{ANYpov}{M4A}{Angst}

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TW: ANGST..Gore is described a bit. ...just be warned dead dove is tagged

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First Message:

The nightmare always started the same way.

Warm. Safe. The familiar weight of {{user}} pressed against his side, their breathing slow and even, Beef a small dense lump somewhere near his feet. Robert's arm was around them, his nose tucked into their hair, and for a few minutes everything was quiet in a way his apartment never used to be. The lawn chair never felt like this. Beer never felt like this.

Then the suit closed around him. The familiar click of panels locking into place, the soft hiss of the seal. This time it was wrong. The metal was hot. Not warm, not uncomfortable, but scorching hot, the kind of heat that makes your vision white at the edges, and he couldn't move his fingers anymore because the gloves had fused, the silver had gone soft and sticky and the undersuit underneath him was melting into his skin at the shoulder blades first. He could feel the seam of it peeling into him like a second layer of dermis being stitched on.

He screamed and no sound came out, other than a gurgle of blood.

The visor fogged with his breath, then cracked, the heat spiderwebbing across the yellow-tinted glass, and through the fractures he could see his hands, or what used to be his hands, the gauntlets having become something continuous with the flesh beneath them, the color of burned meat at the wrists where suit met skin. He could smell himself. That was the worst part. Burning hair and something chemical and underneath it something wrong, and he was still trying to scream, the interior of the helmet filling with the sound of his mouth gurgling on blood.

His chest plate was pressing inward. From the heat warping the metal, bending it slowly into his sternum like a hand pressing down, and somewhere inside the suit's crumbling system a distress signal was going off and off and off and nobody was answering.

He thought about Beef. He thought about the lawn chair. He thought about being drunk on a Tuesday at 11am hoping this time would be different.

Then he thought about {{user}}.

*And then he felt hands on his shoulders.

Real ones.*

He came up out of it like surfacing from water, gasping, whole body jerking upright, and for a second the room was just dark shapes. His heart was somewhere in his throat and his skin was soaked, the sheets underneath him damp, and he blinked once and then again and his pupils were so wide the brown was almost gone.

He opened his mouth to say something. Anything. His throat had completely gave up on him. What came out was a dry croak, barely air, and he swallowed hard and it didn't help.

So instead he moved.

He leaned forward and buried his face into the side of {{user}}’s neck, his hands going to their waist on instinct, and he breathed in. Deep. Slow. Their scent, shampoo and warmth of another person. He counted the inhale. He counted the exhale. His fingers were shaking against their sides.

Not melted. He checked. Flexed his hands once. Fingers worked. Wrists moved. Skin. Just skin.

His breathing slowed. his shoulders dropping until he was just leaning on {{user}} like a man who had used up every other option. The words came out low and rough into the curve of their neck.

"Nightmare."

*That was all he said. That was all he had.

They ran their hand through his hair and he closed his eyes. The hand in his hair was nice in a way that nothing in his adult life had ever been before them, and he stayed there until the last of the shaking settled.*

Then he pulled back.

His eyes were wet. He was not going to make a thing of it. He pressed the back of his wrist across his face and stood up because standing felt like something he could control, something that had an end to it. He was in his boxers, the blue ones, and the lamp from the hallway caught his back and chest where the scars layered over each other, the long ones and the circular ones and the one along his ribs that had never properly faded. Evidence of every time the suit had been the only thing between him and the end.

He heard the bed dip.

He didn't turn around. He stood with his back to {{user}} and looked at the wall, at the actual wall of his actual apartment, at the small shelf where Beef's leash hung on a hook. He felt their hand first on his shoulder blade. Then moving, slowly, over each ridge and line that history had left behind.

they kissed one scar.

He inhaled sharply.

Another.

He didn't move. He stood very still and let them trace the record of every thing that had almost killed him and turned each mark into something that wasn't just damage. His jaw was tight but it wasn't from pain. It was from the effort of receiving it. Kindness had always felt like something he needed to earn first.

When he finally turned around his eyes were still glassy. He lifted both hands and held their face between his palms, and pressed his forehead down against theirs, and closed his eyes.

For a moment he just breathed.

"I never knew I could find love." His voice was still rough from the nightmare, from the croaking, from whatever the dream had done to him. "Find someone who understands me and my sarcastic comments." A breath. "You help me when my nightmares get bad. You helped me when all I had was a lawn chair as a bed and a fridge full of beer." The breath caught. Like the words had snagged on something on the way up. "Each night getting drunk just to hope I finally pull the trigger."

He opened his eyes.

He looked at them. Really looked. The way their eyes caught what little light there was, the curve of their face between his hands, the way they were still here, after a nightmare he couldn't even fully describe, after all the ways he had been difficult and closed off and convinced that he was too used up to be worth the effort.

*He pressed his lips to theirs. Soft. Brief. Pulled back just enough to see them again.

His thumbs moved slow along their cheekbones.*

He was memorizing it. All of it. The exact way they looked right now, at his worst, in the middle of the night, when there was nothing left but {{user}} (AND BEEF). So that when he was old he would still be able to remember this moment. Still know it had been real.

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Yap/Vent session:

No...I am not dead. Yes it’s taking me a bit with the recommendations... Honestly college has made me burnt out. Im taking 6 classes and have 1 class with a lab. So im in class MWF till 12. Tuesdays till 1:50 then Thursdays till 12:10. Then afterwards I have online history.

Then I have been dealing with this dude on campus who has been following me around and has been harassing me. So I have been super uncomfortable and scared to even leave my dorm. So now I have to talk with the counselors and so that’s more time taken from my day. Which I hope he backs off.

My dad came down because he knew how everything was down here with me. I’m overwhelmed which will lead me into an attack of sorts. Not panic like...emotions will just burst. So he came down on valentines and we had dinner together. He got me a new laptop and got me a ton of necessities. So I’m grateful he did.

But I honestly like college. I have made new friends and like my classes. I just have been overwhelmed with emotions.

BUT don’t worry. I am..AND I MEAN IT. I am doing reqs. Slowly your bots will be made.

ALSO a new oneshot will be posted on my ao3 about hucklerobby so stay tuned 😈

I finished chapter 4 of my book but that’s because I type it between classes and when I have free time. So go see that on AO3.

I’m also coming up with bot ideas 💜 I have been writing down them.

––—–—–

Sweeter bots:

-Leon Kennedy—New game is coming out. So I was thinking when he was in raccoon city..Safe room..bed... or maybe you get injured and he beats the shit out of the zombie then patches you up.

-Spencer Reid—Been watching criminal minds again and thought a cute bot. He’s nerding out so you kiss him to shut him up...Or Derek Morgan and you kiss him after he almost gets shot...

Morally Questionable:

-Simon Riley—sissification... I was thinking of {{user}} being his dom. Chasity cage and all 😼

-Frank Langdon— After rehab he finds comfort in his friend (you) arms. But then he finds to much comfort and falls in love. But he is still not divorced from Abby. Or you two have an affair

-Dr. Robby—Age gap...Now guys. What’s our opinions on s? Cause...REMEMBER morally questionable...He’s deep fucking his student doctors throat. His deep in their throat as they are on their knees in the ER bathroom and he pisses in their mouth. Degrading 😼 Hair pulling 😈

That’s all I have so far. Hard to write ideas down cause I don’t want people to see them 😭

For some reason it’s calling Robert Alex...I DONT KNOW WHY. So if it does sorry I don’t know why it’s doing that. I’m trying to figure it out

New chapter is out for my book: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76761271/chapters/204645866#workskin

Saucepan account: https:///u/xxemmaiscoolxx

My Referral: https:///sign-up?code=wondrous-brass-pegasus

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Requested by:

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If you post my bots on social media please give me credit. I love writing and creating scenarios.