looks back at you under the desk. You were still there, but a sliver of hope had him realizing you wanted to crawl from underneath there. "I... I get close, and then I never do. There's always a piece missing." The child's brows furrow with frustration. You go to place the remaining six pieces before pulling your hands into your lap.

"Missing piece?" His eyes flick back to the puzzle, taking in the image, searching for what could be amiss. Then there it is, the center spot, vacant. His gaze darts around the room. "Maybe it's somewhere else? In a drawer? Or under the bed?" He muses, his mind racing with possibilities, until the screams of your parents have him glancing at the door. He glances down at you, then at you under the desk. 

"Hey!" You peer up at him. "Just... Just focus on me. Listen to my voice…not theirs. Okay?" With labored breaths, his grin grows as he tries to reassure you from the shouting behind the door. "Where would you look first?" Your younger self gets up and heads for the door, when suddenly you appear criss-crossed before him. His eyes widened, trying to gain your attention this time. "Y/n? Hey!" He exclaims, reaching forward, touching your shoulders. "Hey. Hi, oh my god hi!" You turn back to face him after having peered over at the door.

"B-Bob?" Your voice croaks.

"Yes!" Bob lets out a sigh of relief. He can't help the small laugh that escapes his lips. "Yes, it's me. Me Bob. That's me!" He gives a firm nod, still holding onto your shoulders. He leans down to meet your gaze. "I'm so sorry. The team told me what happened and how Void got out and ruined everything. How everyone came back, but you never did. I... I should've stayed home. I knew it was a bad idea to go to that gala, but the team insisted, you insisted, on getting me out of the tower, and...I screwed everything up again. Like I always do. But I'm here. I'm here and I want to make things right. I'm gonna get you out of here." His conviction bled through.

Your eyes glisten. You looked so small compared to the confidence you carried around him and the others earlier in the evening. You flinch, glancing over your shoulder as another vulgar word reaches your ears. "D-Don't listen to them." Bob turns your chin back over to him.

Bob forces a pinched smile as your attention returns to him. He squeezes your shoulders, his fingers gently kneading into your flesh, trying to ground you. "You want to finish this puzzle…We'll finish it." He says firmly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You muster a nod before looking at the blank spot, mocking you from its completion. Bob pulls back. Your younger self begins screaming and pushing the dresser towards the door. Your eyes close as a tick rakes through you. Bob takes note of your reaction, how the side of your ear hit your shoulder blade. Your younger self finishes under the desk, before she appears beside you and Bob. The puzzle resets back to its previous state of incompleteness once again. 

Loop eleven.

He shifts his eyes down to your hands, something you twirled around mindlessly, catching his attention. His brows furrow as he reels in the object you acquired, the thing you fiddle with, it was the piece you needed to finish the puzzle.

You had it this whole time. His eyes soften.

"It seems almost selfish..." You concur.

His mouth parts as the realization dawns on him. "You..." Bob whispers, his words lost in awe. "You had it this whole time?" His gaze switches from the piece in your hand back to your face.

Your younger self's determination and stubbornness faded, replaced by the realization that you were holding onto the very thing you sought all along. He's struck by the simplicity yet irony of it all. You were so close to finishing the puzzle, but blinded by what was literally in your hands to do it. He shifts and turns to your younger self, peering up at you, expression expectant, waiting, filled with melancholy. She goes back to adding the six final pieces again. 

"This stupid piece…That I could never find. I threw the puzzle away when I couldn’t finish it. It’s so stupid…"

Bob looks at the puzzle piece, a mix of emotions roiling within him. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing how long you'd been trapped here, the endless loop of trying to finish the puzzle without realizing you possessed the very thing needed to complete it. Your younger sits back, wringing her hands together, a mirror of his timidness. It brought him a sense familiarity, something he weighed on now, that you both had something in common. He reaches out, gingerly taking your younger self's hand, before looking back at you.

"It's not stupid." He reassures you. "Sometimes… we search for things so hard we forget to look in simple places." He pauses, his gaze lingering.

Your inner turmoil was evident. You dig a hand into a side pocket of your sweater, he hadn't known was there. "It was in my pocket..." You scoff. Shaking your head. "This whole time!"

Bob watches you, the realization settling in for both your younger and older selves. Younger you then mirrors your actions, stuffing her hand in the pockets, only to pull them out and be left empty handed. It was a poignant moment. "You-" Bob can't even finish the sentence, words momentarily lost on him. It was so simple.

Bob couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, a bittersweet sound. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. You had been carrying the solution to your problem all along, hidden in your pocket. He shook his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and amazement. "I-I once lost my phone…It was in my hand the entire time." A lopsided grin took over his features. ”Though I’m pretty sure it was the meth that hindered my senses from realizing it was there the whole time...” He trails off, noting that his attempt to offer a similar experience did nothing to comfort you.

"It’s not the same…" You shake your head. 

Bob breathes a faint laugh at your pouting, the sound of it reverberating across the room, a stark contrast to the ongoing shouting and aggression outside the room. "I think...I think you'll be okay." He chides gently, trying to bring light to the situation.

“How do you know that?”

“‘Cause you guys helped me…Help me still.” He corrects

Your hesitance was not lost on him. You peer up through your eyelashes, then back down to the piece. "What if this doesn't fix anything?"

Bob pauses as he takes in your question. The weight of it hangs in the air, his earlier optimism faltering for a moment. Hearing your apprehension only solidified the concern. Bob's smile fades into a serious expression. He takes in your younger self’s small form, then to you, the way your shoulders are slumped, and the anxiety settled in your eyes. "I don't know if it will." He admits earnestly, his voice soft. "I just...I just really, really hope it does. It has to."

"Is this all it takes…To just fix it?" You twirl the piece around mindlessly. "This single piece my ticket to getting out of here?"

Bob looks at you, really looks at you. The piece of paper board between your fingers spinning in a rhythmic motion, your eyes filled with a mix of peace and anguish. He sees the way your breathing picks up and the way your eyes dart around the room. He can see how much this effects you, the battle between your logical side and the part of you that's been trapped here for who knows how long, trying to meet in the middle. Conclude a final resolution.

"I...I don't know." He replies eventually. He tries. "I...I mean, you all saved me with a hug." He laughs, its nervous but light, then lets it die out. Bob wants to reassure you, to tell you that this piece will fix everything, but he can't because he's never been great at it. You were the one always putting him back together. You always had the right thing to say and knew when to apply it in your heart to hearts. "So what's to say you can't be fixed by a puzzle piece?"

"Just like that?"

Bob nodded. "Just like that." He affirmed. He knows the simplicity of it, the absurdity, the notion of such a simple thing being the key to your liberation, could probably be seen as laughable. But he didn't see it as such, it might’ve been laughable—yes, but it wasn’t to him. Hope flared in him, a spark of optimism that the solution was so simple, so ridiculously easy. "Yeah…just like that." He repeated, his voice resolute, putting your worries and fears to rest.

"Just like that..." You shed a tear, echoing his words. You take a deep breath, hearing your parents argue once more before you reach forward and place the piece in the center. Your body convulses as you begin to sob hysterically, your younger self sighing as you finish it for once. Bob's lip trembles as he pulls you into his chest.

He holds you tightly, your body trembling against his. His grip is firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that he's there. His heart aches as he listens to your sobs. The sobs wrack your frame as your emotions come out, a tidal wave of relief and frustration breaking through the surface after what feels like a lifetime. He rubs small circles on your back, whispering soothing words into your hair, as his own eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"I’m sorry I put you in here. I’m sorry." He whispers into your hair. "It's okay. I've got you. I-I got you."

-

“Guys.” Walker alerted the team as a shadow appeared beside Bob’s body—a dark silhouette, mirroring your form. 

The team looked over, frozen at the shadow's sudden appearance. Bucky took a cautious step forward, and Yelena rose from her chair.

It felt like you had woken up from a deep slumber when you came to. Everyone watched as your tar-like self was slowly revealing itself, like a sheet unveiling you. The shadows released you, shedding away from your form down to your heels. A sigh escaped from you as you pushed against the floor. Your dress draped around you like a blanket as you peered up at your team and the guest who lay witness. You hear a grunt to your right, you turn and watch Bob come to as well. His eyes were trying to settle amongst the warm lighting surrounding the gala. His suit was wrinkled and left in disarray as he sat up. Yelena's heels clicked closer as she reached down to help you stand. "Oh my god!" She pulled you in closer for a hug. You were still finding your bearings. "Thank god. I thought we lost you!" You peer over to see Bob take Bucky's arms appreciatively.

Bucky pulls Bob to his feet, and a sigh of relief leaves him as he sees him finally become aware of his surroundings. He pats Bob on the back a few times, his grip on his palm tight.

"I knew you could do it, buddy." Bucky greets him with a small smile, his expression slightly worried as he observes his disheveled appearance.

"Thank you?" Bob blinks a couple of times, a forced smile on his face, before it fades. "Do what exactly?"

"You don't remember-" Bucky confirms. "You brought Y/n back from the-" Bucky's words were interrupted by the touch of Alexei's grasp on his upper arm and the sound of Walker's words.

"Bucky...Let's debrief him later. Not right now." He suggested. "She's back and safe. We'll deal with it at home. Not here."

"Is everything okay?" Bob's gaze flickers over to see you surrounded by Yelena and Ava. They were checking you over, making sure everything was okay.

Were you hurt?

He looks back at Bucky, his expression hardening. "I brought Y/n back from what?"

"Not here, kid." Walker reached forward to pat his shoulder. "You did great, that's all that matters-" Walker inhales deeply as Bob's hand tightened around his wrist.

"Don't- Don't call me kid." Bob closes his eyes, his irritation getting the better of him as his eyes glow amber for a split second. He gestures a pointed finger at Walker. "From what?"

Alexei steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Bob’s tense shoulders. "Easy there." He cautiously speaks. "Everything is fine now."

Bob's face remains stern, his gaze steady, irritation clear in his expression. "Tell me."

Walker and Bucky exchanged a worried look, both of them noticing the change in Bob's demeanor. "Not now," Walker repeated, his voice firmer this time, his grip on Bob's hand that held his wrist, not letting up either. Bob sensed the clear indication that Walker wasn't going to elaborate, not in the middle of this venue. The commotion from earlier was probable cause for them to high-tail it out of there. Bob’s stubbornness didn’t help their favor.

Bucky leaned in, his tone low, hoping to diffuse the situation. He closed his eyes before giving in.  "Look, Void got loose, okay? Something happened. Everyone came back, Y/n didn't." Bob's grip falters, his eyes softening at the information. "Later, okay? We'll explain everything later. But we should probably leave, head home."

"What do you mean she didn't come back?" Bob's confusion only grows. His eyes shifted over to where you were reassuring people that you were fine, who asked if you needed a doctor.

"No, no. I'm okay. Really." He heard your voice bellow out from the short distance between you.

Bob couldn't help but watch as you shook your head, waving off any worried busybodies, and he found himself torn. Part of him wanted to let it go, to leave it be as Bucky and the others insisted. But there was another part of him that yearned to understand. He couldn't leave without answers. He pushed against Bucky's arm, which was trying to ground him.

"Yelena-Yelena!" He called out to her. She waved off another guest, who couldn't mind their business.

“Yes, yes, fine. All is good and well now.”

"Oh my god, what a mess! Is she okay?" Valentina's voice became apparent. Where did she come from? "Y/n, dear, the second you don't feel like yourself, say when. I got medical on call, alright."

"Oh no, I'm fine. I don't need a medic to come-"

"Oh my god, Valentina. She's fine. I promise. Don't intervene." She grew annoyed with Valentina's facade of sudden concern. She wasn't worried about your well-being, just worried about maintaining your image in the public's eye. Valentina continued with her rambling about how much she cared and would prefer it if you were checked over. "Oh my god, we don't need a medic here, ТЫ УПРЯМЫЙ МУЛ!" Yelena cursed. Who knows how Valentina would settle this mess with the press? She double-takes at the sound of her name being called before her attention settles on Bob's concerned one.

"Is she okay?" He mouths.

"She's fine," She waves him off. "Promise." She then nods before rolling her eyes as Valentina rants about having let him out of the house. He reciprocates her nod before his shoulders relax briefly at her assurance, his worry slightly lessened. But something still gnawes at him. His gaze drifts over to you again, his expression turning solemn as he sees the fake smiles and the feigned concern that some are displaying. You didn’t need their fake niceties.

His gaze lingers on you, trying to garner any sign that you weren't fine, but it wasn’t long before you locked eyes.

You catch his gaze, then begin excusing yourself from the small crowd, as a sense of anxiety overcomes you.

"Excuse me-" You politely muttered as you made your way toward him. It was as if a gravitational pull was urging you to him. The room, the people, everything else faded into the background as your focus solely centered on him.

Bob straightens at your approach, taken aback as you nestle yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him.

Startled, he initially freezes for a few seconds before his body relaxes, molding into you. His arms naturally encircle your form, pulling you into a tight embrace, his chin perched on top of your head. Your scent and warmth enveloped him, a sense of comfort washing over him. You felt like home.

"Hi…" Bob's voice, a soft whisper, reached your ears as he greeted you. You feel his hands mold more firmly around your waist, a gesture that makes your heart skip.

"Hi..." You return the greeting, your own voice just as soft, finding solace in the familiar sound of his breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." His response short. “Are you okay?" He emphasizes, a hand gently stroking your exposed back.

"I'm fine." You wave it off.

Bob's eyebrow raises, his expression doubtful as he peers down at you. "You sure...?" He questions further, knowing you're prone to downplaying. But so was he.

“Yes and no.” A nervous laugh resounded from you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He offers, even though he’s not sure what he’s saving you from. He’s caught glimpses of your past before, not that you’d ever truly forego the idea of talking to him about it. He was much alike you in the manner of only giving surface levels of his ugly past. You both only knew what you allowed to be seen.

“You did. You helped me.” Your words, their simplicity, but all the more effective, affectionate, sure. He helped you? How could he have helped you, but have no recollection of it? You smile sweetly as you reach to place a kiss on his cheek. Was this your thankfulness wrapped up in an act of endearment? “You might not remember it, but you were enough, and you were there." You nod suringly.

He looks at the way you're molded against his chest. How his hands fit and embrace your figure like he's ready to protect and shield you from harm's way. The way your softened eyes perceive him in this lightheartedness. Like he's somehow hung the stars in your night sky. He can't help but wonder what he's done. What he's done to be truly worth being perceived delicately. You look like you're scared he'll disappear right before your eyes, when he's the scared one, thinking you'll break under his touch.

"Bucky’s saying Void got out again..." He looks down between your bodies. "I should have stayed home- I made everything worse-"

"You did nothing wrong, okay." You reach up, cupping his face gently, lifting his chin so he'd meet your gaze. "You did nothing wrong." You insist. He places his palms over your hands. Leaning into the warmth your touch brings him.

“I remember him..." He nods at his sudden recollection. It comes to him in bits and pieces. "Ryker." His hands slide up your wrist to the purple indentations marring your wrist, contrasting your skin's original shade. He opens his eyes, hoping he's wrong when he peers at the discoloration. But your hurt wrist only brings forth the truth. Telling him everything he didn’t want to be true. He feels guilty for even letting the asshole execute the action, he tries to conjure up ways he can make the injury vanish. Would a kiss heal your wounds? Take away his mistakes? He opted not to, but he was tempted to do so. "He bruised you." He nods, firm and sure.

"Bruises fade, Bob." There you go again, downplaying someone's unforgiving behavior.

"A bruise might...The memories won't." You shake your head at his trepidation. "Why didn't you fight him? You...You're capable of defending yourself?" Bob looks into your eyes.

"I didn't want to escalate the situation..." You shrug dismissively..

"But he hurt you? He hurt you, and I couldn't stop him in time, I-" He pauses, when it hits him like a tidal wave. The way various shouts echo through his head. Your voice bellowing in anguish. A flash of your face painted with pain.

You had been thrown across the center of the venue's dance floor. You rolled and then landed awkwardly on your stomach. Your once neat hairdo was disheveled in your sudden state. You pushed up with your heels and palms.

"Y/n!" Yelena made for you, but you shook your head.

"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. "Stay back!" You warned.

"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.

"I hurt you..." Bob's eyes widen in fear. He tries to pull your hands away from his face. It was as though he were the Flint Striker and you were the one caught on fire. He was burning you. "No, no, no..." His eyes close as he gently grips your palms and lowers them to your waist. You didn't want to let him go. "I make everything worse. I should have stayed home- I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Bob." You begin your reasoning. “No, I’m fine. You saved me! You got me out of there, everything’s better now.” You reach for him when he flinches. He hates how your face falls, even more so, when he denies you proximity.

“I-I should’ve stayed home.” He accepts before making his way back to Bucky, asking if they could leave.

“B-Bob!” You call after him, your dam cracking, hearing faint clicks approach your form from behind, you look up.

“Come on. Let’s get you both home before Valentina makes an ever bigger show.”

Yelena.

You peer at her, eyes glistening. She tilts her head, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Come on.” She wraps a blazer around your shoulders. One that smelled oddly like the shaggy-haired man. You were dreading the car ride home, that much certain.

-

“So you instigated him?” The drive back to the watch tower was nothing short of an unbearable experience. Your scowl and crossed arms giving way to how pissed off you were. Bucky and Walker avoided your harsh, directed stare. Bob had sat to your side, curling in on himself as the tension only intensified. His hands were warm, a mock of how close your skin was to touching, but he’d more than likely pull away.

Dreadful.

Now you all had made it out of the elevator with the team hot on your trail. Your heels clicked heavily against the floors. Bob stood off to the side slowly discarding the tie Yelena had done for him. He looked down at the fabric. Messing with it idly to distract himself from the fight he knew would break out. His shoulders reflected that of a small child anticipating his parent’s anger, slumped over on his tall frame.

“I wouldn’t say that? It was more of a friendly bit of teasing. All we did was give him the nudge he needed to confess the undying love he has for you.” Walker sighed as he went over to the bar. “We saw how pissed Ryker was making you…told the kid to go save you or to stop bitching about how much he wants to be with you.”

Asshole.

“So you hazed him and made Void come out.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Walker trails off.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Look, we didn’t mean for it to happen-“

“Didn’t mean-“ You laugh incredulously. “Spare me, Walker. No one can function properly, when you’re down everyone’s throat with childish antics. What were you even thinking?”

“Y/n, you don’t need to stick up for me-” Bob tried to create space between you and the Soldier.

“He wasn’t.” Bucky stepped in. Running a hand down his face tiredly. “We thought it’d be harmless, Y/n. Why would we ever intentionally put him through that sort of thing?”

“I told you we were gonna get him out of the house so he good have a fun night. Did I not tell you I wanted no weapons for tonight? To not wound him up to the point of his other self being unleashed. I was gonna come back after I handled Ryker. I had it handled.” You sneer at the man. Tears forming in your eyes, shaking your head at his ignorance.

A scoff to your left makes everyone’s head turn. Bob fiddles with his tie, his head shaking, a half smile settled over his face. “He bruised you…that’s not handling it.”

“Bob-“ You sigh.

“It…It wasn’t their fault, Y/n. If anyone’s to blame, blame it on me. I went after you…”

“No-“ You protest.

“Bucky and Walker only brought the idea up to me...It was my choice alone. I made the decision…to check on you. But now…I-I should have stayed home-“ Bob shakes his head. “Valentina was right…I shouldn’t have been let out.”

“Valentina can dig her grave and lie in it. I’m tired of her trying to keep you locked up here. You’re allowed to go outside when you feel like it! You’re not under house arrest, she can’t confine you to this place-”

“I just make everything worse.” Bob's brows pinch together. You cup your stomach as tears begin to spill down your face.

“No. You don’t. Don’t think like that. You don’t, I promise.” Your protest further escalated his self-loathing.

“Void took hold of you from what everyone is saying, and for whatever reason, felt the need to keep you from getting back to us. He hurt you, I hurt you.“

“But that’s not on you! That wasn’t your fault! It was mine. For thinking I could somehow bring you back down from in there.” Your eyes meet his temple. “I made things worse. I mean—I shot a bullet at you! I could have knocked him on his ass, but I didn’t and it wasn’t the right call for me to make.” You argue.

“We’re one whole. How is it not my fault?” His shoulders slumped, looking at the team’s conflicted expressions. “Am I wrong?” He breathes a laugh out. “Nothing ever turns out great when I’m around.” He slowly retreats towards the stairs. “I told you guys I should’ve stayed home...” 

“Bob please…” You call after him.

“Let him go.” Bucky orders. You turn back to look at your teammates. 

“D-Did I just ruin this things between us?” You let your arms flop down to your sides.

“No…it’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault at all.” Bucky reassures you. He walks over to you and squeezes your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you knock him on his ass?” Walker questions.

“I was going to,” You snapped back at him. “-but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don't know...It felt like I was back there again, enduring his abuse when he grabbed me...I guess I froze." You shrug nonchalantly. "Then Bob showed up...and I couldn't think straight. Couldn't think of a way not to escalate things further, but I only made it worse, and it cost Ryker his life in the end...Cost Bob a fun night."

"He killed him?" Walker closes his eyes; your turmoil didn't do anything to hide it. He didn't miss the coms from the authorities either, claiming one casualty earlier on their way out of the venue.

You looked at the floor. "He did...and he doesn't need that put on him. So don't fucking tell him." You warn.

"I think Bob should decide that for himself, no?" Bucky raised a brow at you. "What happened to letting him make his own choices from now on?"

“Well, he wanted to stay home, but we all kept insisting he go out with us. So I don’t know anymore! And I'm not deciding for him..." Your hands were balled into a tight fist. "He should decide, yes, but when he's ready. He doesn't need to know about it right now...It just happened and a part of me isn’t too upset with him about it, but he's in such a vulnerable state right now...I feel like it’ll only do more harm than good...It'll be another thing for him to hate himself over...He doesn’t need that right now.” You say softly. “You guys should have seen him when we were in the void…He’s so capable and we take his gifts for granted.”

“We never thought he was incapable, it's why we agreed to allow him to make his own choices, decide what he eats for dinner, allow him to find his own hobbies. Tonight was just a one-time incident where we peer pressured him into leaving his room, when he didn't want to."

“Well, that peer pressure backfired, didn’t it?” You said under your breath. You run a hand down your face in frustration. “God, he didn’t even want to leave his room...Did you see how uncomfortable he was at dinner? You said it yourself, we coerced him. And I’ve never seen him more upset about it...” You turn your head, peering at the staircase. "Was it stupid of me to think we could show him a fun night out?"

"No. We all wanted the same for him." Yelena shakes her head. "It's not stupid."

"Then why does it feel like it is? He's probably up in his room beating himself up for even stepping outside."

"'Cause you love him..." Yelena gave you a pinched tired grin.

You look away from her. Your shoulders slumped as your eyes burned with unshed tears. It was quiet. No one was sure of what to say. You closed your eyes as that familiar pain in your chest returned. "I do. I love him..." Your voice broke. "But this isn't about how I feel. It's about him." You shake your head. "He was just starting to feel a little more secure with himself in public...He's gonna hate himself for thinking he ruined everyone's night. I could see it in his eyes...The last thing he needs is to feel guilty over something he has no control over." You continue.

"It's not fair to him...He's had it rough for so long, and every time there's progress, something bad happens that takes him thirty steps back." You let out a small scoff. "Maybe I never should have brought up the idea of a night out in the first place...How can he forgive me after a night like tonight?"

"'Cause he loves you too." Yelena tilts her head at your self-deprecation.

You look at her. Your body stiffens, and your chest tightens as you let her words sink in. "But what good is it to love me if it only brings him pain? How long before that love fades to nothing because of my negligence?"

Yelena shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. "You can't doubt yourself, or his feelings for you. I know it's difficult, but the last thing you need to do is start putting yourself down and feeling sorry about tonight." She squeezes your hands.

Bucky stood next to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he nodded in agreement. "You know that you mean a lot to him right?"

“And he only agreed to go out because you wanted him there with us.” Yelena admits.

“Also, we might’ve encouraged him to confess his feelings for you, but he wanted to do it at his own time…I should have stopped then and there, kid. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s admission only added to the weight that sat heavy in your chest. You look over at him and nod slowly, unable to form words.

Yelena gently rubbed you on the back. “You know he can’t stay inside that room forever. You both need each other." Yelena chimed in. “Plus he can’t go a day without his cereal so there’s that…”

"He'll come to his senses..." Walker gives you a faint grin. “He’d be stupid not to.”

“T-Thanks guys…” You step back from Yelena’s hands. “I’m gonna be outside if you need me…gonna clear my head.”

“Want some company?” Ava offers surprisingly.

“N-No I’m okay.” You brush her off before you head out to the roof.

“Take the time you need, little one.” Alexei chimes after you. You raises a thumb in the air in your exit.

When you're out of sight, Walker asks. "What time is it?"

Bucky checks his watch. "Just a quarter till midnight. Why?"

At the realization, Walker takes off towards the staircase. "Walker, what are you doing?" Yelena called after him.

"Keeping my promise!" He called from over his shoulder. “You'll see!” Bucky, Yelena, Ava shared a look as he ran up the stairs and disappeared.

"What the hell is that about?" Yelena gapes before shaking her head. “Whatever, I’m going to bed. Someone make sure Y/n doesn’t jump off the roof.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that…” Bucky shakes his head.

-

You hadn't fully registered how the cold breeze stung you until you felt a jacket fall over your shoulders.  You had been so caught by New York's optics that you missed the metal door creak open. You jump at the sudden contact, thinking you'd see someone beside you, but you had to turn further around to see the man of the hour, who had been running through your mind, stood at the door. You take note of the hand he lowers back down to his side. Putting two and two together about how the jacket made it to you. He made it float. "Bob..."

“Walker said you might be cold…” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Right…I-I was...thank you." You turn your head, nuzzle your nose into the fabric as you insert your arms through the arm holes.

He nods his head. “Welcome…” His chest feels tight watching you snuggle into his jacket. His gaze settled down in front of him. Neither of you say anything. The sounds of New York City echo throughout the night air. Car engines, taxi cabs, faint horns in the distance. Time did seem to stop up here, whereas life continued down on the streets. It was oddly comforting. "C-Could I join you?"

You look back at him, surprised by his suddenness. "Yeah...Yeah of course."

He nods then takes the spot next to you; awkwardly fidgets with his fingers in his lap. He turns his head, looking at you in his jacket. It was a sight for sure...He tried to ignore the way his heart palpitated in his chest.

He tries to focus on the sound of the wind and the city in the distance. But his eyes linger on you, taking in your form. How the evening sky envelopes you in its darkness, distant lights from neighboring buildings causing a warm hue to make your face visible to him, the way the wind nipped at your nose, and your sniffles took over you...He couldn't deny it...You looked beautiful, so carefree.

You turn at the right time and catch him gazing at you. Your eyes crinkle with a hint of heat that rushes up to warm your cheeks. You both emit a nervous laugh, settling your eyes onto your laps. His hands wring together, yours fiddling with the jacket's sleeves.

The silence continued, but this time, there was an obvious tension in the air. The both of you were hyper-aware of it. His eyes continued to dart between you and the city lights. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything..."

His heart stutters in his chest. He takes a shaky breath, his nervousness building. He looks back at you. You look at him reassuringly, like you genuinely meant that one word...Anything.

It makes it difficult for him to get the next words out. "...It’s a stupid question." He rubs the back of his neck. 

“That’s okay.”

"I-I just-" He sighs, his jaw clenching as he looks out at the city again. "This might sound weird...But do you know how to tie a tie?" He swallows down any anxiety, forcing his gaze back on you.

“Oh.” Your eyes widen at the peculiar question. “Do I know how to tie a tie?” You ask again to ensure you heard him right. Bob nods yes. 

“Sorry...I warned you it was a stupid question. Just...Forget I asked, okay?" He rubs the back of his neck again, looking away.

"No, No...It's okay. If you really want to know. I do."

His eyes flicker with curiosity, meeting your gaze. "You...You do?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but there was an underlying hint of something in his eyes. "Oh, I was just...I was just curious, that's all...I can’t put one on myself...Yelena did it for me, but I…" He trails off, looking back at the city. "I just thought maybe...You could-" His words die in his throat, cutting himself off before he lets any more words slip. He shakes his head, his hands continuing to fidget in his lap.

You register the implication. "Teach you?" You try.

His breath hitches in his throat as you finish his sentence. He looks back at you, his eyes a mix of vulnerability and relief. He could sense the anticipation in your gaze, waiting for him to respond. "Y-Yeah...Teach me." He finally manages to rasp out. "So Yelena won't have to anymore..."

"Yeah, I can. Tell me when okay." You grip his hand. He nods.

"O-Okay..." He looks down at his lap. Your touch is soft and warm. He can't help letting the guilt eat at him. You were being so gentle with him when he was anything but. "I'm sorry I hurt you..."

"Don't-” You shake your head. “Don't do that. Don't apologize." You squeeze his hand gently. "It wasn't your fault...You weren't in control."

"But that doesn't change the fact that my other half hurt you!" He snaps back, his grip on your hand momentarily tightening. You both look down at his hold, his shoulders lose their tension before he's holding you like you're made out of porcelain.

"Look at me, please." You request softly. He raises his head, trying to avoid eye contact. His chest tightens, knowing he can’t hold your gaze for too long. "It wasn't you."

His jaw clenches, his eyes stinging. "I should've stayed here...Then I wouldn't have ruined the night." His breath shakes, the words leaving him in a broken whisper. His eyes meet yours, tears blurring his vision. He hated this—all of this.

Tears sting your eyes as well. Your free hand reaches up, brushing his cheek gently. His eyes flutter at your touch. "You didn't ruin anything..."

He shakes his head, refusing to accept the comfort you try to offer him. The guilt is too heavy, weighing him down like a thousand-pound weight. He feels so undeserving. "I did...I always do. I-I..." His voice trails off, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"No-" Your hand cups his face, forcing him to look at you. "No, you don't. You might make mistakes, but you don't always screw things up. You're a good man, Bob. You're so much more than what you think of yourself..." You lean your forehead against his. “You’re good.”

He tries not to melt at the way you say his name. His face falls forward, leaning his forehead into yours. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of your touch, your words. "How can you say that? Especially after tonight..."

"Because it’s true.” You softly run your thumb over his cheek, catching another tear that slips down. “You are such a good man.” You take a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. “You’ve been through a lot…You’ve been beaten down many times…but you keep bouncing back up.” He’s still against you, his breathing ragged as he lets the comfort of your proximity soothe him. “You brought me back from the Void, you didn’t leave me…You’re so good!” You breathe out a laugh. "I wish you'd see it yourself."

He can’t speak, the lump in his throat preventing him from doing so. Instead, he closes his eyes tighter, relishing in the sound of your voice. He’s desperate to soak up every word you say, to have them sink in, become second skin. He’s been deprived of something so simple for so long, to hear the one person he cares about say those words…It’s making him unravel at the seams. When he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “Do you love me?” 

The question hangs in the air like the sound of a church bell. You take note of how he’s looking at you. The way he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of human contact that he’s been deprived of. Your hand gently cups his chin, your other moving to rest over his heart. His gaze is fixed on yours like an anchor, waiting for you to respond. You can read the desperation and need in his eyes, the vulnerability that he's trying so hard to conceal.

You see a man wanting, no, begging to be loved. To be told that he's worthy of it despite believing otherwise. You look at the way he's clutching your hand, desperate for some kind of reassurance. He's hurting, still so damn broken, but not loving him with every fiber in your being would hurt you more. "Yes…God, I’d be stupid not to." You breathe a laugh.

Your words hit him like a tidal wave. His heart stutters in his chest, the grip he has on your hand clenching involuntarily. His eyes search yours again, looking for any sign of deception, anything to tell him you don't really mean it. But all he sees is complete honesty looking right back at him. He shakes his head; a broken laugh escapes his lips as his chest tightens at the confession. "Yeah…You really mean that?"

His questioning. It only hurts you further. So you cup his face, bringing him closer so you could look into his eyes. “I do. I mean it...I love you.” He flinches. He’s frozen, eyes searching your face, waiting for you to take it back. You don’t. 

You run your thumb over his skin, gently brushing your nose against his. You see tears form in his eyes again, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Gripping the material of the jacket he gave to you, pulling you close. “Can you repeat it?” He finally croaks out.

“I love you…” You’d tell him three thousand times if he asked.

He shivers; the tremble of his chin is barely noticeable. “Again?” You’re suddenly pulled into his lap with a soft force. The grip he has on you is tight, not rough, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

"I love you." You trace his jawline. He lets out a shaky breath. It's not long till you're leaning in to capture his lips with yours.

The first touch of your lips against his has him releasing a low groan. His eyes flutter as he melts into it before he suddenly pulls you flush against him, desperately trying to savor it—savor your touch. His lips move against yours in a frenzy, his hands gripping you tighter on your hips. The kiss is filled with need, a longing he can barely contain.

He can’t get enough. The taste of you was so sweet and warm. He’s been deprived of such a simple thing that now his body screams for it. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands exploring every part of you he can reach. He can feel your body against his, its heat, that only adds fuel to the fire. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate than you expected from him. When you pull back to gather your bearings, to allow oxygen back into your lungs, you can’t help but cry. Bob, already second-guessing the little make-out session, feeling he's done something wrong, was relieved when your words deterred his troubled thoughts.

“You're good, you're worthy, and you are so loved…” You wipe the remaining tears with the back of your hand. "If you ever take anything from this conversation, Bob, let it be those three words. You deserve to be wanted. To be happy, to be loved…"

[gayasswitchbitch]

Searching for Warmth| Ace x F! reader.

Synopsis: It’s freezing ass cold and you can think of only one person that can help.

Warnings: none brah

It was a late night on the Moby Dick. You could hear the ship gently rocking through the waves, and a few snores coming from the room next door. The only thing lighting the room as you tried to doze off, was a candle on the night stand that had burned down to its end. It would be a peaceful night had it not been for the fact that it was absolutely freezing. Lying in bed, you’re tossing and turning, trying to find warmth in any way you can. Your eyes flicker to the candle. ‘Not much left. When it goes out I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it anymore. What will I do?’

As if the universe heard, and hated you, the candles flame gave out. Shivers run down your spine. There’s no way you’d make it through the night like this. It was just too cold. ‘Ace better be feeling real lucky right now.’ You think. ‘Must be nice to have fire powers.’ Suddenly, you get an idea. Is it a good idea? Probably not, but you’re desperate. You decide to ask Ace. ‘He’s so warm, just a hug will do.’ You roll yourself off the bed, wrapping the blanket around you. There’s no way you’d be leaving without it, and make your way to his room.

The hallway is dark and ambient. Not a soul in sight as you walk to Aces room. How the hell is everyone sleeping through this?’ You grumble to yourself.

Upon reaching Aces room, you can see he has a light on. ‘Thank gods hes awake!’ You think.

Knock, knock, knock.

Not but a second later you hear his voice calling from inside. “Come in!” He yells. He figured it would be Marco there to scold him for being up so late. Something about it being bad for your health. He didn’t expect to see you there when the door opened. He’s sprawled out on his bed. His hair disheveled, comic in hand. “Y/n?” He asked excitedly, throwing it to the side. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He hopped off his bed and grabs your hand with one of his and uses the other to gently shut the door behind you both. In truth he just wanted to hold your hand, but he’ll say he was just helping you in.

You sigh. “Okay.. this might sound a little weird okay..”

Aces brows furrow. He’s intrigued. “Yeah? What’s up?” He’s standing across from you and it’s like his eyes are sparkling in the light. It makes your eyes wander to his buff arms down to his shirtless chest and how toned it is. How are you supposed to not make this weird when he looks so pretty? Ace thinks you look just as cute. Your hair is messed up as well, cheeks round and a little red from the cold. He thinks you’re the most adorable thing he’s seen.

“So.. it’s really freaking cold tonight and I can’t sleep because of it and I guess I was wondering if you could give me a hug for just like one second so I could warm up? Please?” He’s silent, like he’s thinking and suddenly you’re too nervous to be in his room anymore. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough and as you try to turn to the door to leave Ace suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you back.

“Wait! Of course I’ll warm you up but I don’t think just a hug is gonna do it.”

You look at him confused. What did he mean? A hug should be enough. His body is scalding all the time so it should be enough to hold you over until morning.

“Come here.” He says pulling you to him. Your face is right in his chest and he smells of bourbon. Ace starts to unravel the blanket. The cold air is hits you like a train.

“Ace! What are you doing?” You yelp. He answers by walking to the edge of the bed and flopping himself down, simultaneously bringing you with him. He lays on his side and without thinking you scoot yourself closer to cuddle to his chest again. He then warps the blanket around the both of you and squeezes himself closer while holding you.

He lets out a sigh of relief, like he had been the cold one. “Is that better?” He asks.

It’s a good thing he’s holding you so close. He can’t see the way your face is bright red, and it’s not due to the sudden heat. “Yes, but I only wanted a hug you didn’t need to do this.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t want you to be cold all night.” He chuckles and you notice his heart beating faster and his breathing is heavier.

“Your heart is pounding…”

He laughs. He had hoped you wouldn’t notice that. Seeing you looking so cute, like a sad little penguin waddling in here all bundled up, it drove him mad.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He laughs. “There’s a pretty girl in my bed and I’m nervous.”

You scoff at his words. You didn’t even want to be in his bed! (Liar) you only wanted a hug. “You’re the one that practically threw me on here!”

“Yeah yeah. I don’t see you complaining.”

[contamination-zone]

5 times Fresh acted like an animal, and 1 time Color 'Got it.'

[first chapter - prev chapter - next chapter]

beta read by @/calamarispider

[UTMV fic] Contains: Platonic Fresh & Color, Fresh & Killer, and Color & Killer, misunderstandings, abuse, food warning [forced to eat dog food] [4,000~ words]

“What would you do if you got out?” It took Fresh a moment to realize it hadn’t imagined Killer speaking. “Nightmare knows we all want out. Saying something to me can’t make this any worse with him.” “I don’t know, run off? Hide in a ditch? What do you want me to say?” Its voice got scratchier and more rough as it spoke, leaving it to end the sentence coughing. Killer was quiet as he watched it, his eyes those same empty black pits. “Okay.” He finally said. What was that supposed to mean? He believed it? Got what he wanted? Just felt like saying that? It stifled a growl and just silently followed him. 

Fic undercut or on ao3!

“You look tired.” From behind him; Killer, he recognized instantly.

Color turned to look at him, smiling something small, “how can you tell? You were looking at the back of my skull.”

The other didn’t answer, just slinking closer so they could settle their head on his shoulder, and their hand on his other. Color laughed; the slant of his shoulders told them all that? Trust his closest friend to always notice when he felt off.

“Is it really that bad…?” He asked. Sometimes it wasn’t. They were scarily observant, and when they pointed things out to Color, it wasn’t always something anyone else would notice.

His hopes were dashed when Killer huffed, annoyed, “Yes.” 

“Sorry about that…” Color said, lifting a hand to cup Killer’s cheek, “you know why.”

He leaned into the touch, but let his eyes fall half-lidded in a ‘done with this’ expression. “If I’d know you’d want to keep it, I wouldn’t have brought it here.”

“Hey!” Color chided, “don’t talk about Fresh like that. And I’m not ‘keeping it,’ it just… needs a little help getting on its feet. I’m sure it’ll strike out on its own when it’s feeling better.”

Killer gave him a piercing stare [it resembled all his other expressions, but Color could guess the intention]. He was still happy they felt comfortable enough to get snippy with him; it hadn’t been too long since Killer got away from Nightmare, and any agency they showed couldn’t help but make him smile.

“Okay,” he huffed, “even if it doesn’t, I’m happy to give it a place to stay. You know that.”

They wrapped their arms around his shoulders, more of a hug than the lean they were doing beforehand. “Yeah yeah, just the type of monster you are.” The words were blasé, nearly apathetic, but Color knew there was affection underneath. It made the guilt worse.

“Yeah.” It felt bad to agree, when he knew Killer clearly felt a little jealous of all the attention Fresh was getting, but he really couldn’t do anything else. Even without the six Soul’s influence, he didn’t think he could leave a monster to flounder without help, let alone one as clearly traumatised as Fresh.

“I’m going out tomorrow,” Color said, instead of any of the words he’d wanted to about duty or greater good, about how really, he was sorry, “just ah, to get clothes for Fresh. Want to come with?”

A silent stare, so he knew Killer was really considering it. Finally, just before he could take it back, affirm that Killer didn’t have to do anything they didn’t feel comfortable with, they answered, “sure, Color. Sounds good.”

He smiled. It’d be nice to spend some time with his best friend.

———

He woke early, because he knew he’d need that sort of energy.

Any type of routine was difficult to manage for him, after so long in a space without time or need for anything of the like, but he thought he’d been getting his morning routine pretty locked down lately. Brushing his teeth, getting dressed, cooking breakfast- all things he’d struggled with right when he got out of the void, but not as much these days. It made him feel good, that he’d made such clear progress, hopeful for those he was helping to be able to do the same.

Of course, there was more than just him who relied on that routine [probably the only reason he tried so hard with it]. With that in mind, he knocked on Killer’s door, letting him know breakfast was ready.

They were opening the door before he even stepped back, already awake and waiting. A little unsettling, but he knew Killer just liked to follow the routine they usually did, even if it wasn’t enforced at all; that meant, of course, leaving his room when Color went to fetch him for breakfast.

“Breakfast is on the table,” he told Killer, already moving to Fresh’s room. Killer followed him instead of heading to eat right away— a clingy mood already, probably because Color promised to hang out.

“Joining me?”

They gently pushed their shoulder to his as they walked, a silent confirmation. He smiled, “Got it.”

He gently rapped his knuckles against the door, with a warning that Killer would be joining as well. 

Fresh made an acknowledging noise, and he wondered if everyone woke up before him.

Just like always, when he entered it regarded him with wide eyes and an attentive posture. Nothing too nervous though, and he smiled at it, glad Killer’s presence didn’t seem to be a problem.

“Morning, Fresh.”

“G’morning.” It mumbled back. It eyed Killer and gave him a slight dip of its head in acknowledgment, to which they regarded it with a blank stare in turn. Neither seemed to be blinking.

“Ooookay-“ Color interrupted, “Got breakfast! Bacon and eggs good?”

It turned its attention right back to Color at that, giving him a shaky nod before standing up, silent in its movements. It was almost alarming how such a large and imposing monster just disappeared into the background. 

On the way to the dining table, Killer and Fresh regarded each other again with nothing but a quick meeting of eyes before their attention went back to him, and he wondered how well they knew each other from before they got out from Nightmare’s thumb. There had to have been a little affection on Killer’s half, else Color didn’t know why he’d decide to take Fresh with him at all. Neither showed it though, barely even acknowledging the other ever, so he wondered if his theory was wrong. Still, the little glances could mean anything. He knew they were both very clever.

They made it to the table before the silence got too awkward, and the three settled in to eat breakfast. He passed Killer the bottle of ketchup for his eggs before he asked.

“We’re, me and Killer,” he said, once they were all sat, “going out to buy you some clothes. Got any preferences?”

It shifted awkwardly at that, frozen with a fork halfway to its mouth. “Uh- I’m good with anything, man.” 

“It likes colorful things.” Killer said as Color was trying to figure out how to press for more info without spooking it.

“Killer,” he hissed, though there was no vitriol. While he did trust Killer to be right about things like this, he just… wanted Fresh to feel the agency of choosing to reveal facts about itself. Make it feel like what he got for it was its choice. 

Killer had no remorse on his face, though he did do a token, “sorry.”

He sighed, though didn’t push further. There was no was no way he’d be able to stay mad at him anyway, and they both knew it.

Looking back at Fresh, it had a pinched look on its face, eyebrows pressed downwards and mouth in a frown. When it noticed him looking, it quickly schooled its face into something more ‘open’ looking [though he doubted it really was].

“Were you confused on something?” He asked.

It was silent for a bit, but after a glance at Killer [for support?], it mumbled, “You ain’t mad? That sorry was sooo off base.”

There was a well of sadness in his chest at that. Did Fresh think he’d get angry at Killer and treat them as badly Nightmare assuredly was when he himself got mad at the two of them?

“No, no,” he reassured it, “I love Killer, he’s my best friend- I just got a little annoyed is all. And even if I did get mad, we’d talk it out.”

Fresh hummed, the picture of easy acceptance, but he could tell it was going to be mulling that over for a while underneath the surface. 

Coughing into its fist, it changed the subject, “I do like colorful things- brighter the better.” More shifting, eyes catching sneak peeks at him before skittering away. He made sure to smile encouragingly. It couldn’t keep eye-contact. “The sweaters you let me borrow were pretty rad too…”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled wide, something settled in him knowing he didn’t shove it into anything it didn’t want to be wearing. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to the collar at that, but he didn’t linger. Anytime it caught him staring it would clutch at the tag and press it close to itself— whatever meager comfort it brought to it, he would never understand. That was okay though, he wasn’t going to force the issue.

It nodded, shy, and didn’t say anything else, fully focusing its attention on breakfast. He didn’t press, letting it retreat out of the conversation.

Breakfast was done quickly and he was left feeling satisfied for more reasons than how good the eggs tasted. Progress was made today, which he was glad for.

Killer had already ambled out of the room, in the direction of the door most likely. Before Color left, he turned to Fresh.

“We’ll only be gone for a few hours, hope you don’t get too bored without us.” He laughed, “you have free reign of the house, just don’t go into either me or Killer’s rooms without a good reason, yeah?”

It nodded, giving him a thumbs up, “you got it. Same as always.”

He… did usually give the same spiral every time he left. “Sorry sorry, repeating myself here” He laughed, “I’ll get outta your hair. Bye Fresh.”

“Ah- see’ya.” It said, awkwardly.

He took that as his cue that he’d probably started to overwhelm it, and left to follow Killer out. 

He’d left it alone in the house a few times already— things were going to be fine, he reminded himself. 

Killer bumped shoulders with him as he got out, and he smiled, relaxing at the support. With his best friend at his side, things felt a lot more manageable. Maybe it really was going to be okay.

———pov: Fresh———

It woke to a kick to its side, and a sharp hiss from above ordering it to get up. It sounded like Killer.

The other must have been on pet duty. Usually he didn’t feel so energetic to it though. Maybe that was because it felt so awful today— it must’ve not woken up when he’d first tried to rouse it. Everything felt kind of hazy, a rare occurrence even though it just woke up; it was almost always quick to categorise its surroundings, it had to to survive.

His hand curled around its collar and dragged it up. Speaking back was usually useless, and it didn’t really want to deal with whatever power trip Killer was on, so it went limp. He wasn’t allowed to harm it too much, so it had some leeway to make his life difficult, at least until Nightmare got back from his trip and heard about its attitude.

This was doing nothing for the phantom of throat pain it was already dealing with, and it choked down any coughs. It needed to look unaffected— coughing and spluttering would be the opposite of that.

A pull, “get up.” The sharp words weren’t helping Fresh want to work with him anymore than the painful tugging.

Still, it noted something; a hint of genuine emotion colored his words. It hadn’t seen that with Killer often, the other usually a mask of empty cheer. “There’s even something innit for you.” He continued.

It regarded him with a half-lidded stare, asking, “What?” in a voice sounding a bit gravelly, and it forced itself not to cringe. Even after years away from its normal act, things that contradicted its image still got to it.

It tried to ignore the discomfort, focusing on the moment at hand, Killer’s offer. There wasn’t much that interested Fresh these days, except the possibility of escape; it highly doubted that was what Killer was suggesting.

“Got a special treat to go with your food today.”

Boring, bordering on insulting. Treating it like a mangy mutt excited for a bigger slice of meat, as if it wasn’t still going to be rotten.

“It’s going to be dog food either way.”

“Cat food.” Killer corrected.

It regarded him like he’d said something particularly stupid, but didn’t argue further. Whether it was dog food or cat food, neither made the idea of a treat alongside it any better. “Fine, fine. Lead the way, ‘boss’”

Killer didn’t take the bait like the other two would. Maybe he really didn’t care how similar to Nightmare he acted. He just pulled harder on its collar until it had no choice but to get its feet under it. At least it could be comforted by the fact Killer was going to be punished for leaving bruises on its neck.

Once up, Killer wasted no time in clipping its leash to the collar, before setting a brisk pace to the kitchen. A no-nonsense attitude. It was both better and worse than the others. They, at least, seemed uncomfortable interacting with it. Still, it meant there was less hesitance, that things would be over with quickly.

It wouldn’t have been able to keep pace if its legs weren’t almost double Killer’s in length. Normally it didn’t have trouble with that, but its joints ached and it felt a headache forming. It didn’t want to be doing this right now.

Its feelings on the matter didn’t matter though, not to anyone but Nightmare anyway [and he certainly cared about them in a way wholly unhelpful to it]. They found themselves at the entrance to the kitchen much quicker than Fresh would have liked.

Killer looped the leash around one of the many knots of stone and wood the castle seemed to  have in abundance [courtesy of being made by Nightmare, a plant adjacent… thing, Fresh thinks], and started prepping Fresh’s ‘meal.’

It hesitated to call it that. Meals were supposed to be alive, squirming, and, most importantly, containing magic. What Nightmare had scheduled it to eat whenever he was gone was not that, not in anyway at all. The cheapest dog or cat food one could buy, usually smushed up with a spoon and mixed with kibble. All served up to it in a little red dog bowl, only labeled ‘pet.’

Another way to demean it, Fresh was sure. When Nightmare was in, he’d only feed it new hosts or sweet treats Nightmare was enjoying himself. An association the guardian of negativity was trying to brute force into existence, that he meant it was getting fed real food. 

It stubbornly refused to wish Nightmare was here so it wouldn’t have to eat this horrid mixture while sick just to spite him, resolving to be extra awful to its ‘owner’ when he got back.

Of course, if Killer really was giving it a treat along with its dish, that could throw a wrench in things. It couldn’t see any reason Nightmare would want it to associate good things with anyone but him. 

It was shaken out of its thoughts by the sound of Killer setting the bowl down on the floor. It was the usual fare, though something about it seemed… off.

“And the treat?”

“It’s in there.” He pointed at the bowl of slop. So the treat was a lie. 

It huffed, but settled on the floor and picked up the bowl to start eating anyway. Killer, similarly, took a seat at the kitchen table.

It couldn’t really refuse to eat, even if the meal served no purpose further than making it suffer. Nightmare would be less than happy to hear it wasn’t following one of His orders. Egotistical prick.

It tipped the bowl and resolutely ignored as much sensory data as it could. It was the same as always, but it couldn’t help but think Nightmare got it the most putrid smelling wet food he could find because he knew its sense of smell was strong. Unfortunately it had no nose to pinch, so it just tried not to breathe until it was done. 

It could feel Killer’s eyes burning into it as it finished. The gaze didn’t wander as it coughed and gagged, nor when it pushed the now empty bowl back in his general direction. What a creep— not as bad as Nightmare, but that would be impossible.

There was a slight, almost imperceptible, sweet after-taste. It didn’t believe Killer would actually put a treat in, so maybe it was a placebo. It didn’t have time to linger though, because Killer was already wrapping the end of the leash back around his clawed hands. And well… tiny sweet aftertaste didn’t make up for the fact that the rest of it tasted rancid.

“What would you do if you got out?” 

It took it a moment to realize it hadn’t imagined Killer speaking, and another to understand he was talking to it. 

“What?” Fresh hissed, eyes narrowed. The words just screamed ‘trap.’ It would make the rest of the day make more sense too; Killer could definitely be trying to influence it into disobedience with the treat and the extra emotion in his voice could be from the stress of the plan. 

He didn’t respond, just looking at it with his awful empty eye-sockets. It glared back, spines raising as he didn’t elaborate or back down.

Eventually, seeming to realize he wasn’t going to get anywhere unless he gave in more, Killer said, “He knows we all want out. Saying something to me can’t make this any worse with him.” There was a gentle tug on the leash, a silent continuation it could practically hear in the air ‘and not answering could make things worse with Killer.’ 

“I don’t know,” it grumbled, annoyed, “run off? Hide in a ditch? Go back to eating people? What do you want me to say.”

Its voice got scratchier and more rough as it spoke, leaving it to end the sentence coughing.

He just hummed, and it felt like tearing something apart with its teeth. Would it kill someone for these people to say what they thought aloud? Did they get some sort of sick thrill in leaving it confused? 

“Okay.” He finally said. If it wasn’t so frustrated with the lack of information it had, it would find that fascinating. What was that supposed to mean, ‘okay.’? He believed it? Got what he wanted? Just felt like saying that?

It stifled a growl and just followed him silently. 

——

It couldn’t stop thinking about the day before Killer took it here, to live with him and Color. Looking back, the signs that something strange was going on were so obvious. He was just digging for information on how it would act once he took it here— see if it would be a good gift for Color, it now knew.

The fact that he did, took that short and angry response and decided it was worth it to steal it away as a gift for his… for Color, it didn’t know how that made it feel.

Insulted, to be treated like a commodity to pass around, or… it shook its head, it couldn’t be thinking about this right now. Already it could hear the gentle knock at the door; Color, coming in for their morning routine and inviting it for breakfast. 

It did as it was bid, replying with polite little one-word answers to all his questions, ignoring how Killer was at Color’s heels. Not regarding them with suspicion like it wanted too. Clearly he was Color’s favorite— it couldn’t get on his bad side.

It kept trading glances with Killer as they made their way to the table, wondering why he decided to follow so closely to Color’s morning routine to even follow him to its room. They gave nothing away, of course, and it nearly stuck its tongue out in annoyance. Nearly, of course, because it still didn’t know these monsters’ preferences, no matter its best efforts. Nightmare would have found the brattiness cute [except the times he very much didn’t], but it couldn’t get a read if the same would hold true for Color— and Killer, but he wasn’t in charge, so it didn’t care for his response much.

The meal turned awkward when a question aimed at it, and that it thought it’d answered… not well, but good enough, was answered by Killer as well. Color hadn’t said he wanted Killer’s opinion.

It froze, carefully still as if that would make it turn invisible. It barely kept in the stressed squeak when Color berated Killer and they gave an absolutely lacklustre apology; Killer was valuable, liked, Color’s favourite, so of course he wouldn’t punish him, but what if Color decided to take out his anger on Fresh instead…?

There wasn’t any type of explosion though, and Color didn’t even seem particularly angry. Just a bit miffed at Killer’s actions. That was- that was just weird!

The emotion must have shown in its face, because Color was asking if it was confused. It felt stupid, but quickly hid anything negative before it could get too annoying.

A response was probably still expected though. It looked at Killer, who didn’t seem stressed at all, and it nervously asked, “You ain’t mad? That sorry was sooo off base.”

There was something so soft on its owner’s face, it felt a little sick looking. “No, no,” he cooed at it, like it was a skittish animal, “I love Killer, he’s my best friend- I just got a little annoyed is all. And even if I did get mad, we’d talk it out.”

That was… really weird. Best friend privileges maybe? It really couldn’t see a world so nice to it that that courtesy would extend to it as well. The information was still useful though, so it stashed it away.

It couldn’t focus on that right now though, remembering the actual focus of the conversation. He’d appreciate it keeping on topic, hopefully. “I do like colorful things- brighter the better,” It mumbled, eyes darting towards him nervously as it tried to gauge his reaction. Neutral still, so it flaked on some flattery, “The sweaters you let me borrow were pretty rad too…”

There it was, a wide satisfied smile. It relaxed as it heard his next words, “I’m glad to hear that,”

Thankfully, it didn’t have to navigate any mine-fields as breakfast was finished and Color told it all the rules for when he was out.

“You have free reign of the house, just don’t go into either me or Killer’s rooms without a good reason, yeah?” He reminded it. He always mentioned the free reign of the house everytime, and it could hear a hidden order when it was given one— it would be expected to not be in its room when he was out. An easy enough task.

After some painfully awkward farewells, it skittered off to the living room and to the couch in front of the TV. It knew it was probably allowed on the furniture, but didn’t really want to do so when Color wasn’t there to invite it on.

Instead, it carefully settled behind the couch, pressed in-between it and the wall. Small and comfortable, a perfect place to wait until Color got back. 

It smiled to itself, feeling proud of how well it had been doing recently. Maybe it could even get as much affection and leniency as Killer. Maybe it could even get more. A pipe-dream, but… it wanted Color to look at it like that too.

Only for its safety of course. Having his affection, his attention, his soft smiles, gentle laughs— it shook its head before settling more comfortably behind the couch. Now was not the time for those thoughts; it didn’t know how it was supposed to compete with Killer and… it already lived a life more pampered here than nearly all its time with Nightmare. 

It let itself relax and get ready for its long wait. It liked this. It didn’t need to sully it with even more wants.

[kwanholic]

perfect — lee jihoon

pairing; bf!woozi x afab!reader

genre; fluff, smut (mdni!!)

word count; 1,0k

warnings; insecurities, petnames (darling, good girl, baby, babe), fingering, mirror sex, accidental(?) squirting, mention of a second round, idk lmk if i forgot something

a/n; i have no idea if this is good or bad i wrote this in the middle of the night😭😭 hopefully it’s good though!!

jihoon’s head turned around to look at you the second after another sentence criticizing yourself left your mouth.

he let out a deep sigh before standing up and walking over to the bed, sitting beside you.

you were sat in front of a mirror, jihoon now next to you. it had been a rough day for you already, and it seemed like you could find every small imperfection from yourself.

it started from complaining about things at work, then slowly moving to your personality, then to your looks.

jihoon’s hands caressed your arms as he looked into your eyes through the mirror.

“darling, you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever laid my eyes on. stop saying these things about yourself.”

he talked, his voice soft but a little raspy. your head dropped down, staring at your hands resting on your lap as tears started swelling in your eyes.

you felt jihoon press a soft kiss to the back of your head before softly holding your chin with his fingers to lift your head back up.

“cry if you feel like it, i’m here for you.”

he whispered. it was so sweet. he was so sweet.

after you heard him say those words, the tears started slowly falling down from your eyes, down your cheeks and chin.

he held you, his arms wrapped around you and his head softly resting on your shoulder. you were now sat in between his thighs, quietly crying.

his hands started moving, starting from your head and face.

“the most beautiful hair, eyes, nose and lips i’ve ever seen.”

he talked, his fingers softly touching your features. your soft skin was like silk under his fingers, so smooth and delicate. his hands slowly traveled down.

“your arms and hands are so pretty, i would hold them all day if could.”

his fingers softly traveled down your arms, giving you goosebumps. a small giggle left your mouth from the feeling. his hands then traveled down to your thighs.

“even your legs are so perfect, if i could, i would squeeze myself between them every day.”

“what?”

his last sentence left you speechless. it was so different from the other things he said.

“i said what i said…”

he just mumbled. you could see his slight smirk from the mirror, which made you laugh.

“not sad anymore?”

he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. you shook your head, now a smile on your face. his words really made you feel better. it was like magic.

“…i didn’t get to mention my favorite part about you yet.”

he said, his hands traveling higher, to the waistband of your shorts. you gasped, almost like you were shocked. you weren’t a good actor, though.

“jihoon… you’re so gross.”

you said and playfully slapped his arm. it’s not like you didn’t want it though. his touches had made you feel warm down where you thought you wouldn’t get to tonight, but guess you were wrong.

he pulled down your shorts alongside with your underwear, letting them drop onto the floor. he then made you wider your legs so he and you could see better.

it was embarrassing, really, how you were already wet without any touching. he even let out a small chuckle, almost like he was mocking you.

two of his fingers then appeared in front of your mouth, tapping at your lip. you opened your mouth and let them in.

“good girl, already know what to do before i even tell you.”

he smiled proudly before pulling his fingers our your mouth with a small plop sound. they traveled down to circle at your hole, making your body shiver.

“my favorite part about you… always so ready for me.”

he whispered in your ear, almost like it was a secret. his fingers suddenly pushed into you, making you let out a moan.

he pulled them out before doing the same thing again, again, and once again. once he felt like he finished toying with you, his fingers started moving in a constant pace. it wasn’t too slow, neither was it too fast.

“always so tight and wet for me, baby. could spend hours just pleasing you.”

he whispered again. he started leaving kisses on your neck while he kept his fingers plunging into you. they slowly started speeding up as he felt your hole pulsing and your breathing getting more heavy.

“close?”

he asked, his eyes locking back on yours. you nodded and closed your eyes shut. the feeling was so intense, so good. it was like he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. he knew where to touch you, how to touch you.

“eyes on me, babe. i wanna see you while you cum.”

his words made your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him once again through the mirror. he had a soft smile on his lips.

what a jerk, you thought. he was here finger fucking you with that stupid cute face of his. his fingers moved just an inch, now hitting your g-spot.

“o-oh… ‘hoonie, don’t s-stop…”

you whimpered, your eyes fighting to stay open now. you were so close, so so close—

your orgasm hit you like a rock. it was so intense, even your vision went white for a second. as it finally turned normal, you leaned against jihoon’s chest.

you watched yourself from the mirror, seeing the big wet patch under you. your eyes grew wide as you stared, your hand slapping over your mouth.

“did i just squirt?…”

you asked quietly after a while, visibly embarrassed. your cheeks were bright red. jihoon just chuckled and nodded.

“but it was hot, i don’t mind. we can always change the sheets.”

you slapped his arm once again. he was so annoying. you didn’t even know you could do that, how did he do it?

“alright, pretty, should we get you cleaned up or do you want another round?”

he asked, flipping you over onto the bed, him now hovering over you.

[ysrjune]

𐔌♡ ˖ ࣪ HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, BABE.⠀ ‹𝟹

err smut at the end but it's not cray cray

It was your 5th Mother's Day this year. Scott went out with his dad and Leo two days early to find a gift for you and his mother. They went to Target, walking around the cards section first. "All of these cards are so corny and stupid." Scott says after reading one and putting it back. "I'm gonna make my own."

"Daddy! This one!" Leo runs up to his dad with a card in his hands. "This one! This one for Mama!" Scott takes the card and immediately catches on to why Leo wanted him to pick this one out so bad. Because it had a yellow duck on it. Leo loves ducks. He loves any animal, really. "You wanna give this one to your mama? Are you sure?" He looks down at his son. Leo smiled wide and nodded his head enthusiastically. "Okay, I guess."

Scott's father had gone on his own around the store to find a few other things. Leo had his arm up just a little bit while holding his dad's hand as they walked around looking for more things. "What if we make her a basket? Girls like that kinda stuff, right?" He asks Leo. "Yaaaaaaa." The small boy responds. "Mama lovesss when you spend money on her." It was true, but Leo was sort of making you sound like a gold-digger. The truth behind this was that Leo liked when Scott spent money on you. Neither of you knows why, but it just makes your baby happy.

Leo picked out chips and candy, and Scott chose a pretty necklace and bracelet. They got home and went into Leo's room to put the basket together. "Mommy is gonna love me so much for this." Leo giggles and puts the chips in the basket. "Um.. I think you mean us." Scott furrows his eyebrows. "No. Me." Leo responds and pokes his tongue out. "Mommy looovesss me."

"She loved me first, jackass." Scott chuckles and gently flicks the boys forehead. When the basket was finished being assembled, they decided to hide it under Leo's bed. "You have to keep your big mouth shut about this, okay? Don't tell Mommy. This is a surprise." He ruffles Leo's hair and heads to his room.. with Leo following behind so that he could cuddle up to his dad.

—

It was the morning of Mother's Day. Scott woke up early and turned to his side to stare at you. "Hey, wake up." He rubs your shoulder. "Wakeee uppp." He slightly shakes you. You whine and shake your head. "It's too early." Scott sighs and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, nose, and lips. "Wake up noww!" He whines back, continuing to kiss you.

You giggle and finally give in. "Okay, what?" You open your eyes and rub the sleepiness away. "Happy Mother's day, beautiful." He tells you and then leaves a kiss on your lips once more.

"Thank you."

Now it was time for breakfast. You and Scott got dressed from your pajamas and into regular tshirts and sweats. "Can you wake Leo up?" You ask Scott. "Yeah, be right back." He stretches and makes way to your son's room. "Leo-Oh. You're awake." He chuckles, watching as the boy jumped up and down on his bed. "Is mommy awake? I wanna give her the basket!" Leo smiles excitedly. "And what about Grandma? Don't you wanna give her the thing you made at school?" Scott walks over to the drawers to find Leo an outfit.

"Yes but I wanna see mommy first!" He continues jumping. "Mm, okay. We gotta get your dressed first though, kid." Scott throws a shirt and shorts at the boy. "Hey!! Be nice!!" Leo laughs and immediately starts changing. "Nah, I'm not nice to ugly little boys." Scott smiles. "You're ugly." Leo laughs and tugs the shirt over his head.

After getting ready, Leo ran out of his room with the basket in his hands and went to your room. "MOMMYYY!!" He yells and holds the basket up to you. "Look, look! Me and daddy made it for you!!" He had the happiest look on his face. "Really?" You smile down at your son and then at the basket. "Thank you baby, I love it!" You bring Leo to your lap and kiss him. Scott leaned against the doorframe, watching with love in his eyes. "Thank you." You mouth to him.

—

Your father and mother in law were down in the kitchen, already eating. "Happy Mother's Day, darling." Scott's mother stands up and walks over to you when you walk in. "Happy Mother's Day." You smile and hug her. "Here, I got you this." You give her a necklace with her birthstone on it. "Oh, thank you." She smiles and kisses your cheek. "I still have your gift in my room, I'll go get it."

His dad hugged you and wished a happy Mother's Day and then served you and Leo a plate. "What about me?" Scott scoffs. "You're a grown man." His father smirked to annoy Scott. It was always like this, honestly. His father served everyone in the house but him. It was funny. The gift your mother in law had given you was a heart locket and the picture inside was of you and your small family.

The whole day afterwards was perfect. You all got ready and went to the mall and then went to a movie and lastly, dinner. Then it was time to get back home. It was late, so Leo was fast asleep. Still, you had to be quiet.

Scott fingered you that night. Real good. That man knows how to use his fingers. Long and slim. Always digging into the right places. That wasn't all, though. He replaced his fingers with his dick and his mouth. It was good, but it wasn't the best you ever had from him. If nobody was home, it would have been a whole different story. It was still really good and he loved you. That's all that mattered.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Florida Kilos | Pairing: Jason Duval x Ex!Reader | Author's Note: I need GTA VI neeoowwwwwwww!!!!!!! I NEED JASON DUVAL NOW!!!!! "THEY REHEATED THE ARTHUR MORGAN NACHOS!!!!!!" I scream as they drag me away to the asylum.

Jason Duval had a buzzcut now.

You noticed it before anything else, before the thick new muscle on his frame, before the gold chain catching light against his tan skin, before the way his arm was slung a little too casually around her waist. His hair — the long, sun-streaked mess you used to tug on when things got heated — was gone. Shorn down to the scalp like he was trying to erase the kid you used to know.

And maybe he had.

Because Jason wasn’t playing small-time in the Keys anymore. No, not with Lucia on his hip — the Lucia you’d heard whispers about, the one with the sharp mouth and sharper instincts, the kind of woman who didn’t play second to anyone.

Your stomach turned when you saw them, all wrapped up in each other like they owned the place. Lucia’s eyes were always moving, clocking everyone in the bar, but when her gaze slid over you, it was indifferent. Like you weren’t even a blip on her radar.

Jason, though — he wasn’t so smooth.

His eyes locked on you, and for half a second, that cocky grin twitched. Like he wasn’t expecting you here. Like maybe seeing you knocked him off balance just a little.

You let your eyes drag over him, slow and deliberate.

“Buzzcut, huh?” you muttered, stepping close enough that only he could hear. “Guess you really are trying to pretend the Keys never happened.”

Jason’s jaw tensed. That familiar tick in his temple. “Maybe I just got tired of dragging around dead weight.”

You almost laughed. “Is that what you call it now? Dead weight?”

Your eyes flicked to Lucia, then back to him. “Tell me, Jason — does she know you used to cry every time you busted up your hand? Or is that another thing you shaved off with the hair?”

Lucia’s brows lifted, finally paying attention. Jason’s hand on her hip tightened, subtle but there.

“You should walk away,” he said, voice low, dangerous in a way that used to thrill you but now just made your blood boil. “Before you say something you can’t take back.”

You stepped in, chest nearly brushing his. “Already did. Three years ago on that damn dock, remember? Or did you buzz that out too?”

For a split second, the whole room felt like it held its breath.

Jason’s lips curled into a sneer, but behind it — deep behind it — there was that flicker. That heat. That unfinished business that no amount of new girlfriends, new cuts, or new crimes could kill.

Lucia’s hand slipped down to his wrist, subtle but firm. Possessive. Like she could feel the shift in him too.

You smirked. “Didn’t think so.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, letting the weight of your words hang in the humid air. You didn’t look back — but you could feel his eyes burning into you as you walked away, every step stoking that slow, simmering fire you both pretended was dead.

You barely made it past the neon flicker of the bar’s open sign before you heard heavy footsteps behind you — fast, clipped. Jason.

“Hey.”

His voice snapped through the night, sharp enough to stop you in your tracks.

You turned slow, arms crossed like armor. “Took you long enough.”

Jason was on you in seconds, close enough that the heat radiating off him made your skin prickle. The ocean breeze did nothing to cool the air between you.

“You really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” His jaw was tight, eyes dark and storming. “Had to start shit in front of her.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry — did I mess up your little power couple moment? My bad.”

He stepped in closer, chest brushing yours now. That chain around his neck caught the light again, glinting like a warning.

“You think this is a game?” he growled, voice low enough that it rumbled through your ribs. “Lucia doesn’t play. You open your mouth like that again, and she’ll—”

“What? Finish what you started?”

You tilted your chin up, meeting his glare head-on. “Go ahead, Jason. Let her come for me. At least she’d be honest about it.”

His nostrils flared. That vein in his neck jumped — the same one you used to trace with your fingers when you still loved him, before all this turned toxic and ugly.

For a beat, neither of you moved.

The only sound was the muffled bass thumping from inside and the distant lapping of the waves.

Then Jason swore under his breath, voice cracking just enough to give him away. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

You smirked, sharp and mean. “Always did.”

His hand shot out, palm flat against the wall beside your head — not touching you, but caging you in. His chest heaved, close enough now that you could smell the mix of cheap cologne and sea salt, and under that, something familiar. Him.

Your breath hitched, just for a second. Mistake.

Jason caught it, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and back up.

His jaw clenched. “You don’t get to look at me like that.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips — reflex, but it made his eyes darken. “And yet, here you are. Chasing after me.”

His other hand twitched at his side like he wanted to grab you, shake you, maybe kiss you — maybe both. You weren’t sure which one you wanted either, and that was the real problem.

“I should go back inside,” he muttered, but he didn’t move.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “You should.”

Neither of you moved.

The air felt thick enough to choke on. Your heart slammed against your ribs, traitorous and loud.

Jason leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed your ear when he spoke. “Next time you pull that shit… I won’t let you walk away so easy.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “Next time, maybe I won’t.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, something dangerous flickering there — something old and raw and very, very alive.

Then, like a switch flipping, he straightened, scrubbing a hand over his buzzed scalp like he could shake you off.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked back inside, leaving you alone in the sticky Florida night, pulse racing and every nerve on fire.

He could still feel it sometimes — the ghost of your fingers threading through his hair, slow and lazy like they had all the time in the world.

Back then, they did.

Back before everything got complicated. Before the money, the jobs, and Lucia.

Your legs were slung over his, bare skin sticking to his thighs in the sticky Keys heat. You sat sideways on his lap, one hand absently twirling a piece of his long, sun-bleached hair while the other traced idle circles on his shoulder.

Jason leaned back against the rickety porch chair, grinning like an idiot as he watched you squint against the late afternoon sun.

“Y’know,” he drawled, voice thick with that lazy contentment he never found anymore, “you’re real bossy for someone who’s technically not my wife yet.”

You paused, fingers caught in a tangle of his hair. Your eyes narrowed, amused. “Yet?”

Jason smirked, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. He reached up, caught your wrist, and tugged you closer until you were pressed up against his chest.

“Ok, Mrs. Duval,” he teased, voice warm and rough around the edges.

You snorted and shoved at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

But he just laughed — full and loud, the kind of laugh that used to bubble up easy around you.

“Nah, I’m serious,” he said, grin softening into something more real. His hand found your hip, fingers curling there like they belonged. “You’d look good with my name. All official and shit.”

You stilled against him. The banter dropped a little, tone shifting like it always did when he got too close to the thing they never quite said out loud.

“Jason,” you warned, voice quieter now. “Don’t say that if you’re not gonna propose. That’s messed up.”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened — cocky but earnest in that dumb, dangerous way he had.

“But I will,” he said simply. Like it was fact. Like there was no world where it didn’t happen. “One day. I swear.”

You rolled her eyes, but he felt the way your body softened just a little like part of you wanted to believe him. Like maybe you did.

“Sure, Duval. I’ll believe it when I see a ring.”

Jason just laughed again, tipping his head back against the chair, letting your fingers go back to weaving through his hair like they were stitched into him.

And in that moment — sun setting, beer bottles clinking somewhere in the background, your weight warm and solid on his lap — he meant it. He really fucking meant it.

But now, standing outside some grimy Vice City dive with Lucia waiting inside, Jason could only feel the phantom sting of that promise.

Because he never did buy that ring. Never made her Mrs. Duval.

And judging by the way she looked at him tonight — all sharp edges and bitter heat — she remembered that too.

[matchalovertrait]

At Antonio's office, Dulce asked for help with a shared custody agreement for Cosi between her and Caruso. Antonio found the idea absurd, but he wanted to make her happy. He drew up a contract that worked entirely in Dulce's favor and could be terminated at any time. It's Caruso- and Isabela-proof.

Dulce and Caruso believe this arrangement could work out long-term despite their complicated history. Cosi is relatively chill, and it would be nice to travel without always finding a sitter for her.

NOTE: Of course agreements like this often don't work out in the real world, but this is the route we're going! Don't worry, Cosi will be perfectly happy and okay. I promise <3

NOTE: Shout out to @authorspirit who was hoping for an agreement like this! It's like you read my notes with ideas 😂 I was itching to finally get to this post and publish it.

NOTE: Of course, Buttercups is from @abbysimsfun's Sims in Bloom story! Antonio, "the lawyer," was in this post.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

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Transcript

The Caruso Residence

[Caruso gently picked up Cosi as she wagged her tail.]

CARUSO: Hey, Cosi. I missed you, too.

[He laughed softly, as if in disbelief.]

CARUSO: I thought maybe you would have forgotten me by now.

DULCE: Remember, I can end the agreement at any time. If we see that switching between houses is hurting her, then we’ll forget about everything.

CARUSO: Yup!

DULCE: Also, don’t forget: if she spins around counterclockwise, that means she ran out of water. And if she’s barking at 10 PM-

CARUSO: -it’s because she’s telling you it’s her bedtime and needs complete darkness. I know. Alegría, you’re acting like I never took care of her. C’mon.

DULCE: I know, my bad.

???: Excuse me.

DULCE: Who is that?

CARUSO: Because of the compensatory damages, legal fees, and brib- I mean, and my dwindling subscriber count, I can’t afford this ginormous house that I bought on a whim. So, I had to rent out the other bedrooms. It’s all good.

DULCE: Why not sell the house instead, genius?

CARUSO: No way! I already got attached to it.

DULCE: I guess that’s fair. It is a nice place.

CARUSO: Yeah, you would know, wouldn’t you?

DULCE: Take the compliment.

[“And shut up,” she wanted to add.]

DULCE: ....I’m happy for you?

CARUSO: Thank you.

DULCE: Never mind, I take that back! I’m not convinced. I know you’ll never do anything to Cosi or use her against me, but I have to keep my eye on you. You’re a wild card.

CARUSO: Seriously?? Okay, fine. I’ll formally apologize for everything.

DULCE: Fantastic, I’d love that.

CARUSO: Hold on, I’m trying.

DULCE: ...

CARUSO: Any second now.

[“Oh my gosh, he’s full of crap!” she thought.]

DULCE: Ahem... Well... As I’ve learned, an apology without real change is meaningless. So if you can’t say one, I hope you at least turn things around, Caruso.

CARUSO: I’m sensing angry energy from you. Do you want to try some breathing exercises that I learned on the retreat?

DULCE: I’m fine.

DULCE: By the way, the lawyer went to a wedding, and he met the family that owns Buttercups. Pretty cool, right?

CARUSO: Really? Wow!

DULCE: Besides the PI info, he also got their contact info in case Cosi wants to do a commercial. What do you think? Since you’re her other parent.

CARUSO: Sounds good to me. She’ll be a star!

DULCE: I’ll go now. Bye-bye, Cosi. I’ll see you soon. Be good – or not. Give this guy hell for all I care.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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It’s pouring. 

You look up towards the sky, lips twisted into a grimace. Of course, you already knew it would be raining, but it really is strange to see everything play out, down to the smallest details. The weather was predetermined. Regardless of your influence, things like that can’t change. The creator of the story wanted to set the tone by making the day as gloomy as possible, and clearly, it’s working, because you feel more unnerved by the second.

“Our window confirmed the cursed womb’s existence roughly three hours ago,” Ijichi explains. “Once roughly 90 percent of people inside were evacuated, the detention center was closed off. Citizens close nearby have also been evacuated.” 

“What’s a window?” Itadori frowns. 

“It refers to someone with the ability to perceive curses. They will often notify us of a cursed spirit’s appearance. However, they aren’t sorcerers themselves.”

Man. Knowing what lies inside that facility, being a window is starting to sound really good right now. 

Unfortunately, it looks like you’re fated to be a sorcerer. Thanks a lot (not), isekai gods.

“Moving on,” Ijichi continues. “Detainee Block 2. Presently, five inmates are still trapped inside with the cursed womb. If this cursed womb is the type that can metamorphose, we predict it will become a special-grade cursed spirit.”

Both Fushiguro and Nobara wear stern expressions, because they clearly understand the gravity of the situation. Itadori, however, doesn’t know any better, and looks as laidback as ever.

Which is ironic, because once all of you are inside, he’s the one who’s going to be dealt the worst hand. By far. 

Nothing’s even happened yet, but the knowledge of what’s about to unfold makes you feel guilty beyond repair.

“Hey, so, I still don’t really understand what special-grade means,” Itadori says. Fushiguro and Nobara both grimace, of course, and Itadori leans closer to you with an inquisitive look on his face. “[Name], do you know? Well, I guess this is all pretty new to you too, so probably not.” 

Unfortunately, you do know what it means. 

You know it all too well. 

“I-I’m not sure,” you nervously brush off. “But they used the term special-grade to refer to Sukuna as well, right? So I’m assuming it probably describes a cursed spirit that’s… really strong.” 

Ijichi nods. “Yes, I suppose that’s the general idea. In any case, allow me to explain in a way that even idiots would be able to understand.” 

Alright, damn, Ijichi. You didn’t have to come for us like that. 

“First off, we have fourth-grade. If I could use an analogy, even a wooden bat would suffice to defeat them. For third-grade, if you were to have a handgun, you can rest easy. Second-grade. It’d be a close call, even with a shotgun. First-grade. Most likely, even a military tank wouldn’t be enough. Then we finally reach special-grade. How can I put this… let’s say you might stand a chance of winning if you were to repeatedly carpet bomb the curse. And even then there’s no guarantee.” 

Itadori’s jaw drops open. “Wait, so… isn’t that really bad?!” 

“Normally a sorcerer on par with the curse would take on the mission,” Fushiguro sighs, massaging his brow. “But since Gojo is still away on business, it can’t be helped.”

“Our line of work is always lacking in manpower,” Ijichi nods gravely. “You will often have to undertake missions beyond your capabilities. This particular case is truly abnormal, and hence, why it urgently requires our attention. You are not to fight, under any circumstances. When confronted by a special-grade curse, your only options are to run or die.”

Run or die, huh…? What a lovely pep talk. 

Naturally, none of this comes as a surprise to you, but now that you’re actually here, standing right outside the detention center, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting cold feet. 

Actually, even that’s an understatement.

You’re scared shitless right now.

“Please, listen to your fears,” Ijichi advises. “And above all else, remember that your mission here is strictly the verification and rescue of survivors.”

His words are a harsh reminder as to just how dangerous this new world you’ve found yourself in is. 

Well. Better than Attack on Titan, you suppose.

“E-Excuse me!” 

There’s a woman calling out to you. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is, and the sound of her voice alone is enough to make your stomach twist into a knot.

“Tadashi… my son,” the woman mumbles, tears in her eyes. “Is my son okay…?”

You can see the way Itadori’s chin trembles, and you can tell that his heart aches having to watch this poor mother fear for her son’s life. He hates seeing others in pain. This must be eating him up inside.

And the same goes for you.

Because you know that Tadashi is already dead.

“Please step back,” Ijichi says, facing the woman with a solemn expression. “There’s a possibility that someone has spread poisonous gas throughout the center. We cannot share any more detail at this time.”

The woman just stands there at first, rigid and unmoving, but gradually, more tears fill her gaze, and she crumples to the ground, breaking down into a full-blown sob. She wails and wails, asking why in the world this has to happen, and begging for someone to bring her son back to her. 

The more he watches her, the more Itadori’s expression darkens. He isn't his carefree self anymore. There’s a fire blazing in his eyes. 

“[Name], Fushiguro, Kugisaki,” he says. “Let’s go. We’re… going to save everyone.” 

Nobara furrows her brows, but agrees with Itadori without so much as a second thought. Fushiguro is every bit as stoic as ever, but even he nods slightly. Every single one of them is fully intent on going in there to rescue the survivors. 

You’re the only one. The only one who knows that what lies inside is nothing but a gruesome massacre. There isn’t anyone left to save.

And what’s even more depressing is that you have to pretend like you think they actually have a chance. 

“Y-Yeah,” you nod weakly. “Let’s… do our best.” 

Igichi directs all of you towards the entrance you’re using, and he proceeds to bring down a Veil, which will conceal all of you from the outside world. This is necessary, for obvious reasons. The average person doesn’t even know that curses exist, after all.

“Whoa, it got dark all of a sudden,” Itadori marvels. “That’s so cool!” 

“God, you’re ignorant,” Nobara scowls, rolling her eyes.

Fushiguro sighs and brings forth his Divine Dogs. Just one of them for now. The fluffy white wolf, and he lets out an adorable little awoo as he manifests. Truly the goodest boy. 

“He’ll let us know if the curse gets close,” Fushiguro says. He motions to keep advancing, but nobody follows him right away, on account of the fact that all of you are busy petting the fluffy good boy.

“[Name], he seems to really like you,” Itadori grins. “Look! He’s so affectionate!” 

“I see doggo, I pet doggo,” you respond matter-of-factly. Sure enough, his tail seems to be wagging a good deal, and he repeatedly nuzzles his cute little snout up against your body. 

Can’t we just pretend this mission doesn’t exist and play with the fluffy sweetheart instead? 

“We need to get moving,” Fushiguro sighs, and he goes as far as to grab you by the wrist and start pulling you along. The white wolf follows closely by your side, occasionally peering up at you as if he’s hoping for more pets. He’s absurdly cute, especially when compared to the horrific situation you’re about to walk into.

You take a deep breath to compose yourself as the doors open. Fuck. Is it really too late to run away? Gojo isn’t here right now. Maybe you can flee the country somehow. Get far, far away from all the craziness that has yet to unfold. You’re starting to have second thoughts. You really don’t know if you can do this. You don’t know if you have what it takes to see that thing from close up.

In the canon series, nobody died. Itadori was able to survive thanks to Sukuna, and Fushiguro and Nobara were able to escape relatively unharmed. 

But where do you fit into this? It’s already clear that things can—and will—change. What if something goes terribly wrong? In that case…

You’re dead. 

“...[Name]?”

Itadori gently nudges you, expression rife with concern. You didn’t even realize that you were shaking so much. Even Fushiguro and Nobara must have noticed, based on the way they’re looking at you. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, swallowing hard. “I’m just a bit scared. I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to hold anyone back.” 

“It’s going to be okay,” Itadori reassures, and perhaps it sounds a bit silly, but just those few simple words—coupled with his warm smile—help ease your tremors. He grabs your hand for a moment and gives it a light squeeze. “We can do this. I’ll be right by your side the whole time. I promise.”

Nothing is a guarantee. You already know that. Still, Itadori’s words aren’t just for show. If he says something, he means it.

Thanks to him, you feel a little bit braver. 

“Wh-What’s going on in here?!”

Now that you’ve all stepped inside, everyone is rightfully taken aback. You were supposed to have walked into a two-story dorm for the inmates. What lies before you is an unimaginably large space. Much larger than what the building could ever fit inside. 

“It’s an Innate Domain made from cursed energy,” Fushiguro says, unable to keep his eyes from widening. “The dormitory expanded in size. Even so, it’s my first time seeing one this big. Wait! The door—!” 

It’s long gone. You knew from the moment you stepped inside that you wouldn’t be able to backtrack. Of course, there is a way of getting out of here. It’s just that the exit has changed. 

“Don’t panic,” Fushiguro says—even though Itadori and Nobara are doing exactly that. “This guy remembers the smell of the place we entered from.” 

He gestures to the white wolf, AKA super good boy, who is already wagging his tail and looking up at you expectantly. 

You grin and pet his head. “That’s amazing! You’re so strong and smart, aren’t you? If it was up to me, I’d be feeding you all the treats you could ever ask for.” 

“Take this more seriously, please,” Fushiguro mutters. “Even if we’ll be able to find our way out, it doesn’t make the situation any less serious.” 

“But it’s okay, since you’re so reliable,” Itadori grins, also petting the doggo. 

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Fushiguro’s the kind of guy you can always depend on. Thank you for looking after us. And for letting me play with your cute wolf friend.”

Fushiguro doesn’t respond, and instead awkwardly averts his gaze. You can’t tell if he actually likes being complimented or not. He’s so stoic that it’s hard to read his expressions most of the time. 

“Let’s keep moving forward,” he finally says. You pet the wolf one last time, perhaps as a form of reassurance, because if memory serves correct… you won’t like what you’re about to find in the next room.

For more reasons than one. 

Itadori’s face instantly drops. Just as you anticipated, you’ve walked into the room with the dead inmates. Most of their bodies have been mutilated beyond recognition, save for one of them, whose torso and head are still intact. 

Horrified, Itadori reaches out towards the inmate and grabs onto the collar of his jumpsuit.

You don’t even have to get closer to know that the name tag reads Tadashi. 

The scene is gruesome, to say the least. Your stomach turns at the sight of such obvious brutality, and you quickly look away. But you aren’t just avoiding the image of blood and gore. You aren’t being overtly squeamish. 

Rather, you are frantically glancing all around the room, searching for the cursed spirit—because you know it’s here somewhere.

Where the hell is it hiding? How is it concealing its presence so well? Shit. You’re already shaking from head to toe, but the fact that you don’t even know exactly where it’ll appear from makes it a hundred times worse.

“I’m taking this body home,” you overhear Itadori mumble. “He’s that woman’s son. The one that asked us for help earlier. We weren’t able to save him… so the least we can do is retrieve his body for her. His face hasn’t been damaged much. I don’t think she’ll be able to come to terms with his death otherwise. And this way, he’ll be able to have a proper burial.”

Fushiguro pulls him back. “Leave the body. We still need to confirm if the other two people are alive or not.”

“Huh? Earlier, the entrance we used disappeared. If we walk away now, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to make it back later.” 

“I didn’t say we were coming back later. I said leave it. He’s not even worth saving when he’s alive. Why the hell would I save his dead body?” 

“Not worth saving?” Itadori gapes. “What are you talking about?” 

Fushiguro grits his teeth. “This is a juvenile detention center, you know. Jujutsu sorcerers are granted access to all information about the scene beforehand. That’s how I know that Tadashi guy hit a little girl while he was driving without a license. And that was already his second offense. I know you’re fixated on saving lots of people and guiding them towards proper deaths, but what will you do when someone you saved ends up killing someone else in the future?” 

The argument that ensues is one you’ve already heard, of course. They both have wildly different opinions on the matter, and whether you tell them to stop arguing or not, they probably won’t listen to you. In any case, you don’t have the luxury of paying them much attention right now. All of the nerves in your body are on high alert. You keep looking and looking, but you can’t for the life of you see any sign of the cursed spirit.  

The white wolf nuzzles up against your leg, and you pause before leaning down to pet his head again. 

“Do you sense it?” you ask nervously. “Can you… tell if the curse is nearby?”

He starts sniffing the air and glancing around. There’s no way to know exactly when the curse is set to appear. You don’t have a precise time frame for any of this. All you have is your own memory to rely on, and even that isn’t perfect. But surely it should show up any moment now, right? You feel like it was sometime in the middle of their argument… 

Suddenly, the wolf’s head turns, and by the time you follow his line of sight, it’s already too late.

The cursed spirit is right in front of you.

You aren’t even able to scream in time. It attacks, and if not for the wolf jumping in front to protect you, you’re willing to bet that you would’ve been decapitated. All you can do is jump back and hasten to put as much distance between you and the curse as possible, and only then do Fushiguro and Itadori realize what’s happening.

“My Divine Dog,” Fushiguro mumbles in disbelief. “Kugisaki’s missing, too. We need to… run! Itadori, [Name], we’re leaving right now!” 

If only you could. That cursed spirit is absurdly strong, not to mention fast. It isn’t special-grade for nothing. Before Fushiguro can say anything else, it appears right next to him and Itadori, close enough that it may as well be breathing down their necks. 

Itadori is the first to react. He instinctively brandishes his weapon and aims for the curse’s head, but you already know it’s pointless.

The next second, Itadori’s severed hand is lying on the ground, in a puddle of blood.

“Sukuna!” Itadori cries out. “I doubt I can escape in this state, and if I die, you’ll die too, right? If you don’t want that to happen, you need to cooperate with me!”

He won’t. 

“I refuse,” Sukuna responds, just as you predicted. “Even if the parts of me inside you die, I still have eighteen other fragments of my soul. That said, I’m not in control of this body. If you want to switch, go ahead and switch. But as soon as you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can. That other girl, too. The spunky one that was taken away. As for the last…” 

He stops himself before commenting on you. You’re not sure what he intended to say, but it hardly matters at this point. Itadori needs to be the only one left alone to fight the curse. You, Fushiguro, and Nobara will escape. And then everything will unfold the way it’s supposed to. There won’t be any casualties today. Even Itadori won’t actually die. As long as you run away now, it’s all going to be okay. 

Except you can’t run. 

Once again, the curse appears right in front of you.

Why…?! It came to me all of a sudden—

You’re forcefully blown back, hard enough that you collide against one of the walls. Out of sheer instinct, you managed to raise your hands as the curse struck you. You keel forward, vision blurry, gasping for breath and spluttering up blood. Your arms… are still intact. Earlier, Itadori’s hand got sliced off in one fell swoop. Is it because you subconsciously concentrated enough cursed energy around your body in order to minimize the damage? You still have all of your limbs, but your arms are shaking uncontrollably, and the skin where the curse hit you is bloody and raw. You swear you can feel your bones creaking.

Holy shit, it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! It hurts so bad that you’re tempted to cry, but all of the air got knocked out of you just now, and the most you’re capable of is a bit of strained, painful wheezing.

The curse purposefully attacked you just then. It was right next to Itadori and Fushiguro until just a few moments ago. Why did it divert its attention elsewhere? Why do all of these curses seem to come after you with a vengeance? Is it because they instinctively know you don’t belong here? Do they feel threatened by your inexplicable existence? 

God… you’re so scared.

“Fushiguro!” Itadori screams. “Take [Name] and Kugisaki and get out of here! I’ll hold the curse back until you leave this place. When you’re safely outside, give me some kind of signal, and then I’ll swap with Sukuna. That way, no one has to die.” 

Fushiguro stares at him in disbelief. “Are you an idiot? That’s a special-grade curse! You won’t even last long enough to bring out Sukuna before we escape!” 

“Look at it. That thing… it’s laughing. It’s totally underestimating us. I should at least be able to buy you guys some time.” 

“There’s no way you can—” 

“Fushiguro,” Itadori says, expression painfully resolute. “I’m counting on you.” 

You groan weakly, and Fushiguro casts a fearful glance towards you. He must realize you’re already in a terrible state. It’s a miracle you even survived just now. The sheer volume of your cursed energy is what saved you, but against an opponent as powerful as a special-grade, it’s no use if you don’t actually know how to fight.

So, he grits his teeth and rushes over to you, then picks you up and lifts you onto his back. You’re in so much pain that even just clinging to consciousness proves incredibly difficult, but the feeling of being pressed up against Fushiguro’s warm back fills you with relief. He’s going to take you and Nobara out of here. The nightmare is almost over.

Fushiguro runs towards the exit, already preparing to summon his other Divine Dog. You feel terrible having to leave Itadori behind. If you were stronger at this stage, strong enough to help him fight that cursed spirit, he wouldn’t have to suffer so much. You know that he isn’t actually at risk of dying, but still. You can’t help but lament your weakness.

That’s why you need to survive today. So that you can be there to help when countless other lives are on the line. It’s unfair that Itadori has to shoulder this burden all on his own. He’s going to experience a sense of fear and dread that can’t even be put into words. 

I’m sorry, Itadori. I promise to try and help another time. I’m just… too weak right now. I’m really sorry. 

You’re nearly out of the room. Safety is almost within your grasp.

But yet again, the future you know changes. 

The cursed spirit blocks your path. 

“Fushiguro!” Itadori screams—but it’s too late, because he’s nowhere near fast enough to keep up with that thing. It may as well be teleporting with how quickly it moves around. Fushiguro just barely manages to leap out of the way before it delivers an attack strong enough to decimate the spot where he was just standing. 

You splutter again, dust clogging up your lungs. Something feels completely and utterly wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The cursed spirit was supposed to have ignored Fushiguro and allowed him to escape, and instead focused all its attention on Itadori. But it’s barely even glancing Itadori’s way. 

It refuses to take its eyes off you. 

I’m not going to escape. 

A tear rolls down your cheek. If you try to run away again, along with Fushiguro… he’ll die. Itadori would have died without Sukuna’s help. The same is also true of Fushiguro. He’s not strong enough to take on that kind of opponent. No matter how many times he tries to escape with you, the curse will follow him. Relentlessly.

“Leave,” you mumble brokenly, and Fushiguro’s eyes widen, in visible disbelief. 

“What? But I can’t—” 

“It’ll chase after us. As long as I’m with you.” You slowly stand up, wincing as you do, and you hurry to wipe more tears away before they can fall. “Cursed spirits hate me. I can’t explain why. Every single one I’ve encountered gets aggressive when I’m nearby, and the weakest ones have outright fled because they can’t stand being close to me. Out of the three of us, this curse is most likely to attack me. That’s what my gut is telling me.” 

You should’ve known from the moment you found yourself in this world that you were far from lucky. Everyone dreams of meeting their favorite characters in the flesh, being able to talk with them, laugh with them, become part of their lives… but at what cost?

Either way, you already know one thing to be true.

From now on, until however long you manage to survive, your life will be filled with suffering. 

“Find Nobara, and escape together,” you say, doing your best not to let your fear show. You refuse to be the reason everyone dies. The two of them need to get out of here, at the very least. This is probably the end of the road for you. This is the most you were able to accomplish with this measly life of yours. 

If you’re going to die, at the very least, you don’t want it to be a pathetic death that leads everyone else to their demise.

“Just fucking leave already!” you cry out. “Why the hell are you still here?!” 

Fushiguro flinches, taken aback by your uncharacteristic harshness. He might seem cold at first, but you know that he cares deeply for people. He never wanted to leave Itadori by himself in the first place. The thought of abandoning both of you must make him feel like absolute shit. 

Still, he isn’t an idiot. He’s logical. Pragmatic. He knows not to let his personal feelings get in the way of important decisions.

And so, he runs.

You watch him disappear out the exit. As expected, the cursed spirit doesn’t bother trying to follow him. Even now, it’s still staring at you with that wide, disturbing smile. 

“[N-Name]?” Itadori stammers. “You… stayed behind? But why? You can’t be here! It’s too dangerous, you just can’t—”

“That thing won’t let me leave. Should I have put Fushiguro’s life at risk, too? It’s better this way. At least he and Nobara can escape. I refuse to drag them down with me.”

The cursed spirit continues to stare at you, cackling ever so often. You’re nowhere near as cool as you’d like to pretend to be. To think that you had all these plans, all these hopes and dreams of saving people from their gruesome fates, only to walk into death so soon. How embarrassing. You’re probably the single most pitiful isekai protagonist to exist. 

Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted. 

You suppose you’re going to die now. 

The cursed spirit launches itself at you, and like before, you instinctively bring up your arms, praying that you can coat yourself in enough cursed energy to avoid certain death. You’re blown back, just like last time, and you skid along the ground, gritting your teeth in an attempt to endure the pain. Your arms are looking bloodier and more fucked up by the second. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll even be able to move them for. 

“Leave [Name] alone!” Itadori screams, jumping to your rescue. Unfortunately, since he has yet to learn how to control his cursed energy, and he simply doesn’t have as much as you, he takes significantly more damage than you do.

He’s flung against one of the walls like you were earlier, but the cursed spirit doesn’t bother to finish the job and instead turns back towards you again. 

“Why?” you grit out. “Why are you so obsessed with me, you ugly freak? You’re not even my type!” 

The cursed spirit doesn’t laugh this time. It just stares at you, looking slightly unnerved. It must be wondering why your body isn’t as broken as Itadori’s. It seems frustrated with itself for not being able to kill you yet.

It attacks again. This time, it grabs onto you and slams you down into the ground. You wail out, almost positive that you’ve cracked a few ribs, and it proceeds to hold you in place, channeling what’s sure to be a devastating blow of pure, concentrated cursed energy. 

Shit. I think I might actually die now. This is so fucking scary. I don’t want to be here. I want to run away. I want to make it all stop. 

You bite back your tears and desperately try to remember that sensation from before, when you exorcized that curse in the abandoned building. It was a much weaker curse, without a doubt, but if you could just remember how you channeled your energy. If you could try to replicate that feeling, then maybe, just maybe, you might be able to inflict a bit of damage.

Even though it feels like all of your muscles are outright screaming at you, and your vision is clouding over more and more by the second, you manage to reach out your hand and place it against the curse’s body. 

In that moment, you envision being powerful enough to defeat your opponent. You imagine being as powerful as Gojo—no, Sukuna, even. You imagine a world in which you’re strong enough to protect the people you care about. A world in which everyone can survive.

What a beautiful world that would be. 

For a split second, you feel something similar to what you experienced before. A pulse of energy, something hot that courses through your entire body, in search of release. The cursed spirit is in direct contact with you, so your attack lands. 

Did it… work? 

You squint through your bleary eyes. The cursed spirit pulls away from you in a hurry and looks down at its arm, which appears distinctly burnt, as if it was just doused in flames. However, it clearly didn’t take that much damage. It’s still perfectly fine. 

Which means you failed. 

“Fuck,” you chuckle humorlessly. “I really thought I did something there.” 

The cursed spirit turns towards you again, angrily mashing its teeth together. Despite the fact that it’s still relatively unharmed, it clearly isn’t happy. It seems to be getting more offended by the second. Its ego must be huge.

Too weak to move after all the damage you’ve taken, all you can do is watch, hopelessly, as the cursed spirit raises its foot, no doubt imbuing it with more cursed energy than you can even fathom, and stomps it down right onto your arm.

You scream again. You’ve been screaming practically nonstop for the past few minutes. This time, your arm is broken. It feels like your bones have been completely pulverized and turned to dust.

It keeps punching and stomping on you, like some kind of little kid throwing a fit. With every blow you endure, the light in your eyes fades a bit more. You only made it this far because of some kind of glitch with your cursed energy. Sheer luck, essentially. But you aren’t invincible, and your body is starting to accumulate more damage than it can handle.

The cursed spirit lets out some kind of frustrated screech, and it stomps down on you one last time, breaking your other arm. 

You’re out cold now. The pain was too much for you to bear. You lie there, utterly defenseless, and as Itadori weakly hobbles towards you, he realizes your death is imminent. 

“No way,” he breathes, tears pricking his eyes. “Was I always… this weak?” 

He couldn’t do anything. The cursed spirit barely even paid attention to him. He may as well have been a fly buzzing around it. That’s how much of an afterthought he is. That’s how pathetic he turned out to be. 

And to think that he promised to protect you before. What a fucking joke. 

“Hey!” Itadori cries out. “I said, hey! Look at me, dammit! Look over here! I’m still alive, you bastard! Why don’t you leave her alone and finish me off instead?!”

The cursed spirit doesn’t even bother to turn its head. Itadori’s shoulders begin to tremble, and a sob escapes his lips as he’s forced to watch the curse dig its fingers into your hair and pick you up like some kind of ragdoll. You’re going to die. He can’t get over there in time, and even if he could, it wouldn’t make a difference. 

Itadori promised his grandfather that he would help people. And yet, he failed to help the person he cares about the most. He hasn’t even known you for very long, but you’re the closest friend he has. You met the last remaining family he had left. His grandfather adored you. 

How is he supposed to face him in the afterlife, if he lets you die here? 

Itadori has finally realized just how truly weak he is. Fushiguro hasn’t even given him the signal yet. Him and Nobara are probably still somewhere inside. If Sukuna finds them, there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to escape. But right now, he can’t think that far ahead. All he can do is focus on what’s right in front of him. 

He can’t save you. At least, not alone. 

“Sukuna. I’m going to switch over to you,” Itadori trembles. “But you… you have to save [Name]. You can’t let her die. You’ve always talked about being interested in her. You don’t ever shut up about her. There’s no way you would be okay with her dying here. Right? So, just… help her. Not for my sake. Do it for yourself. It doesn’t matter what your motives are, just… do it.” 

The cursed spirit prepares to deliver the finishing blow. It pulls his fist back, slowly building up more and more cursed energy. Its manic grin spreads out even wider as it readily anticipates your demise.

But then, it feels someone grabbing onto its arm, so it turns around. 

Only to realize that its arm has been fully ripped off. 

Sukuna stares at the cursed spirit, eyes dangerously narrowed.

“...did I give you permission to touch her?” 

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Cosmere Characters Watching Adventure Time

Cosmere + cartoons requested by anon. :)

Wind and Truth spoilers in the Adolin entry & the Rushu entry!

"Adventure Time" was a cartoon about Finn the Human and Jake the Dog, who went on fun adventures in the postapocalyptic wasteland they called home. It's a great show. Here's how I think Cosmere characters would to watching it!

1. Taravangian and Adrotagia

Taravangian: Princess Buttercup is definitely my favorite character. Taravangian: She's such a great ruler! Adrotagia: ...She does unethical experiments on her citizens all the time. Taravangian: Look, you don't have to convince me--she's ALREADY my favorite!

2. Kaladin

Kaladin: THAT'S what a dog is?? Kaladin: It seems like that dog in Wit's story could have stretched down into the well pretty easily... Kaladin: ...And that he could just shapeshift into a dragon whenever he wanted... Kaladin: ...Flying really wasn't off the table either... Kaladin: ... Kaladin: Wit's stories are truly inscrutable.

3. The Lord Ruler

Lord Ruler: I bet Kelsier NEVER would have been able to rally the people against me had I looked like an adorable penguin instead of a handsome man. Lord Ruler: Truly, Gunter knows more about being evil than I ever will.

4. Adolin and Maya [WIND AND TRUTH SPOILERS!]

Adolin: Storms, I wish MY arm could turn into a sword. Adolin: If I had armor for a leg AND a sword for an arm, I'd definitely be the coolest guy alive. Maya: Is grass really that strong, though? Adolin: Well, it is a fantasy after all.

5. Siri & Vivenna

Siri: Soooo, if you were in Adventure Time, what kind of princess would you be? Vivenna: What? Siri: Like, I think I would be Disco Ball Princess, with an outfit that refracts rainbows whenever light shines on it! Siri: Oooh, or Picnic Princess, and my dress is a picnic blanket and I have a magical basket that always dispenses picnic food! Siri: What about you? Vivenna: Uh.... the Blue Princess, maybe? Siri: Blue? Ha! Vivenna, I love you, but if you ever need an alter ego on another world, please try to come up with a more interesting name than "Blue"! Vivenna: ...I'll keep that in mind.

6. Dalinar & Navani

Dalinar: I feel a...kinship with the Ice King. Dalinar: He lost his memory & started hurting people. Dalinar: It was the other way around for me, but even so. Navani: ...Not all kings need to be an inspiration, gemheart. Dalinar: No, No, I really think I am onto something here.

7. Harmony & Marsh (yes, I'm sure they hang out)

Harmony: I thought I was pretty wild for including giraffes in my remade world. Harmony: But I can't believe I never thought of really small elephants! Harmony: Horses that can stand on balls and say their own names! Harmony: Sentient fire! Marsh: Maybe we shouldn't be watching this...

8. Yumi & Painter

Yumi: I think Marceline is my favorite because she reminds me of you! Painter: Really? I mean, she has a dark aesthetic 'n' all, but she's actually pretty cheerful and dorky! Yumi: [knowing look] Painter: ... Painter: Right.

9. Rushu [WIND AND TRUTH SPOILERS!]

Rushu: First, the Sibling... Rushu: Now BMO... Rushu: Two nonbinary icons? I can't keep winning!

10. Wayne & Marasi

Marasi: Wayne, are you crying?? Wayne: Yeah, a bit I guess. That Jake character just really gets to me, you know? Marasi: ...Because he maintains a relationship with a woman of another species while also getting to go on adventures with his best friend all the time? Wayne: ... Marasi: ... Wayne: ... Marasi: Or is it because you really wish you had stretchy powers? Wayne: I want them SO bad!

[makeitworse]

TONGUE

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfell as an angel just to please.

​† fem reader x sub jeongin. corruption kink. sacrilege. blasphemy. religious guilt. teasing & praise. smut (grinding). not proofread. 18+

you always knew he was different from the rest.

soft-spoken. gentle. heart full of devotion, gaze always turned upward, toward the heavens. toward something better than this. unreachable.

until he started looking at you the same way.

“jeong-in,” you whispered his name, mocking the way he used to say yours; so careful, like blasphemy under his breath.

it’s late, far too late for any decisions made to be good ones. but he still found himself before you: stood in the dimly lit hallway outside your dorm, silver cross sitting cold on his skin. his fingers twitched at his sides. he wasn’t sure whether his hands would fold, or perhaps reach out to touch you.

you made a show of dragging your gaze down over his body, flicking back up to meet his eyes. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

he knew he shouldn’t have come.

“i can’t,” he said softly, almost to himself. “this isn’t right. i told myself i wouldn’t…”

your brows furrow, taking notice of how red raw his lips were from biting the skin. you stepped forward, close enough for your chest to brush his— and his breath comes out shallow. he doesn’t budge.

“can’t what?” you asked, tilting your head. “want me?”

jeong-in flinches, but doesn’t deny it.

your fingers reach out for his face, touch ghosting over his jaw. “is that so bad?”

it’d been a singular kiss, tucked away in a dark classroom corridor. for weeks he’d been practically undressing you with his eyes under that timid demeanour— gaze lingering on your curves, chewing on his lip as he stared. shifting in the chair next to yours, slyly readjusting his pants.

you thought you’d do him a favour, ease his repressed feelings. then maybe he could start to feel some peace of mind.

clearly, you’d only opened the gateways of something much more carnal buried in him.

your fingers danced over the cross at his neck. his head tilts away, like he’s trying to will himself to forget it’s there.

“you wear this like it’s going to protect you,” you say lowly. “like you’re not already begging me.”

“i’m not—”

your fingers curl around the chain, tugging him just enough to bring his lips an inch from yours.

“look at you,” you cut in sharply. you feel his breath hitch. “you’re already a sinner, baby. heaven stopped watching when you were thinking of me with your hand between your legs.”

his eyes squeeze shut, as if trying to fight off the memory. you almost scoff in his face: you read him to filth. but it’s not like that was hard to guess.

“didn’t it feel good, honey?” you murmur, hand sliding down his chest, pressing your palm flat over his racing heart. “then it can’t be so bad.”

jeong-in looks up at you then, lips parted, pupils blown wide with something between fear and need.

“tell me with your words, jeong-in.” you coax him, palm lightly reaching around his throat. not a threat— just gentle.

his throat bobbed under your hand. and then, barely over a breath, he whispered: “i want you.”

you smiled. “good boy.”

your foot kicks out to shut the door behind him, a smile tugging at your mouth as it clicks shut.

both of your hands come to caress the sides of his face, gliding over the apple of his cheek. his skin was warm under your touch. jeong-in’s eyes flutter shut with a sigh.

there’s something sweet about how he’s trusting you to ruin him.

your lips come to his, kissing only delicately. he’s pliant with how he kisses back— still reluctant, but practically melting in your grasp by the minute.

you press another quick kiss before pulling away, and jeong-in’s drifting after you, chasing your mouth. it makes you giggle.

it didn’t take much to get under his skin.

you intertwine your fingers with his, leading him to the edge of your bed. you sit him down with a hand on his shoulder.

his eyes dart anywhere in the room but you as you slot yourself between his legs.

“still want this?” you brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

“yes,” he murmurs, voice strained.

“i’ll take care of you, baby,” you coo, fingers creeping over the back of his neck.

you pinch the clasp on his chain, your other hand catching it as it slides free from his chest. jeong-in watches with bated breath as you tuck the cross necklace away under a pillow.

“if you’re quiet, He doesn’t have to know.”

your hands trace his chest slowly, slipping beneath his white-collared shirt. his heart’s drumming under your touch, his breath stuttering with every rake of your nails on his skin.

your other arm reaches out to rest beside him on the mattress, letting you bend to hover your mouth over his. jeong-in’s daring this time, craning his neck up to catch your lips in his.

he’s fervent with his kisses— almost greedy with how he’s practically pulling your tongue into his mouth. you could laugh at his desperation, if it wasn’t getting you hot.

jeong-in gasps down your throat when your palm lands on his crotch. his hips involuntarily jolt forward into your touch.

“there you go,” you hum. “i haven’t even taken anything off yet, and look at you.”

you kiss the corner of his mouth. he whines without thinking.

“please.” he whispers, breathless. “i need…”

you pinch his chin. “i’ll make it better, sweet boy”

your fingers curl under the waistband of his pants, reaching dangerously low. he stifles a noise. you pull the band back, and he jumps as you let it snap back onto his abdomen.

“maybe He’s the one that led you here.”

jeong-in’s eyes flick open—wide, panicked, aroused.

“maybe.. He’s still watching.”

he doesn’t answer. words are beyond him now— breathing fast, watching you with dazed eyes as your knees hike up to either side of him, and you climb into his lap.

jeong-in’s flushed, mouth parted in a shaky moan he can’t suppress quick enough. you can feel him already twitching under the heat of your crotch pressing against his. it makes you snicker.

you softly push him backward to lay on the bed. you steady yourself with a palm flat on his chest, anchoring your weight in your knees before you rock your hips.

jeong-on’s throwing his head back onto the mattress— the prettiest noises falling from his lips. you don’t let up your pace, grinding down on him hard enough to fell the outline of his dick gliding against you.

“you’re a good boy,” you whisper, a hand coming to grab his throat and making his eyes meet yours again. “won’t you let me do anything i want?”

he nods, desperately.

“say it like you mean it.”

“i’ll let you,” he choked out, face contorting with the heat of your cunt rutting against his length. “i’ll… do anything. just— don’t stop,”

“i wouldn’t,” you pant, leaning down to align your face with his. jeong-in catches your mouth with his before you can pull away— his pelvis mindlessly chasing your movements.

he’s shameless with how he’s whining onto your tongue. it’s adorable.

his mouth grimaces, brows pinching together. you can feel just how much his dick is twitching against the layers of fabric. “mmh, God—”

“go on, baby. let Him hear.”

and then he’s undone. your name’s the only one slipping from his mouth between his hurried whines, hands desperately coming to grip onto your thighs, pressing you down impossibly close. and then he cries out— hips stuttering as you feel the warmth of the cum spilling through his pants.

jeong-in’s panting like he scaled a damn mountain. you smile to yourself— it hadn’t taken much effort at all to get him there. but you don’t say it out loud. it’s cute, if anything.

“saying the Lord’s name in vain?” you tsk, soothing him with gentle caresses, drawing over the lines of his face.

jeong-in cracks an eye open at you, too exasperated to say anything in reply. you just smile at him sweetly.

“you can repent next time,” you can’t help yourself to teasing him with another buck of your hips, and you revel in how he winces. “on your knees.”

notes: someth very hot abt the idea of giving up ur devotion & perhaps fate after death just bc u desire *1* person that much…. much to think abt

tags: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @bcfcpsh

[kawaii-leilei54]

Carnival date

Bf! Kirishima x gf! Reader

Genre: fluff

Inspired by a playlist

You walk through the carnival, hand in hand as he leads you through the crowd to the ferris wheel.

The date has been going well, getting on some rides, Kiri had gotten dizzy in the tea cup and the superman but after some expensive medicine from the gift shop, he was feeling better.

You cheered him on as he gave it his all to win you your favorite sanrio character. And after about 5 rounds, he got it; refusing to give up.

The sun was setting as the bed of water below flowed, waves crashing against the rocks of the beach.

"Come on." He smiles as he leads you to the line.

"It's a pretty sunset, huh?" He says as he looks at the orangish in awe.

"Yeah." You say, noticing how he holds your hand a bit tighter before looking over at you with a bright smile, his eyes disappearing for a moment.

Which you return and swing your hands playfully.

"You know, I'm glad we were able to get time off from the agency to go out, I think after all of this week's chaos we deserve a break." You chuckle dryly.

"Totally, I wish we could do this more often but it's hard with our work schedules." He agrees as you both move through the line.

"But let's..just enjoy this for now." "I am proud of how hard you've been working lately though Kiri, you've been doing great." You admit.

"Yeah?" He says shyly, looking sheepish.

"You're pretty cool yourself y/n, taking on villains like that, and not to mention how manly you look when your 'boss' attitude." He compliments, his face sly.

"Shut up .." you mumble..now shy.

"Oh? Is it bad to compliment you now?" He chuckles. "You're so cute when you're shy."

You cover your face as you start to hear up, now moving closer to the front of the line.

His arms wrap around you as he laughs.

"Got nothing to say now?"

"Quit teasin' me." You mumble.

"Alright alright, come on, it's almost our turn."

And finally you two get on, moving slowly to the top.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He sighs as he looks out the window in awe, the sun now almost gone, the sky a purplish orange and the waves now clashing due to the wind.

"Reminds me of when you first told me you liked me." You say as you reminisce to that night.

You two were in the last year of high school, working internships with the pro heroes, you barely saw each other with how busy things were after the war, there was so much to do.

But kirishima knew...he wouldn't be able to live without talking to you again. Graduation was close and he wanted to keep in touch. But more than anything.. he wanted to be with you.

So the night before graduation.. as everyone was moving out of the dorms and back home, he called you and told you to come outside.

"What's up Kiri?" You ask as you walk up to his nervous and fidgety form.

In your hoody and sweats, you were packing up and getting ready to settle in for the night. Since you didn't live in town you had quite the journey home.

"Y/n, I'll get straight to the point." He says, his face shifting from nervous to serious, a blush on his cheeks.

He sighs to calm himself down before speaking and for some reason, your own heart was racing as you waited in anticipation for what he was going to say next.

"What is it?" You ask, nervousness is obvious in your voice but you try to act oblivious.

"I..."

"Y/n ..I don't want us to loose touch.. we've been friends for a while and I don't want that to change because of our jobs, you mean a lot to me."

"We've been through so much together and it would suck if we just...didn't talk anymore..you know?" He says softly as he looks down at his feet, now shy.

"Yeah, it would.." you mumble, looking away.

You chuckle as you think about this, how naive you two were, just starting out before starting your own careers and becoming pro heroes, right next to your classmates.

And the love of your life.

"Yeah, I guess it does huh?" He chuckles shyly.

The stars were out as you two finally reached the top, getting a good view of everything, you sigh as you take it all in.

"Y/n." He says softly, turning to face you.

"Let's continue growing together, being awesome beside you is something I've grown used to. Sorry." He smiles.

You chuckle and take his hand in yours.

"Yeah, let's do that."

[cloudedflowers]

Arthur is mean.

Yes and no, obviously.

It depends on the player and what they decide to do with him in their play through. Most don't have the heart to antagonize anyone else outside of maybe Micah or Bill but I'd like to acknowledge all the responses the gang gives when antagonized. (I find the gang's reactions most important than other npcs since they know him personally.)

No way am I hating on Arthur! I just think it's another interesting side of him and layer to his character that is worth at least taking a look at.

The responses you often get when antagonizing (keep in mind I collected this through videos) are:

Don't start with this/me / Not this again / Here we go (again) / I should've known I'm next / You're in that mood again / etc.

All points towards the facts that Arthur, at least prior to where the game picks up, has a reputation for being mean or having bad temper (pretty sure he says it himself too but I can't pin point a scene right now.)

For the women he also has stereotypical (and sort of misogynistic) lines like:

Smile more / A smile won't hurt / How are you not complaining/moaning right now?

(He does tell Kieran and Charles to smile too, Hosea to cheer up, but the women are consistently told that. Obviously there's the argument that it's a different time but he's shown himself to be more than decent to the women in game too.)

It also seems with specific characters like for example Swanson, Uncle or Javier, they are used to his ridicule when you choose to antagonize them about Reverend's drug use, Uncle's laziness and Javier's clothing style.

This is exasperated when Arthur is drunk.

Are you drunk/drinking again? / No one likes you when you're drunk / Liquor makes you mean / You're talking drunk again / You're a bad drunk / When will you learn to hold your liquor? / etc.

It's likely he just used to drink as regularly as the other men in camp and this is again player choice. (Although I would classify some members heavier drinkers than others.)

And, again, it shows that he has or had a tendency to be a mean drunk or mean person in general.

(Also would love to point out specific reactions by Dutch and Hosea when Arthur antagonizes them, one being by Dutch: "Are you getting ideas above your station again?" and the other by Hosea: "How about we talk about your problems?".

Another one is Arthur antagonizing Tilly, I know, ouch, by asking her if "he should call her Tilly Foreman" and making other remarks towards her old gang which distress her greatly. Gives the impression they all are veeery familiar with his attitude.

He also has the option to insinuate to Jack that John isn't his father or straight up say to him that he and the other adults lie to him. This shows that he says things just to be mean, even though he knows better because he is very well aware that Jack is John's son.)

All of this to say: I think there's a difference between people who are plain mean (you could think of Micah here) and people who choose to be mean, because you will have a sense of trust and expectation there that they will be nice, only to suddenly switch on you.

-> Many reactions to Arthur antagonizing members are exactly that, confusion: Come on, now / What did I do? / What do you mean? / What's that mean? / Oh, don't start / etc.)

[These are especially common with Lenny and Jack, both being a bit young (no shade to Lenny) and subsequently naive. Lenny might also be confused because he hasn't been very long with them, about a year I think.]

So, Arthur is mean. He can be nice, and he often is, but when he turns mean it's both expected and met with disappointment.

Hosea's reaction strikes me especially because it makes it sound like he knows Arthur is deflecting. And considering the shit he's been through, I imagine most of that anger came from the experiences with Mary and Eliza. Mary is openly despised around camp when her letters come up and I can guess it might stem from the fact that they watched her inadvertently turn Arthur miserable and bitter.

Let me know what you think about it and what you noticed yourself!

I don't doubt anyone forgets that Arthur is a mean guy, even if we primarily love to focus on his goofy, cute sides. I love this more difficult side of him because it fleshed out his character for me way more. He's just a person in the end and it reflects how he struggles to hold his tongue and control his temper. It gives him depth in regards to the years of his development that we don't get to see in game.

Also – just because he's mean doesn't mean he's bad.

There are plenty occasions where the game forces the player to do the good/right thing and even when John reflects on Low Honor Arthur, he calls him confusing but clings to the good parts he still had, which is his life that he owes him.

In the end, the game is about Arthur's (and in turn John's) redemption from their unlawful and cruel ways of life and even a Low Honor Arthur isn't a completely cold and heartless person, he's the product of letting his anger and bitterness consume him while High Honor Arthur looks at the things from the outside and chooses to try and let go of things.

High Honor Arthur can coexist with a mean Arthur - he knows how to do the right thing but he doesn't know how to say it. He can be a man that helps strangers and pays for his actions while simultaneously snapping at his closest companions and hitting them there where he knows it hurts.

My sources/references ig:

[ecstasturns]

you get Matt to cum over the game

“you’re playing really badly tonight, Matt. everything okay?” your voice teased him over the mic. Matt shifted in his seat uncomfortably, struggling to ignore the painful stiffness in his pants.

“hey, Matt. you hear me?”

“huh? oh—yeah. just bad luck I guess.” his voice was hoarse and kind of whiny. and he knew it, scratching his neck with an anxious hand.

“don’t lie to me, baby—”

“fuck don’t. don’t say that.” almost instantly, Matt’s hand fell to his crotch, unsure if he could handle any more dirty talk. you knew exactly what you were doing to him, calling him names, teasing him. and as much as he was embarrassed to admit it, Matt was a fiend for humiliation.

“supposed to be playing Fortnite with me but instead you’ve got a boner.” you chuckled, prompting him to turn his web cam on. “c’mon. wanna see that pathetic little face.”

with a huff, Matt turned on the camera, his figure appearing on your screen. forget Fortnite, the two of you would play another game tonight.

“god I called that a boner? it’s barely noticeable. so small—”

“what? no it’s not.” his brows furrowed with frustration, glancing down at the tent in his pants. he thought it was a decent size. wasn’t it?

you laughed. laughed. making him feel more and more insecure by the second. but also strangely turned on. “why don’t you prove it to me, hm? c’mon, let me see it.”

his heart pulsed violently against his ribs. he gave in, fingers hesitating at his waistband for a second before he slid his bottoms down his legs, boxers hanging around his ankles as his cock flung out, hitting his tummy.

“why don’t you get a hand around that? just for me?” you coaxed, grinning when he gripped onto the base of his dick.

“good job, now you know what to do, rub it up and down. niceee and slow…”

his shaky breaths barely reached the microphone, but you could here his chair squeak as he sped up the pace. and the sheer agony contorting his features, pretty blue eyes hidden under tightly shut eyelids.

then, Matt’s head fell back, back arching off the chair. you could tell his fingers were getting weaker, struggling profusely to keep fisting. you encouraged him.

“come on, Matt. you really giving up now? I knew you couldn’t do it, knew you weren’t good enough.” you scoffed, causing a heat to rise to his cheeks.

whimpers played back to you through your headset, like music to your ears. despite the not-so-great quality of his camera, you could see his tip getting irritated.

“sh-shit, cum. cum!” a moan ripped out the back of his throat, making the audio crackle and cut off.

but none of that mattered. you watched, intrigued, as cum dribbled down his dick. drop after drop rolling down on top of another until he completely froze, cramped hand taking through his hair.

“not bad, Matt. go clean up quick and we can play battle royale.”

he nodded quickly, chest still heaving.

“and hey, Matt?”

he stopped.

“look at the camera real quick.” when his eyes found the lens, you took a screenshot.

“mhm, cute.”

𐔌 file.an — idk, hope you like it. also the picture is my Roman Empire, bets Matt pic to surface the internet. am I right or right?

[fluffyenergee]

"I thought you said you weren't ticklish" with ler!demo and lee!solly :3

"KKKHAHAHAHA!"

A mix of laughter and a scream could be heard coming from the common room. In fact, it was loud enough to reach Soldier's ears and sent him rushing to the source.

"Enemy alert, enemy alert, everyone, regroup-!"

He stopped instantly once he arrived in the doorway.

It was not a sneaky enemy attack, it wasn't even anyone accidentally burning the kitchen. Or in case of some of them not accidentally at all. The point was what met Soldier's eyes was Sniper sitting in Heavy's lap. Still screaming.

"Maggot, what is going on!? What is this Commie-?"

"KKKHAHAHA! AHAHHA!" Sniper wailed again. "S-STOHOHOHAP HIHIHIM!"

Sniper's arms flailed wildly and that's when Soldier saw it. One of Heavy's arms was keeping Sniper pinned to his chest, while the other one was wiggling against the marksman's ribs. Oh.

"Sniper was being rude," Heavy simply claimed, like that was enough of an excuse. Maybe it was.

"Bah! That is no serious emergency." Soldier thumped his leg and just when he was about to turn around and find something better to take care of-

"Naw, c'mon, laddie, not good enough of a show fer ye?" Demoman revealed his presence and spoke from the couch trying his best to be louder than Sniper, his eyes moving from the tickle pair to Soldier. "It's good fer me." He took a sip of his scrumpy.

"Show?!" Soldier raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "Being ticklish does not count as entertainment, this is an unforgivable weakness!" With that he took off, ignoring Sniper's curses.

However, he didn't get to go far before, aside from Sniper's laughter, he could hear thumps of steps behind him. Instincts kicked again and he was face to face with the intruder.

"Spy!"

"Eh, naw, lad, still me." Demo blinked at the other.

"Good job, then!" Soldier patted him on the shoulder. "Keep it up."

"Aye." Demo grinned. "But actually, I wanted to ask ye a question."

"What is it, Demoman?"

"Ye said that ticklin' is a weakness."

"That is not a question, but yes!" Soldier straightened his posture. "It is. Just like pain."

"Riiiiight." Demo rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "Guess it's bad then that every mate in this team is ticklish."

"WHAT!?" Soldier's helmet almost flew off his head. "Everyone?"

"Yep. Checked it meself." Demo grinned to himself. "'S not that weird, actually, doc once said that someone not bein' ticklish would be more of an er, "atypical nervous reaction"."

"Hmp, so everyone here is a weakling," Soldier scoffed and crossed his arms. "Aside from me. I knew it all along. Soldier prevails, maggots!"

"Soooo, you're saying ye're not ticklish?"

"Correct!" Soldier saluted.

"Riiiight." Demo narrowed his eyes. "Mind if I check then?"

"Weakness inspection, I approve!" Soldier agreed enthusiastically but then added quickly, "Even if I know there are no weaknesses on this body." He patted his chest. "You still have-." He choked on his words when Demo started pulling him with him, away from the common room.

Even though Sniper's laughter has died a while ago, Demo figured they could use a different area for that "test". And what a better place than his own room where he could be like, 50% sure no one would come uninvited.

So, they entered the area, and he lightly pushed Soldier towards his messy couch where the other sat down, still as straight as a guitar string but definitely not tense. And Demo thought that could only mean one thing,

"He genuinely thinks he's not ticklish."

Fine then, either he would make an absolute fool out of himself orrrr prove to a very unwilling mercenary that he is ticklish as well. He weighed the pros and cons, and his mind was made up.

"Alright, lad, remember, no laughing."

He sat down next to Soldier and shifted into a more comfortable position. His hands hovered above the other's body for a moment or two and then-.

"Agh!"

Squeezed both of Soldier's knees.

"Aha, what was that?" He smirked, not only because Soldier actually made a sound, but also because from his bent position he could see his eyes, and they were widened.

"Nothing!" Soldier, of course, denied everything.

"Mmmm, sure. Be it yer way."

Demo didn't stop, his hands still sitting on the trusted source that were Soldier's knees and kept squeezing. He hummed when they started twitching and the corners of Soldier's lips started moving up.

"I dunno, ye seem to be reactin', alright."

"This is... ngh, nothing," Soldier hissed through gritted teeth. "I-It's magic, you're using magic!"

"I wish."

The reaction on knees sure was promising but became even better once Demo's hands moved up to the sides of Soldier's thighs and scratched.

"Mmmph!" Soldier's hands moved, just a bit, to grab Demo's, but he managed to stop them just in time.

"Naaw," Demo tickled at the area just between thighs and hips, just where he could feel the bone. "I thought ye said ye weren't ticklish," He purred, half in satisfaction, half playfully, and pinched the skin.

Soldier jumped.

And snickered.

"I-I'm n-not."

To Demo's delight, Soldier's voice as well as body were now shaking. There were definitely no other excuses available now.

"Hah! Ye are ticklish!"

In his enthusiasm Demo put his hands under Soldier's arms and picked him up. It didn't last long, however.

"HAAAAAH!" Soldier wheezed, his hands instantly plastered to his sides.

"Ohoho-hoh. What have we here?" Demo's all-teeth grin was positively evil.

"N-Nothing." The panic in Soldier's voice was absolutely delightful. His arms were making absolutely sure Demo couldn't free his hands from under them even if he tried. "Demoman, I order you t-to stop this r-right nggh, right now!" He sputtered.

"Hmmmm, no." Demo pretended to ponder. "Not only are ye ticklish, ye're really ticklish. Admit it."

"No!" Soldier shook his head so strongly his helmet was now askew. "This is all propaganda. N-Not true at all! Maggot, let me go, or I swear-!" Demo scratched just once in the hollows. "AH!"

Once Soldier threw his head back there was no saving his face getting fully uncovered but at least he managed to catch the helmet. However, instead of putting it back in its place Soldier was now holding it against his face. All in all, if covering his face was the goal Demo had to admit this move was definitely doing its job better than before.

A shame really because he was starting to notice blush on Soldier's face. The good thing, however? Soldier uncovered his armpits completely and Demo was not planning to miss his chance.

His fingers renewed their eager exploration of Soldier's armpits to which their owner in turn returned to laughing, though now it wasn't just a single burst but a continuous stream.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! G-GGHAHAHA!"

No amount of helmet covering could muffle his laughter enough.1

"Guess that means yer just like the rest o' us." Demo shook his head, mock-disapprovingly. "Full of weaknesses. Yer armpits seem to be the worst weakness-central yet."

"NOHOHOHOH, I-I REHEHEHEFUSE!"

"Aye, refuse all ye want, Private Haircut." Demo vibrated his finger which resulted in an actual squeal from Soldier. "Even with one eye I can see it all just fine. Tickle tickle tickle! If that helps, ye can see it as a punishment for lyin' about not bein' ticklish."

"IT WAHAHAHASN'T A-!" The rest of the sentence dissolved in the absolutely wild wheeze escaping Soldier. He tried to come back to it a few more times but each time more laughter or wheezing proved to be superior. "GAHAHAHAHAHA! D-DEHEHEHEHEMO- GAHAHA!"

"Idea!" Demo beamed while drilling his thumbs into the center of Soldier's armpits, causing him to spasm. "I stop when ye admit yer ticklish."

"NEHEHEHEHEVER!"

"Whatever ye say, lad." Demo shrugged. "I have a whole day."

-----------

Help, this is the longest one yet, that ain't a drabble :'). Anyway, I'm glad I got to try writing those two's speech because before I had found it quite intimidating, especially Demo's but I think I did ok :}. Didn't help however that at first both sites with Soldier and Demo's lines didn't freaking work.

[angstyentropy]

I made a short Mothers Day fanfic. It has a lot of self projecting and isn't my best work (it was a little rushed) but it's about Roy Harper so I think that makes up for it.

Roy made his way through the parking lot, muttering to himself about Mia not being able to get groceries herself. Though he was already planning on getting Lian a gift for when she got back from visiting Jade so he guessed it wasn't that bad.

The inside of the store was the same as always, the same noise, the same layout, everything. He made his way past the check out lines to get into the store, something caught his eye though.

Floating above a register was a simple pink balloon, they were the same generic ones you'd see anywhere but that wasn't what caught his eye. Written on the side of the balloon wasn't Happy Birthday or Happy Anniversary but Happy Mothers Day. 

“..oh” 

He went to the nearest side of the store so he could start on one end and make his way to the other, checking for the stuff he needed along the way. As he turned down the aisle he saw a wall of cards. There were the ones you'd see all year long there too but a good third of it was dedicated to Mother's Day.

Roy ignored the lump in his throat and angled himself so his back was to the wall of cards as he checked the shelf on the other side. It was near the end of the shelf that he spotted an array of mugs, most of them saying some variation of Best Mom Ever. The next moment he was turning the corner.

It didn't take long for him to get the rest of the stuff and make his way out of the store, ignoring the balloons once again as well as a photo booth with Mother's Day decorations set up around it. 

The outside of the store had a variety of flowers set up along the walls. He hadn't noticed them on the way in but now they left a sour taste in his mouth. It's not that big of a deal.

A shout and clatter brought his attention to a girl who was now in the middle of pushing herself up off the ground. “Woah, that was a big tumble, are you okay?” he told her, making his way over and extending a hand. The girl looked at him skeptically, not taking his hand and getting up the rest of the way herself. 

“I'm fine,” she said, dusting off her jeans. They were pretty scraped and he knew it must've hurt but she got back up like nothing ever happened. She went back over to her dad's side before her gaze drifted over to a piece of paper sitting in a puddle and she frowned. 

Roy reached over and grabbed it, along both sides were a bunch of scribbled on colors that told him this was a kids drawing, presumably the girls. “I’m sorry” he said, giving it back to her. 

“It's just a Mother's Day project we made in school” She responded.

“Don't you want to give it to your mom?” 

The kid seemed to become even more gloomy, that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to upset them further. “She’s dead” Oh. 

“I'm sorry for your loss”

The girl shook her head. “It doesn't affect me that much, I barely remember her” That sent a pang of hurt right to his chest. It seemed to do the same to her father who looked over with saddened eyes.

“Can't really mourn someone you’ve never met, huh?” Roy said sorrowfully. The girl shook her head dejectedly. “So why did you make a present?”

“Everyone else was making them in class, it happens every year and I hate it! They always say to give it to someone else but it… it's not the same” She pouted.

Roy felt his stomach sink. “I never knew my mom either” His eyes trailed over to her father. “If you want we could celebrate together?” 

The girls eyes looked to her father for permission. He met her gaze and smiled softly. “Well what do you say?”

The kid's eyes lit up like Christmas lights and she beamed up at them. She wasn't as sad anymore and to Roy that felt just as important as taking down any criminal.

“YES!” She yelled, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 80

When Tripitaka finally believes Wukong that the 'innocent' human is actually a demon in disguise:

Welcome back to this week's chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest. This week we finally get to leave the worst king in this entire book in the dust as we continue on moving west into a new arc. So let's get into it shall we?

So the gang is finally able to ditch the king and continue west, until they run into yet another spooky mountain. Tripitaka warns them that they should be careful, since they have a horrible track record when it comes to mountains, but Pigsy assures him that they'll probably be fine since it's not that far from the western paradise. And indeed they are able to make it through the mountain without incident, only to next encounter a park pine forest. Which they also have a bad track record with. Tripitaka is spooked as usual, but Monkey just uses his staff to open up a wide path to get them all moving again.

The fact that they aren't running into any demonic issues for once, seems to go to Tripitaka's head however, since partway into the forest he decides that this seems like the perfect place to rest for a while. So he asks Monkey to go procure a meal, while he rests in the shade, and Sandy and Pigsy go wandering around picking flowers and fruits I guess. So Monkey takes off on his cloud, but before he completely leaves the area, he takes a moment to marvel at Tripitaka's beautiful holy aura. He also remarks that despite all the marvelous things he did in the past, he now must humble himself and serve this man as a disciple. That to is fine however, since if it's Tripitaka, they will definitely attain the right fruit. However as he is soaking in Tripitaka's wonderful aura, he notices a mass of black fumes, and figures its a sign that a demon attack is on the horizon.

Meanwhile Tripitaka is reciting sutra's when he hears a voice calling out for help. And despite thinking that it might be someone being attacked by a tiger or wolf, he still decides to investigate by himself. Luckily, there are no tigers or wolves, just a girl half buried in the ground and tied to a tree. Unluckily, this girl is obviously a demon in disguise. Tripitaka however doesn't know that and asks her why she's bound here. So the fiend breaks into her rehearsed sob story, which goes a little something like this:

She came from a good pious family from the Bimbana Kingdom, but one day they were attacked by brigands. The rest of her family managed to escape but she was captured, and since all the brigands desired her for her beauty and wanted her for themselves, they began fighting over her. Eventually they resolved the issue by deciding that if they couldn't have her, no one could, so they tied her up here to leave her to die. She was here for five days before her luck took a turn by Tripitaka finding her to free her.

Tripitaka of course believes her story so much that it brings him to tears as he calls for Pigsy and Sandy, and asks for Pigsy to untie her. Before Pigsy can do so however, Monkey, who saw the black cloud and decided that the food could wait since Tripitaka was in danger, launches himself out of the sky at Pigsy, and does an epic take down on him. Pigsy asks what his damage is, since he was just following Tripitaka's orders to untie her, but Pigsy tells him not to do that since this girl is a demon in disguise.

Tripitaka doesn't believe him at first, asking how he knows that, but Monkey just points out that they've been through this exact scenario before, and that it never ends well for him. Pigsy says that he probably just wants them to leave her here, so he can sneak back and have some fun with her himself. And Monkey snaps back that he's not the one who is so ruled by lust that he ended up tricked and tied to a tree that one time.

And for once Tripitaka actually believes Wukong over Pigsy! He's grown so much you guys, he actually managed to learn. Anyways Tripitaka agrees to leave demon girls well enough alone, and Monkey is pleased that he might not have to pencil in a rescue mission into his busy schedule this week after all. Anyways Monkey says he'll get Tripitaka something to eat once they are out of this forest, and they all take their leave.

The demon girl isn't willing to give up that easily though, since she really wants to take Tripitaka and mate with him so she can become an immortal. So she uses a breeze to carry her voice to Tripitaka to ask him what kind of scripture monk would leave an innocent human tied up like this? This is enough to get Tripitaka to stop in his tracks and decide that they better free the girl after all. Monkey asks what brought this on, since he was doing so well earlier, and Tripitaka replies that he hears her calling him. The three disciples remark that they didn't hear anything.

Tripitaka however is insistent on following the decree to never fail to do good even if it's small. Monkey just sighs and figures he better schedule in that rescue mission after all, and tells Tripitaka to just do what he wants. Better then having Tripitaka yell at him and then doing it anyways. So Tripitaka takes Pigsy to go dig her out, before bringing her back to the group. Monkey just sniggers and says this girl will bring about their downfall. Since the next kingdom they meet will probably assume they kidnapped her. That being said, Tripitaka is still willing to assume responsibility for her.

So Monkey switches tactics, and says that the girl was probably better off dying preserved in the dirt like that. The girls feet are so small there is no way she can keep up with them, and when she starts lagging behind, she'll probably be eaten by a tiger or something. Tripitaka says that is actually a good point, but instead of abandoning the girl like Monkey probably wanted, instead he gets off his horse so he can walk with her, while Pigsy leads the horse. After all, they can't exactly leave him behind to get eaten by a tiger.

They slowly travel along until they find what is either a monastery or temple, and decide to rest there for the night. As usual Tripitaka goes in first to try and secure them a place to stay before the disciples ugliness can run off their hosts. However when Tripitaka opens the gate he finds it badly rotted, and see's the the temple is in shambles. As Tripitaka explores the ruins he is brought to tears by the sight, especially at the sight of a huge tattered bronze bell. However the place isn't as isolated as it looks, and a temple worker hears Tripitaka lamenting over the bell, and is spooked by it, so he throws a brick at the bell which winds up spooking Tripitaka to.

After the two are able to talk, and clarify that neither of them are a demon, Tripitaka asks if they will host him and his disciples for the night. So the temple worker leads Tripitaka further inside, to a much nicer part of the temple. Tripitaka asks whats with the discrepancy, and the temple worker says that three are a bunch of bandits in the area who used to profane the place, so now they keep all the nice stuff in the back.

Anyways Tripitaka is brought to the main priest, who is starstruck by Tripitaka's handsomeness, and asks why and how a monk like him could travel all this way, through such dangerous territory. Tripitaka says he didn't do it alone and has three disciples, who are waiting outside. The Priest is alarmed by this, since it's to dangerous to be outside this late at night, and asks two young priests to go bring them inside. Only for the two priests to come back and tearfully tell Tripitaka that his disciples are gone, and were probably eaten by the three terrible fiends at the gate.

Tripitaka asks for the description of the fiends, and yup, sure enough, those are his fiends. He tells them as much, that the people at the gates are his disciples plus one rescued damsel, and asks that they bring them inside before Wukong gets impatient and breaks in anyways. With that the disciples are led inside, where they all have a vegetarian feast together.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction, vanishing in a flash of light, super healing, transforming others, Invisibility, Wind Immunity, Medicine Making, putting out fire from a distance with a glass of wine, weaving a straw dragon and Body Division Demon Kill Count: 10753 + Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1039 God's Defeated: 23 + Unknown number Defeats: 8 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Disorderly Conduct, Joyriding, unauthorized practice of medicine and Voyeurism Cry Count: 18 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization, Heart Sutra, Meditation, Being Heaven's Specialist Little Guy, and a Golden Halo Cry Count: 47 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 63 Paralyzed by fear: 6 Bandit Problems: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 15 Falling Off Horses: 12

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, Sword Dancing and Magic Pee Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 4 Kidnapped by demons: 5

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement, CPR and Shoveling Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 15 + Unknown number of minions Kidnapped by Demons: 12 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 4 Cry Count: 5 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Theft, Forcible entry, Disrupting a Funeral, Violating Tree Law and Arson

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater, Cloud soaring, and fetching water from a well. Demon Kill Count: 1 + Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 8 Human Kill Count: 1 Cry Count: 5 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption and Arson