๐๐๐๐:
โก AMARA WRITES: [fandom] = My fics and their fandom
โก AMARA SIDE QUEST = My IRL stuff
โก AMARA RANTS = outside of fics, maybe me ranting about fandoms or anything
โธโฅ ( ๐บ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ท๐บ๐ฐ๐บ ) In your world of heroes and villains, you've stood beside Robert for years. But after his near-fatal fall, the destruction of his mech, and the slow unraveling of the identity he was raised to wear, the man you love begins to slip further away, chasing validation from a world that has forgotten him and pushing you out in the process.
โธโฅ ( ๐ช๐ถ๐ต๐ป๐ฌ๐ต๐ป ) Established relationship. emotional cheating. Following the plot of the game (or I try to). tba.
โธโฅ ( ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ท๐ป๐ฌ๐น๐บ ) (2/3)
โโด I Feel Him Drifting Away
โโด You Drifted Away
โโด TBA
Anyway thank you so much for 100+ followers ๐ฅน that's an overwhelming number of people lmao but thank you so much for liking and looking forward for my fics
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. Robert now faces the consequences of what he said to you last night. And now he has to deal with the fact he might be losing the person that loves him the most
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. ANGST, Established relationship, injuries, Chase will held you close and beat Robert's ass up (I know he will)
๐๐๐๐. You guys at my front lawn with pitchforks and torches, screaming for part 2... And y'all might get a 3rd because there's a lot now and it's becoming a miniseries lmao (tell me in the comments/messages if you want to be in the taglist)
[part 1] [part 3]
The punching bag jerks wildly with each strike, chains rattling overhead like theyโre barely holding together. Robertโs gloves smack against the leather again and again until the echo fills the whole SDN training bay. His breath comes out sharp and controlled, but his mind is anything but. The rhythm should ground him. It usually does. But today every punch sends his thoughts spiraling in directions he canโt control. Mecha Man. The suit.
And then, like a sudden punch to the ribs: you. Your face. Your voice. The way you looked at him last night, horror and hurt mixing into something he knows he put there. His knuckles throb from hitting the bag too hard, but he doesnโt stop. Because stopping means thinking, and thinking hurts worse than the bruises forming beneath his wraps.
Youโre gone.
Thatโs the first thing he knew when he woke up, the apartment was silent. No coffee machine noises, no sound of dog kibbles being put down. It's too silent. Beef had been lying by the front door, his little head drooping as he stared at the empty space where your shadow had been. Your shoes are gone. Your jacket is off the hook. Your scent faded from the hallway like it was running away from him too. But your keysโyour damn keysโwere still sitting on the counter. A message without words. Youโre not coming home on your own anymore. Heโd stared at them for a long time, jaw clenched, throat tight. He wanted to tell himself you just stepped out, that you needed air. But he knew better. He gave you every reason to leave.
โWhy the fuck did I say thatโฆโ he mutters now beneath his breath, landing another brutal hit on the bag. It swings back violently, and he steadies it with his forearm, breathing hard. His chest burnsโnot from exertion, but from the memory of your face right before you stepped away from him. He canโt erase it. He doesnโt deserve to.
Why did he tear into you like that? Youโwho held him through every nightmare, who sat beside him when he couldnโt walk, whose hands shook when his coma dragged on. Youโwho stayed. Youโwho loved him when he had nothing left to give.
He lets the bag drift, breathing hard, and crosses the room toward the bench press. His muscles burn, his lungs sting, but none of it hurts like the silence you left behind. He lies back on the cold bench, fingers curling around the bar as if it might anchor him to something real.
Why did he want Blonde Blazerโs company so badly? Why did he chase her approval like it meant something?
It was never romantic. Not even close. He didnโt want her. He wanted what she represented. Someone powerful. Someone respected. Someone firmly rooted in the hero world heโs starting to sink out of. Someone who could tell him he still mattered, that Mecha Man wasnโt dead weight, that Robert wasnโt a washed-up relic clinging to scraps of a legacy.
He wanted validation. Stability. A direction. Somethingโanythingโthat made him feel like he wasnโt falling apart.
But now itโs obvious.
Obvious and too late.
โFuckโฆโ he exhales, the bar trembling slightly in his hands.
Heโs becoming his father. The realization hits him like a collapsing building. The avoidance, the isolation, the way he drifts from the people who care. His father did it for years, burying himself in missions until there was nothing left for his family. And now Robertโs repeating that cycle, abandoning the one person who never once abandoned him. You.
The Polaroid in his walletโyour first dateโflashes across his mind. Both of you baby-faced, smiling too wide, eyes bright like you had no idea what the future held. He still keeps it tucked carefully behind his ID, worn at the edges from how often he pulls it out when he thinks no one is watching. You looked at him like he was someone worth choosing.
You had been the lighthouse in the storm, the only light cutting through the chaos, and now that light is gone.
And he is drowning.
Deep.
Dark.
Choking on every mistake he made.
He exhales shakily and pushes the bar upwardโbut it wobbles. His strength falters. His arms shake beneath the weight.
โYou need some help?โ
The voice snaps him out of the spiral. Robert blinks, struggling under the bar heโs been holding a second too long. Flambae stands above him with a teasing smirk, arms on his hips.
โYouโre not supposed to lift without a spot, idiot,โ Flambae says, pointing to a Phenomaman poster on the wall: IF YOU DO NOT HAVE SUPERPOWERS, YOU NEED A SPOTTER!
Fuck off, Flambae. Not in the mood.
.
Robert stands in front of his locker, pulling on the fresh SDN uniform shirt with stiff, mechanical movements. The locker room is quiet except for the clank of metal and the faint hum of the old fluorescent lights overhead. Heโs exhausted, emotionally scraped raw. The last thing he wants is company.
Of course, that means company arrives immediately.
โYou decent?โ Blonde Blazer calls out as she steps inside, a hand covers her eyes in modesty.
โYeah,โ Robert mutters, voice low, guarded. Great. Perfect. Just what he needs.
She peeks between her fingers, then drops her hand once she confirms heโs fully dressed. She leans casually against the lockers, arms crossed. Her posture is relaxed, but her eyes arenโt. Theyโre studying him, reading him like an open case file.
โAre you alright?โ she asks, concern softening her voice. โFlambae said you almost died under some weights?โ
โSomething like that.โ Robert shuts his locker a little harder than necessary. โWhatโs up?โ
He doesnโt look at her. The more distance he keeps, the easier itโll be. Or at least thatโs what he tells himself.
Blonde Blazer uncrosses her arms and steps closer, until sheโs standing beside him. โI justโฆโ She hesitates, chewing her lip in a way that shows sheโs trying to choose her words carefully. โI had a great time the other night and wanted to seeโโ
โIt wasnโt anything,โ Robert cuts in sharply, before she can finish. He tries to keep his voice steady, but it comes out rough, strained. โDonโt look too much into it. I have a partner. Orโโ He swallows, throat tightening. โHad. Itโsโฆ complicated.โ
โOh. Oh, shit.โ Blonde Blazerโs expression falls, stepping back slightly. โIโIโm sorry. I didnโt mean to step into anything. did I mess something up? Please tell me I didnโt ruin things for you two.โ Her voice is soft, almost guilty. โGod, if I messed up your relationshipโโ
โYou didnโt.โ He shakes his head immediately, jaw clenching. โYou didnโt do anything wrong. Itโs me.โ The words scrape out of him like theyโre cutting on the way up. โIโm justโฆ too much in my own head. Messed up a lot of things.โ
Blonde Blazer exhales, relief mixing with sympathy. โOkay. Good. Because I donโtโโ she gestures vaguely, โI donโt poach. And Iโm not trying to get in the middle of anything.โ
She hesitates, then adds quietly, โDo you want advice? Or do you want space?โ
Robert drags a hand through his hair, staring down at the floor tiles as if the right answer might be carved there. โI donโt know,โ he mutters. โI just know I need to fix what I broke.โ
.
You didnโt even remember deciding to leave.
Your body justโฆ moved. Like survival instinct. Like the moment Robertโs words hit you, your legs took over because your heart couldnโt handle staying in that apartment another second.
You walked out when sunrise starts to peek outโcoat half on, shoes barely tiedโpassing Beef in the hallway. The poor guy tilted his head at you, ears lifting, tail thumping once against the wall like he wasnโt sure if this was a morning walk or the end of the world.
โSorry, buddy,โ you whispered, scratching between his ears before slipping past him. His face crumpled into the saddest confused-puppy expression youโd ever seen.
You promised yourself youโd come back for your things eventually. For Beef too. He deserved pets, and treats, and not being caught in the crossfire of two emotionally constipated adults who are his parents.
But not today.
You spent an hour in a corner booth of the only coffee shop open at that ungodly hour, staring blankly out the window, sipping a coffee you didnโt taste. You kept checking the timeโnot because you were excited to go to work, but because work meant you didnโt have to think.
Now youโre wrapped in a blanket on your friendโs couch, knees tucked to your chest, your phone lighting up your face with the glare of a thousand mistakes.
You scroll.
And scroll.
And scroll.
Robertโs name takes up your entire screen historyโtimestamp after timestampโfrom way past midnight toโฆ four minutes ago?
Robbie ๐๐ค
Hey can we talk?
I messed up i kno i messed up.
I like. fucked it. everything. i didnt mean it. any of it. can u pick up.
I msiss you
*mssi yuou
Just got out of a bar fight
I might have a concusionn
concushion
NOT MY FU ULT
Its z team
R u mad at me
Yea ok probably
I deserve that
Fuck
Hey do u want tacos
Ztem want tacos
Do you still like chicken or the weird mushrooom one now
Call me
Please call me
I love yo
I love yuo
You exhale through your nose, leaning your head back on the couch cushion. The part that should be angry is too tired to be. The part that should be relieved is too hurt to be. You just feelโฆ hollow.
Your friend plops down next to you, sliding a cup of hot chocolate into your hands like theyโre staging an emotional intervention.
โAnything new?โ she ask gently.
You show them the screen. They look at the messages, eyebrows rising higher and higher.
โHe is in shambles.โ
You sink deeper into the couch cushion, groaning into your knees. โโฆI donโt know what to do.โ
Because thatโs the truth, isnโt it? You donโt know.
It wasnโt a short fling. It wasnโt a messy situationship you could ghost your way out of. You and Robertโฆ you had years. A home. A life. A dogโwell, his dog, but Beef adored you like you personally invented treats.
You press your fingers to your temple. Even remembering the look on his face hurts. Not the anger, not the frustrationโthose you could weather. It was the way he didnโt choose you. The way he didnโt even realize he wasnโt choosing you.
Your friend nudges your shoulder gently. โYou donโt have to decide anything right now.โ
โI feel like if I donโt, it all falls apart.โ
She shakes her head. โSweetheartโฆ maybe itโs already falling apart. And maybe thatโs not all on you.โ
You stare at Robertโs last text.
I love yuo
Itโs pathetic. Itโs heartbreaking. And itโs himโmessy, reckless, self-destructive him. The version of him youโve held together a hundred times.
Your friend softens. โDo you still love him?โ
You swallow. The answer sits heavy on your tongue.
โโฆYeah. I do.โ
โBut,โ she says gently, โare you okay staying with someone who makes you walk out of your own home at six in the morning?โ
That question stays hanging in the air between youโheavy, sharp, and horribly true.
.
The next day feels like someone pressed โrepeatโ on your lifeโsame desk, same boring civilian job, same lukewarm office coffee. You clock in, sit down, and do your best impression of a functioning human being. You keep your phone face-down on the desk, notifications popping up every so often, tiny vibrations against the cheap laminate surface. Each time, your stomach twists. You donโt check it. You already know who it is. Robert, or some version of himโhungover, apologetic, desperate, spiraling. Youโre not ready to read any of it. Not today.
Curiosity is a murderer of cats. And unfortunately for you, you are a very nosy cat.
So you cave.
You drag the phone toward you, unlock it with a thumb that feels heavier than it should, and take a long sip of lukewarm coffee as the notifications load.
Exceptโฆ Itโs not Robert. Itโs Chase. Thatโsโ unexpected.
Youโd only met Chase a handful of times in the early days of dating Robert. Back when Robert still smiled easier, before the weight of his fatherโs death slammed into him so hard he shut down every soft part of himself. Chase had honestly been a lifeline during that periodโkind of an accidental older brother figure, a grounding presence that nudged Robert toward something healthier. But grief scattered everyone differently. Robert pulled back. Chase respected the distance. And then you were the one still checking in, making sure Chase knew Robert was breathing, eating, not completely self-destructing.
They only recently reconnected, and only because Chase was the one who suggested Blonde Blazer help push Robert into the SDN team. A change of scenery. A purpose. Something stable. Something that clearlyโฆ wasnโt.
You open Chaseโs message.
Chase (Track Star)
Hey, can you sneak us into the apartment later?
Weโre trying to set up a little celebration.
His mechโs getting rebuilt again and he hasnโt committed war crimes while working with the Z-Team, so thatโs a win.
Only if youโre cool with it.
Oh, Chase.
You exhale through your nose, head dropping slightly. Trust him to ask for something utterly impossible at the worst time.
Sorry, I canโt
Iโmโฆ not staying there for a while.
You stare at the sent message, the bubble glowing with the ugly truth of it. It takes Chase less than a minute to respond.
Chase (Track Star)
โฆAh.
You okay?
Heโs been a disaster since last night. Not my business, butโ
Do I need to whoop his ass like I used to when he was a kid?
I swear to god Iโll do it.
Old man strength is still REAL.
You two end up chattingโa quiet, easy back-and-forth that feels like a weird pocket of normalcy in your chaos. He asks if youโre okay, you lie and say youโre fine, and he doesnโt call you out on it, which you appreciate.
A quiet laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop itโsoft, unguarded, the first one youโve had since everything fell apart. You can almost picture Chase typing it, jaw clenched, trying to be gentle and absolutely failing.
You start typing a replyโ
But your phone buzzes again, nearly vibrating out of your hand.
Chase (Track Star)
OH SHIT
THE MECH IS GOING CRAZY
TTYL
You sit upright, eyebrows shooting up. Of course. Of course the damn mech picks now to have a meltdown.
what??
is he okay???
please text back when you can.
Then all you can do is stare at your phone, heartbeat shifting between worry for Chase, worry for the mech, andโgoddammitโworry for Robert. Every second of silence feeling heavier. Because no matter what happened last night, no matter how hurt or angry you are, the thought of Robert hurtโagainโmakes your chest tighten.
Even when youโre trying to step away, the universe refuses to let you stop caring about him.
.
Robert wakes to the sharp smell of antiseptic and the steady hum of medical machinery. His vision comes back in slow, blurry layers, shapes melting together before sharpening into something clearer. The first thing he registers isnโt the pain blooming under his ribs.
Royd is propped on a couch by the wallโbandages wrapped around his thick arms and forehead, clothes dusty and torn. Robert barely has time to process the sight before he shifts his gaze and finds Chase standing near the bed, arms crossed like heโs been stationed there for hours.
โWelcome back,โ Chase says, voice rough enough to scrape the ceiling.
โHow long was I out?โ Robert mutters.
Royd answers before Chase can. โFourteen, maybe fifteen hours.โ
They fill him in on the mech incidentโRoyd talks about the astral pulse, or rather, the lack of it. How he tried. How he failed. Thereโs defeat carved into every line of the manโs face, and no matter how Robert tries to reassure himโtell him it isnโt his fault, that he did everything he couldโRoyd doesnโt stay to hear it. He picks himself up, shoulders heavy, and leaves the room with quiet, dragging steps.
And suddenly, itโs just Chase.
Chase sighs and drags a chair next to the bed, dropping into it with the heavy thud of someone whoโs both tired and fed up. He studies Robert for a long second before shaking his head.
โWhat the hell is going on with you, Robert?โ
Robert doesnโt even pretend not to know who he means. โItโs complicated.โ
โComplicated,โ Chase repeats slowly, as if tasting the word. Then he snorts. โYeah. Sounds like code for โI fucked up.โโ
Robert scrubs a hand over his face, careful of the wires. โI did,โ he admits quietly. โI messed up. Bad. I said things I shouldnโt have. Took it out on them. All this pressure, the mech, the media, SDN, the teamโfuck, even Blonde Blazer. I justโฆ lost it.โ His throat tightens. โAnd they left. They didnโt even take their keys.โ
Chase leans forward, elbows on his knees. โYou know,โ Chase says finally, โwhen you were a kid and your dad would disappear for days, you used to pretend you didnโt care. But you did.โ
Robert looks away, jaw locking.
โYouโve always been terrified of becoming him,โ Chase continues softly. โBut the way you fix that isnโt by running from the people who love you. Who stuck by you when nobody else did? When you didnโt even like yourself.โ He shakes his head. โYou donโt throw that away because your life got complicated.โ
โI didnโtโฆ I never meant to hurt them,โ he whispers.
โI know,โ Chase says. โBut you did. And unless you want to lose them for good, you need to get your shit together. Not for the mech. Not for Blonde Blazer. Not for the damn city. For the person whoโs been with you all this time.โ
Chase lean closer, lowering his voice. โYou think they stayed with you all these years because it was easy? Dude, nothing about you has ever been easy.โ
A rough, humorless laugh escapes Robert. โThanks.โ
Chase rolls his eyes but keeps going. โThey stayed because thatโs love. Because youโre worth the work. Because when youโre not spiraling and self-destructing, youโre one of the most loyal, stubborn, big-hearted idiots on earth.โ
Robert looks down at Beef, fingers tangling in the fur. His voice cracks. โI donโt think theyโre coming back.โ
โYeah,โ Chase says gently, โnot if you keep doing this.โ
โYou wanna fix this? Then stop chasing the idea of being Mecha Man and be the goddamn man. Be present. Be honest. Stop hiding behind guilt and fear and other peopleโs expectations.โ
Robert presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. His breath shakes.
โI messed everything up,โ he whispers.
Chase squeezes his forearm. โThen fix it. Itโs not gone-gone, Robert. Theyโre hurt. Thereโs a difference.โ
A pause.
โAnd for the record? If you two ever get in this kind of shit again, I will whoop your ass.โ
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. After his coma you feel your boyfriend, Robert slowly drift away from you, and you don't know who's the man infront of you anymore.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. ANGST, Established relationship, emotional cheating(?), Robert's an asshole to reader
๐๐๐๐. idk why I chose violence since the finale's out. lol. btw new layout just dropped :3
[part 2] [part 3]
The man standing in front of you feels unfamiliar in a way that makes your chest ache. Heโs still your boyfriendโyour Robert, the one who kissed you softly before missions and tried to hide his worry in his dry humor. But ever since he woke up from his coma, itโs as if parts of him never made it back. Like pieces of him were blown apart that night, right along with the mech. You look at him sometimes and wonder if heโs really here or if youโre loving a ghost wearing his face.
You donโt blame him, not really. The mech that once towered over people is nothing more than burned scrap in the corner of your cramped apartment (Howโd he get it in, youโd never know). The astral pulse core is gone, the heart of the mech rendered irreparable. Mecha Man isโฆ not Mecha anymore.ย
Ever since the news broke about what happened to him, the world has been relentless. Questions about his future, disappointment in what he can no longer do, speculation on whether he was โstill hero material.โ You tell him not to read the headlines, not to let strangers' opinions carve deeper wounds into him, but he only grunts, shoulders stiffening as he looks away. He never argues with youโhe justโฆ withdraws.
Then everything shifts one night. He comes home late, the door clicking shut with more care than usual, as if heโs trying not to wake you. Thereโs a faint scent of alcohol on his breathโnot enough to be drunk, just enough to tell you heโd been somewhere. But what catches your attention isnโt the smell. Itโs the way he walks. His steps are lighter, almost energized. He said heโd gotten an opportunity. Said someone might be able to fix the mech.
โAre you sure about this, Robbie?โ you ask quietly as you sit up in bed, blankets pooling around your waist. Heโs halfway through peeling off his suit when he glances back at you. The lamplight cuts sharp edges along the scars that map out his ribs and shoulders, reminders of battles he didnโt always win. You watch him, your chest tightening as the worry youโve swallowed for months finally breaks the surface.
Robert pauses with his shirt in his hands, brow ticking upward in something between confusion and annoyance. โYeah,โ he says, his voice flat but certain. โIโm sure.โ He doesnโt look at you for longโjust long enough to make it clear he doesnโt intend to debate it. โItโs a real shot. Better than sitting around waiting for the world to forget I existed.โ
โRobertโฆโ you start, because you want to tell him you havenโt forgotten him, that youโre terrified of losing what little pieces of the old him you still recognize.
But he shakes his head once, dismissive. โItโll be fine,โ he mutters, turning his back to you as he tosses the suit aside. โI know what Iโm doing. Donโt worry about itโ
But you do. Because the man climbing into bed beside you isnโt the one who held your hand before every patrol. He isnโt the one who used to whisper soft promises into your shoulder, promising he'd come back safe. He feels like heโs drifting, slipping further away each night, and all you can do is reach for him in the dark and pray he doesnโt keep moving out of your grasp.
.
Youโve always known, deep in that quiet place where you store every soft thought about him, that Robert is a hero down to his bones. Even stripped of the mech, even stripped of the title, thereโs something unwavering in the way he sees the worldโsomething stubbornly, painfully noble. So when you learned that the โopportunityโ he mentioned was an offer to work as a dispatcher at the SDN while they helped rebuild the Mecha Man suit, you felt something in you loosen, like the first breath after drowning. It wasnโt the same as flying again, but it was something. A step. A direction. And he needed that more than anything.
He came home on his first day with his shoulders tense and his eyes fixed anywhere but on you. It was strangeโlike he didnโt want you to read his expression, didnโt want you to see whatever was bothering him. โRough first day,โ he mumbled, tossing his bag down with more force than necessary. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back, and told him it would be okayโthat his team probably just needed time to get used to him. He didnโt say anything, but you feel his body tense.
He took dispatching seriously, almost too seriously, considering the Z-Team consisted of former villains with chaotic tendencies and questionable moral compasses. He dragged you that weekend to every bookstore you two could find and bought self-improvement booksโthe kind with bold titles about leadership, conflict resolution, and emotional intelligence. You teased him gently about it, and he rolled his eyes, but you caught the way he tucked the books onto his nightstand like they mattered.
Then Monday morning came, and with it, a knock at your door that rattled your picture frames. You opened it to find a massive man in an SDN uniform, broad-shouldered and warm-smiled, practically filling the doorway.
โOh. Hi,โ you said, blinking up at him as your brain scrambled to process his sheer size.
โMorning,โ he greeted, voice deep but friendly. โNameโs Royd. Iโm here for the mech.โ
It took you a second to register the words. Rightโthe mech. You stepped back to let him in, and he gave a low whistle when he saw the state of the mech. Within minutes, the apartment turned into a slow, methodical disassembly line. You watched them lift battered plates and twisted components, carrying them out piece by piece. Royd moved with practiced ease for a man his size, cracking jokes with the others, offering you reassuring nods when he caught you watching.
Just before Royd heads back inside for another load, you tug gently at his sleeve. โTake care of him, will you?โ you say quietly, glancing toward where Robert is kneeling by a crate, sorting parts with a distant expression.
Royd pauses and gives you a warm, understanding nod. โYeah. I got him.โ
Once the truck pulled away, the truck clanking with the weight of the mech parts inside, Royd couldnโt help himself. He cast a teasing smile toward Robert in the passenger seat, โYour partner real sweet, you know that?โ
Robert rolled his eyes, shrugged with that half-hearted nonchalance he always slipped into when feelings got too close and said something about how you worry too much. He huffed, staring out the window, watching your apartment building slowly disappear.
Royd only chuckled under his breath and replied, โBut with good intention.โ
Robert doesnโt answer, but only purses his lips more.
.
He comes home late. Again.ย
The first time, he said he had a stack of reports to finish. The second time, he muttered something about a meeting running long. The excuses blur together; you tell yourself heโs just adjusting to his new job, that dispatching is stressful, that rebuilding a mech takes time. But deep down, a quiet dread begins to form, curling itself around your ribs. Somethingโs wrong. Somethingโs slipping. And he wonโt tell you what it is.
Tonight, you decide you canโt take that silence anymore.
When he walks through the door, dropping his bag by the couch with a tired sigh, you wait until he kicks off his boots. โRobbie?โ you say gently. โWhatโs going on?โ
He freezesโnot dramatically, but in that subtle way where his spine stiffens and he doesnโt look at you. โNothing,โ he mutters, brushing past you toward the kitchen. โJust work.โ
You move closer, your hand brushing his sleeve. โNo. I mean it. Whatโs actually going on? Youโve beenโฆ distant. And late. I just want to understand. If somethingโs bothering you, tell me. Iโm on your side.โ
He exhales sharply through his nose, irritation flickering across his face. โYouโre reading into things again.โ
โBecause you wonโt talk to me,โ you push gently, voice trembling despite your best efforts. โIโm not trying to smother you, Robbie. I justโฆ I care.โ
His jaw clenches. His shoulders tense. And suddenly the air between you feels tight, electric, like youโve stepped somewhere you shouldnโt have.
Then he snaps.
โDo you have anything else to do other than treat me like a baby?โ he spits out, the words sharp enough to slice right through you.
You blink, stunned. Your breath catches in your throat as his voice echoes in your head. Treat him like a baby? Is that what he thinks youโre doing? Your heart hammers as guilt floods your chest. You were just trying to ask. Just trying to care.
You swallow, voice barely above a whisper. โIโฆ didnโt mean it like that.โ
He sees your expression but barrels forward anywayโfrustration, guilt, and exhaustion twisting together until the words spill out harsher than he intends. โI had dinner with Blonde Blazer, okay?โ he blurts.
Your brows furrow in confusion. Blonde Blazer? That Blonde Blazer? The golden superstar who lights up every news broadcast? The impossibly beautiful hero you only ever see through a screen?
โShe asked,โ he says quickly, almost defensively. โI didnโtโ it wasnโtโโ He rubs a hand over his face, pacing a few steps away as though the room is too small. โWe almost kissed the night I came home drunk.โ The confession hangs heavy in the air, freezing your lungs. โBut I pulled back. I didnโtโฆ I didnโt do it.โ
Your throat goes dry. The night he had come home smelling faintly of alcoholโthe one night he seemed lighter, almost happy. You never imagined there was someone else in that story.
โAnd on my first day,โ he continues, staring at the floor as if he canโt bear to look at you, โI wanted to ask her to dinnerโฆ but I didnโt. I couldnโt.โ His voice cracks slightly. โI justโlook, we talked, okay? And itโs nice that at least someone sees something in me. Someone who can actually do something about it. About Mecha Man. Aboutโโ He gestures vaguely to himself. โAll of this.โ
The words hit harder than any villain ever could.
You stand there, feeling as though your heart has slowly tilted out of place. Itโs not anger. Itโs not jealousy. Itโsโฆ smallness. A sudden, heavy realization that maybe you were never meant to fit in his world the way you hoped. Youโre not a superhero. Youโre not part of the SDN. You donโt wear capes or save cities or rebuild mech suits from ashes.
Youโre justโฆ you. Youโre just a normal person, no powers, no fame, no legendary legacy. Youโve always known that. But you thoughtโnaively, apparentlyโthat being there for him mattered. That loving him mattered.
But you feel so small. Replaceable. A footnote in his larger-than-life story. And it hurtsโGod, it hurtsโbecause youโve loved him through everything. Through the coma. Through the grief. Through losing his mech, his title, his purpose. You stayed.
But he looks at you now like youโre a reminder of the life heโs outgrowing.
And you suddenly realize youโre already losing him.
๐น๐๐๐๐๐ ๐น๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ - ๐ด๐๐๐๐ ๐ด๐๐
โธ Thanks to Beef - Headcanon [fluff]
โธ One of Those Days - One Shot [angst?, comfort]
โธ Out of Commission - Drabble [smut]
โธ Drift Away - Miniseries [angst, hurt/comfort]
๐ท๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ - ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐-๐ผ๐
โธ I'm his babysitterโI mean his Manager! - Headcanon [fluff, crack?]
summary. Robert's been out of the hospital for a few days now, and what better way for you to take care of him than sucking him off?
content. MINORS DNI, SMUT, oral (m!receiving)
note. I can't write smut y'all... So here you go, my stupid attempt of making one (I'm still learning be nice ๐ญ)
Robertโs head fall back as a deep groan rumbled from his chest. It had only been a few days since heโd been discharged from the hospital, and you hadnโt stopped hovering over him since. Not that he blamed youโafter all, youโd spent the last four months watching him lie motionless in a coma. When he finally opened his eyes, you were the first thing he sawโhurling yourself at him with tears in your eyes and a trembling smile that nearly broke him.
It was sweet, reallyโ the way you fussed over him. Youโd been looking after him long before the accident, and now you seemed determined to keep doing it, as if letting him out of your sight might make him vanish again.
โSweetheartโฆโ Robertโs voice cracks on your name, leaving as a shuddering exhale. His good handโthe one without plaster and gauzeโ finds your head. His head tips back, eyes falling shut as your breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh. You can see the muscles in his thighs tense on either side of you as you look up, watching his face transform with anticipation.
โHm?โ
โYouโre killing me here.โ His eyes meet yours, heavy-lidded and pleading. Fingers tensing against your head but not pushing, the restraint in his hand, and the way his throat works as he swallows. The raw need in his expression sends heat coursing down your core.
You grin, youโve been needing this, and you know he has, too. Youโve seen the way his eyes linger on you as you prepare his meals, how he curses under his breath when he catches sight of his cast. The tension has been building between you two, a silent acknowledgment of your shared desire, and now itโs finally bubbling up to the surface.
You tried to keep things light, reminding him to take it easy in his recovery. Which you only got a grunt and a low huff from him as he muttered, โI can handle it.โ He insisted. Robert had always been stubborn, even now when he should be resting. But the determination in his eyes was unmistakable. He really needs you right now.
When the first hot, wet stroke of your tongue ran up to his tip, Robert nearly bucked off the bed with a gasp. โFuck! Yesโฆโ He felt you engulf him fully, taking him fully, sucking hard and fast, just like Robert needed. Wet heat enveloped his aching cock, your throat muscles rippling around him.
โYes, suck it harder!โ Robert gasped, his voice strained with desire. He had missed your touch more than he could express, and the sensation was more intense than he ever remembered. His body tensed as his balls drew up tight, a familiar pressure building at the base of his spine. He was already teetering on the edge, the months of longing finally catching up to him.
โBabyโฆ Iโm almost thereโฆโ Robert warned, his voice a low growl. You just moaned in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. With a final surge of strength, he lifted his hips and thrust deep into your eager mouth, releasing himself with a hoarse cry of ecstasy.
โFuuuckโฆ take it all, babyโฆโ Robertโs eyes rolled back as his release pulsed through him, each wave more powerful than the last. His entire body shook with the intensity of it, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. When it was finally over, he collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent and panting heavily. โGoddamn, that was incredibleโฆโ
You grin, climbing up and wiping your mouth clean. Climbing on top of his lap, you feel the heat between you intensify as you straddle him. Robert's eyes widen in surprise and anticipation, his hands instinctively moving to your waist.
"W-what are you doing sweetheart?" he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and desire.
"You didn't think that was the end of it, hm?" you respond with a playful smirk, leaning in close so that your breath teases his ear. "I've been waiting for this for too long, and I know you have too."
You press your lips to his, feeling the electricity spark between you. Robert's hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, it's intoxicating. You can feel his heartbeat racing, matching your own.
As the night deepens, you both find yourselves lost in a whirlwind of passion. The months of longing and anticipation finally give way to a night of unbridled desire. You move together with a familiarity that comes from knowing each other intimately, your bodies responding to each other's touch as if they were made for this moment. The room is filled with the soft sounds of your lovemaking, whispers of love and need that echo off the walls.
summary. When a rough day at SDN pushes you to the edge, Robert's there, steadying you in ways you didn't expect.
content. Depiction of panic attack
note. This is just me projecting because I had a panic attack in my uni library (final semester do that for you :D)
The SDN has days that just blends together, long hours of dispatchers talking to their comms, a cup of cheap brand of coffee that the break room gives, and footsteps from heroes that come in and out of their mission. But today feels heavier than usual, like you just woke up on the wrong side and now the world has decided your patience is something that needs to be squeezed dry.
Your headset presses against your ears, voices fading in and out between distressed civilians, a hero shouting something about interference, and the too-bright map of the city pulsing green on your monitor. Your fingers fly across the keyboard as more alerts ping into your queue. One of your heroes is requesting clearance into a corporate building currently under โhigh security lockdown.โ
Which means you have to get eyes inside that structure.
You try to steady your breathing, but your chest feels too tight. SDNโs contracts allowing you to tap into the property system-connected surveillance, if the customer signed service waivers (and if they understand the contract). But this one is a hard nut to crack. Layered security, too many firewalls, too many nested encrytions. Too many yellow bars flashing ACCESS DENIED.
Your hands shake. You blink hard. Your heroโs voice rings in your ears
โHey dispatcher? Did we lose feed? I need intel on the building, I think theyโre jamming somethingโhello? Dispatch?โ
Your breathing spikes. Your heart squeezes. You swallow against a rising heat in the back of your eyes. Your throat tightens.
Not here. Please not right now.
You clench your jaw and force your fingers to keep moving across the keys. Youโve done this before. Youโve done this hundreds of times. If you can justโ
You felt you chair gently rolls backward. You donโt even realize someone is behind you until you feel the shift of motion, the soft tug of wheels, the grounding sense of a steady hand carefully pushing the chair away from the desk. You blink, startled, heart still hammering as you turn your head.
A small, round, fluffy black-and-white dog gets set gently in your lap.
โHold him for me,โ a voice says, low and even.
You glance up just in time to see Robert sliding into your chair, his long fingers already flying across your keyboard. He doesnโt even look at you, expression unreadable, focused on the screen.
โRobert, you donโt have toโโ
โQuiet,โ he mutters. โYouโre shaking.โ
You glance down and realize heโs right. Your hands tremble slightly where you hold Beef against your chest. The small dog snuggles into your uniform, warm and oblivious, his soft fur a strange kind of anchor.
You swallow your words and let Robert take over.
He works fast, his fingers move like breaching through security is an essay task for him, it probably is. Within moments, the locked feed cracks open, showing empty hallways, a villain holding their weapon ready. Heโs calm the entire time, his face lit by the slight glow of the screen, eyes sharp and focused.ย
When heโs done, he leans back to look at you. โFeedโs open. Tell your team to move.โ
You nod quickly, fumbling to roll back to your desk. You call out to your hero โYouโre clear to enter. Visual confirmed on the target.โ
Your voice steadies as you speak, the panic fading as quickly as it came. When you finally look back at Robert, heโs already standing, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He glances down at Beef snuggling up against your chest.
โKeep him for a while,โ he says dryly. โYou look like you need emotional support more than I do.โ
You open your mouth to argue, but heโs already walking away.
.
Lunch break doesnโt come soon enough.
The mission ends successfully, and the adrenaline crash hits hard. The chaos in your mind dulls to a low throb, leaving behind exhaustion that seeps deep into your bones. You duck into the restroom first, splash cold water on your face, and stare at your reflection under the harsh fluorescent light. You look exhausted. Pale under the harsh fluorescent lights, eyes rimmed with fatigue.
Robert didnโt have to help you. He didnโt have to save you. But he did.
You grip the edge of the sink, guilt twisting in your chest. It wasnโt his responsibility to pull you out of that spiral. Heโs got enough weight on his shouldersโhis rag-tag group of reformed villains, and heโs new too. The least you couldโve done was hold yourself together.
By the time you walk into the break room with your lunch in hand, youโve rehearsed your apology three different ways. You immediately notice him there. Robert is sitting in the farthest seat, eating his sandwich like heโs got all the time in the world. He looks up the moment you enter. Just a flick of the eyes. No judgement.ย
You stand there for a moment, clutching your lunch like a lifeline, all those rehearsed words in your mind just gone.
โRobert,โ you manage quietly. โIโฆ wanted to say Iโm sorry about earlier.โ
He doesnโt stop chewing. Doesnโt blink. โDonโt,โ he says flatly.
You shuffled forward, sitting across from him because standing felt too vulnerable. โNo, I mean it. I wasnโtโฆ I wasnโt doing well. I justโฆ I donโt want you to think I'm unreliable. Or like, I'm dumping work on you. Orโ"
โStop.โ His gaze meets yoursโbrown, steady, and unreadable. โIf you were unreliable, you wouldnโt care so much about whether you were.โ
The words hit harder than you expect. For a second, you canโt think of anything to say.
He studies you for a long moment, then sighs, leaning back in his chair, arms folded loosely. โYou donโt owe me anything. You had a rough day. Happens to everyone.โ
โNot to you,โ you mutter before you can stop yourself.
He arches an eyebrow. โWhat makes you think that?โ
โYou justโฆ always look like you have it together,โ you admit. โYou donโt flinch. You donโt panic. Iโve seen you juggle five crises at once without blinking.โ
He smirks, a hint of wryness tugging at his mouth. โFunny. Because I flinch at everything around me.โ
You donโt push. Thereโs something about his tone that suggests the topic is a door best left closed. You focus on unwrapping your lunch, silence settling between you. Itโs not uncomfortable, just quiet, the hum of vending machines filling the space.
After a while, you say softly, โStill. Let me do something. To thank you.โ
He blinks. โForโฆ doing my job?โ
โFor saving mine,โ you correct. โSeriously, I mean it. I want to make up for it somehow.โ
He gives you that half-smile again, the one thatโs mostly sarcasm but a little bit warmth. โYouโre really going to lose sleep over this, huh?โ
You open your mouth to protest.
He points at you with his sandwich. โDonโt.โ
You close it again.
A beat passes. Then, quietly, โWell, Iโm still going to do something. Because I want to. And you canโt stop me.โ
Robert exhales through his nose, that half-sigh-half-laugh sound he does when heโs given up pretending not to care. โFine. But donโt make it weird.โ
You smileโsmall, tired, but genuine. โI wonโt.โ
He studies you for another long second, eyes softening just slightly. โThen weโre good.โ
I love Beef so muchโฆ I want to give him so many petsโฆ
Anywayโ this is about Robert (and Beef).
Youโre also a dispatcher, doing your thing, taking care of your team
And suddenly you felt a presence
A small furry loaf of bread is sniffing your backpack thatโs hanging on your chair
You blink. He blinks. Instant connection.
You feed him pieces of your lunch, because cmon itโs Beef, youโd do anything for him
And then he just hangs out under your desk
It has become a routine every day now.
Every time around your break time, Beef just struts to your cubicle and just looks at you demanding his โBeef Taxโ.
You learn from Chase that his name is Beef, and somehow it fits the dog.
One day, when you had beef napping on your lap, you hear:
โI think you have something of mine.โ
You turn around and there he was
Robert Robertson, with his fine ass, tired-looking, sad cat energy, a mess, functioning only with caffeine injected in his blood, the MAN.
He looks at you at first, unreadable, and then nods to the dog on your lap.
โOh. shit- yeah- sorryโ
He is smirking under his breath.
You try to explain (terribly), that you only give the dog little pieces of your food (thatโs a lie, you made a stop to buy dog treats the other day)
Robert just shrugs and says that itโs fine. Youโre a better food supply for Beef than he is (I swear this manโs life is a mess outside of being a superhero)
You two just kind of talk after, about your team, his team, how he's doing so far since heโs new.
And it just feltโฆ nice. Heโs dry and sarcastic. But not mean, you can tell he takes his job seriously. (thatโs attractive)
The day just goes on, and it's time to go back home.
He walks back to your cubicle, taking Beef back into his arms.
Robert just smiles slightly, watching you pack your things, โSee you around.โ
He nods and walks away. Probably back to his own desk to pack up himself.
But your eyes linger on him, and you can't help but thank Beef in some way that you get to talk to Robert.
