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eureka-its-zico · 1 month ago

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Residuals Pt. 4

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: First, I read an article on burns to try and make this as accurate as possible, (article here by the NIH) but it’s still not terribly accurate. So, please, I tried lol. Secondly, I’m still screaming at the amount of love you guys have shown this series. Truly, I appreciate it more than y’all know. Thirdly, enter in a little extra dash of drama by Gloria (who redeemed herself in ep.12 but we ain’t there yet) and ya girl is just having a rough-ass day. Fourthly, yeah…she’s a thick chapter. Hopefully, it's still good because I’ve edited it as much as I can. As always, I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for the support and for being here. Much Love, Jenn

Warnings: Mentions of death, language

Words: 10k +

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Whitaker proved to be an adept student. He followed directions well and answered whatever questions you threw his way about proper wound care at home and possible infection risks around the burned areas. When you’d finished with the first patient, you ensured he knew to return to the emergency room immediately if they experienced any new or persistent discomfort, like pain or tenderness in the area, increased warmth, discoloration, or advanced swelling.

“If the infection is invasive and takes hold of the wound, what is the main course of treatment, Dr. Whitaker?”

“We would contact surgery.”

“Correct. Why?”

“The need for surgery would be based on the high concentration of the bacteria levels found present in the wound.”

“We’d check for signs of possible sepsis and a full check-up to narrow down if it's gram-negative or positive bacteria, which tells us further about our treatment plan. What is the chief cause of burn wound infections?”

“Staphylococcus Aureus - MRSA.”

“How would we verify the patient had MRSA or any other type of possible bacterial infection?”

“By taking a sample from the area for testing -“

“You guys aren’t about to cut me up or anything, are you?”

The sudden input from the patient caused a nervous tick from Whitaker. It halted his hands from finishing the last few loops around with the gauze. The patients' eyes darted nervously from you to Whitaker and back again. You gave your best reassuring smile while making sure the dressing was secured on his chest and shoulder.

“Well, Kyle, the faster we get you out of here, you take the antibiotics I prescribe you, and make sure you keep your burns dressed and away from exposure to possible germs, then no. We won’t be ‘cutting you up’ today.”

“Okay. Cool. Because that sounds really uncool.”

Dilaudid truly did wonders for conversations. You’d have to make sure the discharge papers were clear on his care and warning signs to look out for. Plus, add extra emphasis on trying to make sure not to share any items in the frat house bathroom.

In truth, it wasn’t him, but his fellow frat boy neighbor in four that had you worried. So far, he showed no obvious signs of infection, but once the adrenaline of the moment wore off he noticeably seemed to slip into shock at having half his face, eyelashes, and eyebrow singed off. Not enough shock, however, to keep from asking if he’d make a handsome Harvey Dent for Halloween.

The burns to his neck and chest indicate to you he was closer to the fire pit than his buddy Whitaker currently patched up. You’d ordered blood work, x-rays, and a culture swab on two-face and his friend just to rule out any surprises.

You did your full assessment, asked questions, and directed Whitaker the best you could. You wanted to be the good mentor like Adamson and Singh had been for you. A good mentor like Robby was too. You would never admit it out loud but a small piece of you wanted Robby to see how capable you were. A silent bid to prove he could trust you with his interns and medical students. Between Robby, Abbot, and the previous attendings you knew you could teach.

It wasn’t a hidden thing that you’d both meet here during your residency. Yes, it was Adamson’s circus, but Robby thrived under Adamson’s direction and the insanity the Pitt offered. He was funny, charismatic, incredibly smart, and showed a level of empathy that bordered on worrisome at times. A tidal wave of grief encapsulated him and carried him under if he wasn’t careful. Robby was exactly the physician any patient should want taking care of them when they arrived in the ED.

And hell, you weren’t blind. Anyone with eyes could see that Robby was handsome. Painstakingly, stupidly, egregiously, fucking handsome. It was fucking criminal.

Robby taught you so much in the time you’d spent here and you knew he probably still could but that would mean being around him. The two of you standing closer than you’d been in years was proving to be a dangerous thing. He’d fallen back into the habit of stealing touches and you’d fallen back into the habit of shamelessly teasing him with things he’d usually make you pay for later trapped between his body and whatever surface in your house.

It was a dangerous game neither of you realized you were playing, and both of you were losing fast. Instead of having your focus one hundred percent on the patients and being back in the ED for the first time in years, your focus repeatedly returned where it shouldn’t. At first, you could lie to yourself and say you were simply scanning the hallways and nursing stations to make sure you didn’t see him. Of course, that’s what you wanted to believe; to coast through this shift without any additional emotional trauma following you home.

It was fucking impossible.

You could continue to lie to yourself all you wanted, but the truth was blatantly clear. Your eyes didn’t comb over the hallways and desks in hopes of not finding him. You didn’t quickly peer into rooms in anticipation that he wouldn’t be in one. You wanted to see him just as much as you denied that you didn’t.

The day you left, you made sure to do it while Robby was working because you knew, that if he’d been home and asked you to stay, you would’ve. And if he didn’t fight for you - never uttered a singular word of pleading to keep you from leaving, you weren’t sure you could survive it.

So now you found yourself hopelessly looking for him in all the places you swore you’d never go again. You may have chosen to leave, but it never meant you stopped loving him. The fact you were still in love with him made seeing the lost look in his eyes sting harder. You watched as he spoke to the parents of the kid who overdosed with no possible hope of waking up again, and you wanted to go to him. It was the shattering look of grief that made you forget how to move. Robby knew what was coming better than anyone else did.

How many times was Robby the one in charge of giving the heartbreaking news that loved ones weren’t coming home? Shouldering the burden of listening to the breakdown of their world and being the pillar of strength and comfort while families struggled to rearrange?

You hadn’t realized the black hole of anxiety was leading you down a rabbit hole until the sound of Whitaker calling out, “Dr. Fullerton,�� at your side left you practically jumping out of your skin.

Shit. How long had you been zoned out? Hopefully, you hadn’t said anything weird. Or incriminating.

“Sorry,” he swiftly followed up. “I was trying to ask where we were off to next, but, uh, you seemed a little…preoccupied.”

“Oh, yeah, no sorry. You can go back to the red zone. I’m just going to help McKay up in triage.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, not at all. You’ll have more of a chance to learn with Langdon and Collins.” What you actually meant was to see more if that was what he was into. “Also, maybe check on your last patient I pulled you away from earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You watched him take your advice and, in real time, get ready to dispute it. “Why am I checking back in with Mr. Milton?”

What should you tell him? In the Pitt, it was easy to be thrown from one patient to the next - forgetting their faces and names as the minutes blurred into hours. Easy to forget they were waiting on test results that needed to be read by you and needed a treatment plan discussed and planned by you. Major issues could present as something small, something easily missable until further testing exposed the truth of the situation. If you went just the smallest amount of time without checking the results, without popping your head in for a visual, well, it wasn’t hard to imagine how sometimes those major issues finally presented themselves and everything got much, much worse.

“Look, Whitaker. As much as the powers constantly stress about getting people in and out quickly like this is a drive-thru, we have an obligation to each patient to give them the best care we can. It means staying on top of orders and checking in regularly. Trust me, Whitaker, things can change quickly down here.”

“Okay, yeah. That makes perfect sense. Thanks, Dr. Fullerton.”

“You bet. See you around, Whitaker.”

He gave you an awkward wave and didn’t move right away. It wasn’t until you turned away from him that you heard him shuffle on his feet. A part of you was curious if you glanced behind you he’d still be standing there, deciding where to go.

All that mattered to you was that you currently needed a new patient. It didn’t matter what the chief complaint was. Ideally, for the all-seeing eye of admin, quick and easy ones would look better. At this rate, you were positive your Press Ganey score was dipping. You were seeing patients at the speed of an R3; two patients per hour and they were after fast and loose results. But you wanted something with the capability to keep you occupied for hours. Preferably something that would require so much of your attention it would force you out of your head.

Yeah, that would be good. It was too damn early still to be spiraling into a midlife crisis just because you had to work with your ex. An ex, you realized, who was wearing the damn navy blue hoodie you’d bought him on his last fishing trip to Canonsburg.

No. No. Nope. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him or stupid hoodies or the gold chain of his necklace that used to drag over your collarbone. How your fingers curled around the thin chain, using it like a lead, to bring him down on top of you on the couch. Absolutely not - you were at work and he was your ex. He was your ex and you shouldn’t fucking care how you could still tell after all these months he was sleeping like shit.

You were almost back to Dana’s station, the monitor looming overhead like a beacon to salvation when you noticed Whitaker walking in tandem beside you. You cocked a brow in question that Whitaker rushed to answer.

“The board is this way, so…”

Right. You knew that.

“I was trying to talk to you but I think you were in deep thought or something. Again.”

Or something. God. That was twice. Twice your head was everywhere else but where it needed to be, which was at work. You should’ve fought harder when Gloria came to reassign you, but none of this should’ve mattered.

You were a damn good doctor. You’d trained under the best, learned from the best, and kept progressively learning and didn’t stop. You spent years of your life on this because helping people was your passion. It shouldn’t matter where you were placed if you were down here to help for days, months, or years.

Yet, in the matter of an hour, your mind waded into memories that were better off left for dead with your eyes searching for someone you shouldn’t.

You didn’t know how to answer him. “Sorry, I should remember where everything is but find myself stuck daydreaming about the past and looking for signs where I shouldn’t and sexually fantasizing about your attending”, didn’t seem appropriate to tell a med student. So, you ended with a weak, “Sorry about that,” which passed for understanding. It made you feel like an ass, but you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

You came to a stop just a few feet from Dana’s desk. Her back turned to you as she went through folders preparing patient's charts for transfer upstairs. Her eyes shifted up at the board and over to a newer resident you hadn’t met yet.

Her gaze was fixed on the monitor; eyes scanning rapidly down the chart as if there was a code that needed cracking. You knew that look. It was a shared one you’d no doubt mirrored only an hour ago.

“What do you need, Fullerton?”

Your head swiveled back to Dana and found her now facing you, her glasses removed, and waiting for your answer.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Are you kidding?” The question fell out of her in a chuckle. “You’re the only one I know who goes around taping on every damn surface when they’re thinking. You act like my five-year-old grandson, just less noisy. Barely.”

“That’s offensive,” you pointed out.

“For who? You or my grandson.”

You felt the first crack in your defenses tug at the corners of your mouth. If you weren’t careful, Dana’s whip-smart comments were going to make you fold back into a routine you hadn’t been a part of in a while. It wasn’t just you who was slipping at this point, and you clocked the moment Dana began to realize it too.

She was supposed to be upset with you - grumpy, mean remarks only. You were supposed to take them and dish them back so you could comfortably stay in your bubbles of denial and anger. The denial of what, exactly, was achingly easy to see.

You both missed each other. More than either of you were willing to admit.

Your reply sat cocked and loaded on your tongue when you remembered what transpired half an hour before. As much as you missed one another, you had to be careful with what you shared around her. It was obvious, whatever the ‘It’ may be, Robby would magically seem to find out.

“Any quick ones up here? It’s only 8:30, and Robby’s already on my case for being too slow. I can usually at least make it to lunch before he starts hounding me.”

Your attention swiveled back towards the resident. Her gaze fixed on the board before glancing between Dana and you. Hopefully, her question wasn’t meant for you to answer. You weren’t very good at picking off the board either.

“Cut him a little slack today, ok? It’s the anniversary of Dr. Adamson’s death.”

Of course, Dana would cover for him. Intercept all incoming rapports of Robby being prickly and sometimes downright mean to bury them under the rug of understanding.

Yes, it was the anniversary of Adamson’s death. It always would be. Grief wasn’t easy. It was messy and unrelenting in the moments it chose for sights, smells, and touch to materialize memories that recalled moments you wouldn’t get the chance to share with them again. A constant reminder of all that we lost. Time didn’t seal up that cavern their loss created; it just became more manageable over time.

Robby never coped. Never allowed himself to grieve, heal, and thrive in the good memories he did have. The doubts and guilt haunted him every day in every step, every decision, he made. He housed it inside him like a ghoul in a cemetery feasting on the remains of who he was before Adamson’s death - before the pandemic.

“That’s sad. But it’s still no reason to take it out on me. I’m just saying.”

You liked her. She got it. You wanted to properly introduce yourself. By the look on Dana’s face, you need to do it quickly before she breaks out into a lecture. Luck wasn’t on your side because Whitaker beat you to the punch.

You didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation but you also didn’t want to go back to having a conversation with Dana, either. It left you the only option of staring back up at the beloved board. You’d just decided on 7 North when Dr. Collins walked by, her hands digging in the glovebox on the wall to retrieve a pair. Her eyes were on Whitaker and yours were on her.

It wasn’t a secret that Robby and Heather had dated. Well, maybe to those in the Pitt, and not including Perlah or Princess because they suspiciously seemed to be psychic. Or just really loved to gossip. No, you’d learned about them when a friend spotted Robby and Heather out on a date. You’d only assumed it was a date because she repeatedly kept using the word cozy.

And why should you have cared? It’d been almost a year since you’d left. You chose to leave and that meant making him free to date and find new love or whatever. You didn’t have a right to lay claim to him just because he’d been yours. And Heather? She was gorgeous. She was fucking brilliant, with a beautiful smile, and it suddenly made you feel uncharacteristically subconscious.

Whether it’d been a date or they just seemed cozy (it was a damn date) you shouldn’t have felt jealous. You were fine. It was perfectly fine and healthy for people to seek out relationships and companionship. It was normal and you were fine. You weren’t any saint either. You’d dated someone briefly and, if you were honest with yourself, you could’ve stayed in that relationship. It was nice and easy. Simple. But you didn’t love him and you weren’t sure if you ever could.

The problem of loving Robby - still being in love with Robby - was that he stood witness to your most intimate memories of love. There were stories woven into your bones that bore witness to the man he was and how he loved you. They were told in joy and tragedy, laughter and sadness. When Nathan kissed you, the earth kept spinning. He didn’t taste of bourbon or smell of leather and sandalwood. He didn’t spend time in the backyard sanding down tables or staining decks. He didn’t wear glasses that somehow slid minute by minute inch down his nose until he subconsciously tilted his head back to see.

In the end, you left because of one glaring fact: Nathan would never be - could never be - Robby.

Dr. Collins told Whitaker to come with her for a teaching experience - an unconscious unhoused man was being brought in. Whitaker quickly moved to follow her lead in grabbing a pair of gloves just in time for the paramedics to wheel in the gurney. Said man was very much unconscious and appeared very much unhoused.

Your time playing the gawking bystander had come to an end and you needed to get to 7 North. You pushed away from the counter when you were stopped by the resident from earlier barreling into your line of sight.

“Dr. Fullerton? I’m Dr. Samira Mohan - R3. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Mohan stuck out her hand and you accepted it warmly. Besides the obvious annoyance from Robby hounding her existence, it seemed Dr. Mohan was friendly. She held a kind air about her that reminded you of Robby - only now that kindness held an edge of grumpiness because his empathy was playing an overwhelming game. By the sleepless bags under his eyes, you could tell he was losing.

You wanted to point the probability of this out to her, maybe offer her a consultation for Robby’s apparent hard-ass demeanor, but quickly shoved it off.

“It’s nice to meet you, as well, Dr. Mohan.”

“Would it be okay if I could confer with you later?” Dr. Mohan’s eyes shifted to where Dana stood only inches away. “In private?”

You weren’t sure if you should be flattered or wanting to run for the hills. Dana’s eyes practically bore into the back of your head, waiting to hear your answer. You knew no matter what you chose to say this was getting back to Robby.

Fuck it.

“Of course, Dr. Mohan. I’ll come and find you after my next patient.”

“Thank you. I look forward to speaking with you.”

She cut a cautious glance over her shoulder and turned on her heel towards the south hallway. It must have been nice to make an easy exit. It was definitely something you were down to try but Dana stood closer to the counter, her glasses down the bridge of her nose, and accused you with a look of being a troublemaker. Your only defense was a shrug.

“What?”

“What the hell was that about?”

Your brows converged together as you shrugged again.

“How am I supposed to know, Dana? I haven’t even talked to her yet.”

“Talked to who about what?”

Fucking kill me.

What was with today? Were you unknowingly walking around with a ‘Kick Me,’ sign written by life? You’d gone over two years without ever running into Robby and within an hour in a half, you couldn’t seem to avoid him.

And why was he standing so fucking close again?

You didn’t need to glance over to your left to know he was close. The heat of his body, the nudge of his elbow against your arm informed you at breakneck speed you were close. Too fucking close, Michael.

“Mohan seems to want to speak with Fullerton. In private.”

“You couldn’t just wait for me to answer, Dana?”

The words rose up your throat like bile, acidic with its irritation. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t need this shit. You didn’t know what Dr. Mohan wanted but the cryptic way she asked wasn’t doing you any favors. It was at this moment you finally chose to look in Robby’s direction. He was leaning into his elbow that rested on the counter. Even with his body slightly slouched the height difference was substantial causing you to crane to look up at him.

The problem with this? He was close enough that your temporal lobe was overloaded with thousands of memories of his thumb gliding across your lips. Large hands taking hold of your neck and tilting you back at just the right angle for his lips to claim yours.

When you were no longer held hostage to the sensory manipulation your brain concocted, you prayed to whoever was listening that you didn’t look as lovestruck as you felt. By the dark glint in Robby’s eyes, you were doing a piss poor job at being Switzerland.

“What? So you can conveniently disappear by the end of the shift without any context or explanation? No, thanks. Been there. Done that. Not a fan of the outcome.”

“This bipolar verbal assault is getting real tiring, Dana,” you huffed.

“Alright. Alright, enough!” Robby cut in. “I expect this behavior from patients, not my staff. Now, Dr. Fullerton, what did Dr. Mohan want to discuss with you?”

“Jesus Christ,” you sighed, “I have no fucking clue, okay? She just asked if she could speak in private and seeing as how she did ask for it to be private, I don’t see why you need to know.”

“Ugh,” a dry huff of what might have passed for a laugh - a cough maybe? - exited his lips. His brow was drawn tight while he looked at you. No doubt wondering where you’d gained the audacity. “Because this is my emergency department. I’m in charge of the entire thing and I think I need to be aware of what is going on with my staff.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped acting like an ass to said staff they wouldn’t be seeking outside counsel.”

A mirthless laugh exploded from between his lips. The sound carried part of the disbelief his eyes showed while he took you in. He was no longer leaning against the counter but had his arms crossed against his chest. You weren’t sure if he was looking at you like he wanted to throttle you or found you unbelievable. Neither option would make you a winner if you guessed right.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he grumbled under his breath. “Are you a fucking counselor all of a sudden?”

“And what if I was? I would ask if you’d require my services, but we both know you’re allergic to seeking help.”

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. You were bringing up personal shit - inviting a possible fucking mess to happen - and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You kept poking the proverbial bear and damn it, you weren’t exactly sure you felt bad about doing it. Were you so desperate for a reaction from him - after all this time? What the hell was it going to prove?

You watched the storm of emotions roll in. The deep set of his forehead and the dark clouds that zapped all residual warmth from his eyes. You weren’t sure if Robby was even aware he’d taken a step towards you, jaw flexing, and body slowly seeping into whatever free space you had left.

Whatever words he would’ve said died in the aftermath of hearing shouts a few rooms down. It jarred you both out of your staring contest and sent him into action. One minute he was standing in front of you, the next, he was running to see what the commotion was.

The second Robby was removed from your space, you took a deep breath in. Why did it feel like you were in a constant state of fight or flight? Your answer came in a set of blue eyes who homed in on you the moment Robby was gone.

“When’s your next smoke break?”

“Who says I still smoke?”

“Dana, be serious. The day you quit smoking is the day hell freezes over. So - when?”

She regarded you for a moment. The scale in her mind no doubt weighed if this was going to be worth her time or possibly ruining her nicotine break.

“I usually take it around 9:30. Why? You suddenly have the urge to open up?”

“Do you want to talk or not?.”

She could bitch, make jokes, and moan and groan all she wanted. You knew offering up a chance to talk would be all Dana would need to agree. Was it something you honestly wanted to do? Not really. Were you willing to do it so that at least you had one less person hounding you the rest of your shift?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Ah, what the hell. I’ll see you on break kid.”

A sigh of relief eased through you and you prayed Dana hadn’t noticed. You didn’t think she’d agree but, now that she had, you had a tiny ounce of hope this day wasn’t going to be so much of a shit show.

“What was all that screaming about?”

You knew the question wasn’t directed at you. Robby must have made his return and the soft laughter wasn’t what you expected to hear.

“We seem to have involuntarily just admitted rats,” he replied.

“You’re kidding?” Dana scoffed.

“If only I was. Whitaker was saying it was about three or four of them.”

“And on that note,” you drummed your hands on the counter, “I am going to 7 North.”

It wasn’t until you went to take a step forward you noticed the weight on your left foot. A weight that felt like something was sitting directly on it. You looked down just in time to watch a rat - a damn rat - scurry off your foot to run around the edge of the nursing station.

What you did next wasn’t your proudest moment. You even used to pride yourself on being rational when it came to rodents. The shout that clawed its way from the depths of your stomach proved you wrong at lightning speed.

You felt your body jump backward and collide with Robby. His hands were on your hips to steady you. You were bouncing back and forth on your heels, eyes scanning the area to make sure no further surprises snuck up on you. Your arms were bunched up at your sides and you were trying to talk yourself down from sweeping the remaining area with your leg. Just for good measure.

It was the feeling of his hands on your waist, the soft sound of his chuckle touching your hair that brought you careening back down to earth. Robby was close. Not like last time when your arms touched - closer than when he followed behind you into Allan's room. Even through your scrubs, you could feel the scorching heat of his palms spreading like wildfire through the fabric that sent your heart racing.

He should’ve let go by now. The threat of you possibly knocking him over or you both tripping and falling was over. He could let go. He could just let go, but Robby’s hands were holding you firmly in place with neither of you willing to move. You refused to look behind you - afraid of what he might see if you did.

You were afraid of what you might see if you dared to look too.

Slowly, you took a step forward, disengaging his hands from you. The sensation of loss was instant and you almost stepped back into him. Your body and mind were at war between desire and being rational. Fuck being rational. There was nothing rational about the way your heart brutalized your ribs. The need to ask stupid fucking questions that no longer mattered. The consuming way your body craved for him to wrap his large hand around your throat, whispering words of filth into your ear.

You had to get away before you made a mistake.

“Sorry about that. I’m going to just, ugh, go do my rounds now.”

You didn’t turn around while you softly spoke. You may have been delusional at times, but you weren’t crazy. If you looked back and Robby’s eyes gave away any hint of emotion - anything that sparked that dying ember of hope inside you - you would crumble.

You should’ve fought harder to stay upstairs in family medicine or threatened Gloria with firing you. You were safer there. Now, you were rushing off to remember what patient room you were going to with Robby’s cologne clinging to your skin.

You were a pain in the ass. But you were his pain in the ass.

Used to be, his mind reminded him.

Could still be, came his stupid heart's reply.

Robby used to love it when you challenged him; called him out on his bullshit. You weren’t afraid to stand in the current of his disapproval or to openly have a debate, especially when you could see he was missing something. You challenged each other to be open-minded to change, because it happened so fast, and to accept that being wrong wasn’t failure but a moment to grow and learn.

When you both stopped being open with one another, and being honest with yourselves, was when the challenging energy took a turn. Everything felt like a confrontation. Even in moments when the constructive criticism came from colleagues - from you - it felt like an attack he had to defend against.

Robby saw it in you too. The small hints of walls slowly being built to keep the inquiries at bay. When your responses become short and brief or not at all.

Now, before nine o’clock, you were in the Pitt not only wreaking havoc on his already fragile mental state but accusing him of…what? When you’d thrown the counselor's comment at him, Robby wanted to rage. How many times was it the main part of your arguments near the end of your relationship that he needed to talk to somebody? Anybody. How many times did he deny it?

You’d thrown it in from the sidelines and it jarred him so much, Robby felt disoriented. For the briefest moment, Robby forgot that you were no longer together. His mind reflexively thought you were arguing about the same old tired thing. He’d taken a step toward you and wanted to ask, “And what about you?”

You who wasn’t as honest and open with yourself just like him. There were things left unsaid between the two of you - the things that eventually buried the hatchet too far in to safely remove.

What about all the times he’d found you in the bathroom sitting against the tub crying in the middle of the night? Your panic attacks and OCD tendencies that started after…

Every time Robby reached out to be there for you, your response was always the same.

“It’s nothing, Michael.” “I’m fine.” “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sure, Robby wasn’t open and was guarded in his own right but neither were you. Where he used to read the transcript of your emotions so delicately on your face, you’d closed yourself off to him and he no longer knew how to get in.

An angry shout from down the South hallway thankfully tore his attention back to reality. His feet were already moving him robotically forward where he could see Olson entering Central 15.

“Whoa, whoa what is going on?”

Robby directed the question specifically to one of his many team members in the room. Thankfully, Kiara started to explain or, more appropriately attempted to explain but he couldn’t fucking think through all the damn shouting.

“Ok, ok, okay ENOUGH!” Robby couldn’t believe he was already raising his voice. Yelling at grown-ass adults like they were children. “This is a hospital. This isn’t ‘ The Jerry Springer Show’.” Although it was really, really starting to fucking feel like it with the morning he was having. “Ma’am, nobody’s trying to take your child. So why don’t you stay here with him while your husband talks to our social worker outside and straightens all this out?”

“Well, I don’t want him speaking for me and my son.”

It was clear by the wavering of her voice, that this was a tough spot for the mom to be in. Robby could sympathize but what he couldn’t sympathize with was starting a miniature war zone in one of his rooms.

“Well, it is either you or him. Your son is not leaving, but you can be escorted out and even arrested if you refuse to cooperate. Nobody wants that. So you tell us. What do you want to do?”

Robby knew the answer before she replied. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this mother didn’t fiercely love her son. Whatever situation the husband did to get them in this position was unfortunate, but the only option they had now was to press forward.

“I’m staying with my son.”

“Ok, great. You do that. Are we all on the same page here?”

The last question he sent out was rhetorical. A feeler to see if anyone else was confused about what was about to happen and if further clarification was needed. God, Robby sincerely hoped it’d all been made crystal clear what the only two real options were; the only choice being to cooperate.

“You okay?”

Robby could see Langdon was shaken up. It could be a lot dealing with a combative patient - harder when it was a parent just trying to make the right choices for their child. You were always the best at coming in and soothing cases like this one. Somehow able to give relief and comfort while giving the most gut-wrenching news of a parent's life while calmly explaining the next steps. You were able to keep people from feeling lost in the bad news and prepare them for the onslaught of change.

Robby waited until Langdon confirmed he and Dr. King were good before he walked out of the room. Regarding parents with kids, Robby almost forgot Teresa asked to speak with him about David.

Central 12 was just a few steps away from Langdon’s patient. It was close to being comfortable but too close to give Robby time to think. He felt out of his element here because he was running out of options. He wanted to help Teresa, because, while she did this to help her son, she knowingly put her own life at risk to get him the help he needed.

But isn’t that what parents did?

At times, they blindly waded into the fire if it meant that their child would be safe.

All Robby could do was watch and listen while he told her about how he left. While he followed up her questions with his own and did his best to try and ward off the sick feeling burying itself inside his gut.

“Do you think David would hurt anyone?”

Even allowing the question to come out of his mouth made a rush of nausea swell back behind his tongue. He didn’t want to ask it. Nobody wants to ask any parent if they think their child - a fucking child - could be capable of harming another human being.

Robby carried his thoughts on the reasons why young men are more prone to violence these days. With idiotic podcast hosts spewing their hatred for women who were goal-oriented and not focused on babying them like their mothers. Boys who were told to bottle up their emotions: “Don’t share your feelings. Don’t get caught crying,” unless you want to be told that you were weak. There was so much bullshit in the world for kids to have to contend with these days that Robby didn’t find it surprising a lot of them were overloaded - overwhelmed by a constant flurry from the world to be someone different than who they are.

Robby had plenty of talks with Jake about these things. He found it easy to lean into him with the both of them connecting during shared trips and quiet nights at the house. Robby made sure his stepson knew that Robby would always be a safe place for him to land. When the world got too crazy and if he couldn’t tell his mom Janey, Robby would be there.

Because that’s what parents do - willingly walk through fire if it meant their kid would be okay.

“The nasal swab came back negative for COVID, RSV, and Flu - which is a good thing.”

“Then what’s wrong? What about her eyes?”

The her in question was a three-year-old named Jasmine who was vocally letting you both know that she was not in a good mood, which was very fair. Nobody liked being sick. The only issue with her actively voicing her bad mood was that any high octave screams were soon followed up by a violent cough.

The moment you stepped inside the room you’d been worried about RSV, especially because of her age. Lungs sounded clear with slight wheezing indicated in the upper left lobe. Thankfully, all major possible viruses came back negative. The unfortunate thing was that this specific viral infection just meant mom was going to have to ride it out.

“It’s still a viral infection. The conjunctivitis, since it started coming from both eyes this morning, it’s from the infection and sinus blockage. The whites of her eyes aren’t red in any way. The best thing to do is apply a compress every few hours on the eyes to help with drainage, saline drops, or spray on the nose to help clear up the congestion and suction as often as you can. Over-the-counter cough medicine is fine unless you need a prescription?”

“No, no, it’s okay. We have some at home. So, she’s okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine. I just recommend having her sleep elevated to help with drainage and if you have a humidifier, use it. Follow up with her pediatrician in two to three days or come back to the ER if any new or persistent symptoms occur.”

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

“You’re so welcome. Make sure to wait for a nurse before leaving. I hope you feel better, Jasmine.”

You gave them both a wave before exiting out of the quiet of the room and back into the noise. The nurse assigned to the room came over and held out a tablet and pen for you to take. Quickly, you scribbled a signature down, because doctors were notoriously known for sketchy penmanship, and began to walk towards a nursing station.

Technically, you did have a second option you could take before throwing yourself into the next patient room. Dr. Mohan asked to speak with you. She didn’t necessarily give a time or a preference. It was more focused on secrecy, which you found a little odd. This was Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center - it was a rare thing to have a private conversation here. You were curious to find out what it was Mohan wanted, a bigger part of you wasn’t ready for the headache of Robby undoubtedly finding out later. The worst option: is if you were the one who had to tell him to be the advocate for his resident.

The scent of his cologne still held tight to the fabric of your scrubs. Slowly, it was beginning to fade but if you leaned in close enough to your right shoulder you could almost get a hint of -

“Dr. Fullerton.”

You were a millisecond away from calling out, “I wasn’t doing anything!”. Was it too early in the shift to consider a name change?

Glancing over your shoulder, you find Gloria making her way towards you. Each step in your direction sent your fight or flight raging back into gear because fuck no. Between Gloria and Robby, the two of them were about to have you so damn stressed out there was a high chance for premature balding to occur.

“Oh no. I’ve had enough surprises from you today.”

“I just wanted to have a chat - “

“And definitely enough of those,” you shot back.

You weren’t exactly sure why you kept moving. If previous experiences told you anything, it was that she would follow you until you stopped on your own or she got you into a corner. At least stopping to face her was a choice compared to being cornered with no way out.

Resigning to your fate, you took in a big meditative breath through your nose and turned around.

“What can I help you with, Gloria?”

Your voice was so monotone you sounded like a robot.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to stop running and actually talk to me like an adult.”

“I’m sorry, Gloria. You brought me down here to assist in decreasing triage wait times and that is what I am doing. Stopping to have a chat with you will reflect poorly on my scores.”

“Cute,” She bit back. The smile on her face was too harsh to be genuine. “Well, it’s funny you mention scores. I’ve been keeping an eye on the numbers and the system is showing barely any signs of process or improvement. Can you explain why that is?”

The simplest answer you could’ve given her came with one name, one word, and one human being. Robby. Robby was your fucking problem; the bane of your existence.

Gloria shoved you down here not knowing all the variables that could hinder productivity. There were moments of clarity where your brilliance shined through and in a matter of seconds it evaporated again. Realistically, it was your fault. Your inability to control your stupid fucking emotions - you didn’t need to react every time you saw him.

How could you not react when Robby did exactly the same?

You weren’t stupid. You’d spent years, months, days, and hours with him. Every minute is accounted for in conversations and touch. It wasn’t insanity (although the jury was still out on that one) that made you believe - to fucking notice - Robby was affected too.

But no way in hell were you divulging any of your innermost thought demons to Gloria.

“Look around, Gloria,” you said, arms opening up to motion around the Central rooms. “There are no beds available. You ask for solid care, for good patient satisfaction scores and that requires multiple factors. To be a good doctor you have to listen to the patient's chief complaint that they’ve been waiting almost eight hours to tell you.”

“I am well aware of the current wait times in triage, Dr. Fullerton.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. Problem solved then because once we assess them and decide they need monitoring and tests to ascertain the issue, it’s only another three to six-hour wait. Maybe longer if it’s life-threatening. Not to mention if any trauma patients come rolling through the red zone adding another twenty-five to fifty minutes on their time.”

“I don’t see what any of this has to do with not having any beds. Not every situation in triage necessarily requires a bed to be seen.”

“Gloria, your precious Press Ganey scores are going to stay low if a patient doesn’t get back to a room. You can make beds available by sending people upstairs or how about removing the deceased guy in nineteen who’s been posted here since before I arrived?”

“Robby is in charge of contacting the coroner's office about picking up the deceased.”

“And yet, the body is still here,” you pondered. “I know Robby, Gloria. He wouldn’t knowingly leave someone’s loved one here if it didn’t mean the coroner is backed up, which means our morgue must house him until then. And why are you complaining to me like I'm attending here? Robby is the attending - “

“I’m well aware of that - “

“You keep saying you’re well aware, Gloria but the fact is it feels like you’re not. It’s easy to come down here making demands but the reality is without the proper staffing and moving boarders out of the emergency department to free up space the numbers will never fucking change. Sending one doctor down here isn’t going to change shit.”

“Are you just about done, Dr. Fullerton?” She did a dramatic pause to allow you time to cut in. “The board and its administration are well aware of the pressures that staff face down here in the emergency department - that all hospitals are currently facing shortages. The fact of the matter is studies show close to seventy-five percent of ER visits are non-life threatening, which means more than half of those patients could be fairly seen in triage without needing a room.”

You could feel your mouth opening; primed for a response that Gloria was not going to let you detonate. Her hand waved to warn you not to cut her off.

“I don't want to hear any more about boarding or staffing. I want to see the results, Dr. Fullerton. It’s already bad enough that there are rats inside.”

“To be fair, they piggybacked on an unconscious unhoused man, so,” you shrugged. If looks could kill, you’d have dropped dead right then and there. “Not helpful?”

“No. Not helpful,” she confirmed. “I do, however, have a proposition for you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The earlier annoyance at seeing Gloria twice in less than two hours of your shift changed course. Dread ice cold and paralyzing coiled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t like where this was going.

“Is there a pass option?”

“This is an offer from myself and the administration. So, no, there isn’t a ‘pass option.’ How would you like to be considered for an attending position?”

“No.”

The word barreled out of you without thinking. You didn’t need to think about this proposition Gloria, the administration, or whoever was trying to dangle in front of you. It was any doctor's dream to become an attending at a facility - it made you the doctor.

You didn’t want it like this.

“You didn’t even hear the terms.”

“I don’t need to hear them to know that you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“Robby is failing to meet standards -“

“Robby is a fucking good physician.” You fumed. “He’s one of the best physicians in trauma medicine you have here outside of Abbot.”

“No one is disputing that, Dr. Fullerton. The board is open to having you both down here during the morning shift, maybe even making a swing shift for you to help between shifts.”

You raked your hands over your face scrubbing hard to try and cut off a mirthless laugh that came out in patches between your fingers.

“No - you want me to be a Judas. It’ll be a swing shift until you can get whatever data you need to confirm whatever fucked up plan you’re making.”

“Dr. Fullerton -“

“No!” You didn’t mean to shout the word at her. Or maybe you had. Whatever it was, it surprised you both. You should be quieter - don’t draw attention but your heart was thrashing wildly. Your hand swiped through the air to cut her off before she could attempt to continue. You didn’t want to fucking hear it. “Robby is a damn fine physician and to try and - I don’t fucking know, get rid of him because he doesn’t kiss the boards or your ass is fucking stupid. I don’t know half of what Robby or Abbot knows. I’m not them and it would be beyond idiotic to lose him.”

“Your opinion will be taken into consideration and I’ll dismiss your…outburst, for now, because of the current situation. But make no mistake, Dr. Fullerton this will move forward with, or without, you.”

You wondered if any natural disasters were named Gloria. It seemed possible since she came and created an instant upheaval of your day, completely devastating it in a matter of minutes and once she was done simply went about her day like nothing happened.

She left you to deal with the aftermath. The rushing thoughts with a million questions - thousands of things you should’ve said to defend Robby. There were dozens of ways you could prove her wrong about him - that he fucking cared about his patients and was such a damn good doctor, phenomenal at times, that to equate all that he was and all that he did down to a simple metric of numbers was fucking ridiculous.

All the sound in the room began to drown out around you. Somewhere in the background of the hum you heard a shout for help. It could be Code Blue. It could be anything. You tried to get your body to react, but the hurricane of anxiety was sweeping in fast and you were running out of air.

You needed to sit. You had to act normal because the last thing you needed was Princess or Dana or fucking anybody else coming over to speak with you. Your hands used the counter like a rope to pull you along to the nearest computer. You quickly sat down and swiped your credentials to enter the computer, quickly clicking on anything just to appear busy.

“How are you holding up today?”

The last person you expected to see at that very moment was Heather Collins. What did you expect? This was an emergency room and doctors worked inside of it. She offered up a close-lipped smile that matched the kindness in her eyes. She was genuinely wanting to know how you were doing and for the first time, you hated the question because you couldn’t answer it.

Not truthfully, anyway. Who was ever truthful in answering that specific question?

So, you painted on a grin that more than likely resembled a grimace and prayed you didn’t look as tired as you felt.

“It’s been…an adjustment.”

“What’s taking adjusting?”

Good god, this man was fucking everywhere.

Robby came into view as he moved across the station to get to the opposite computer. The question was thrown out carelessly; he didn’t expect a response. He was pulling out his glasses and sliding them over his nose, his full focus on the screen. Test results thankfully took priority over your response.

You were quickly forgotten by Collin’s who walked over to where Robby read the test results. She waited until he removed his glasses and stood to his full height.

“Please don’t tell me you are going to intubate that poor old man?”

“It’s what the family wants.”

“So what? They want to torture him?”

“I explained all that.”

It was painfully obvious this was a case you knew nothing about. By the sound of it, you were willing to bet five dollars that it was one of the elderly patients from a home who came in a little after 7:30 that morning. It meant it wasn’t your case. You didn’t need to know the information and you could continue counting down backward from ten while you reminded yourself that no, you weren’t Judas and -

“Dr. Fullerton, if a family came in -“

Fucking hell, you needed to stop zoning out. You brought your attention back to the two of them, wondering what you missed.

“You don’t need to ask her,” Robby interjected.

Collins continued like he’d never spoken.

“And they had durable power over an elderly family member who had a pre-existing DNR. His family wants to intubate. It’s not what he wants. Whose choice do you honor?”

“What are you doing?”

A singular brow of hers arched in defiance.

“Asking for a second opinion.”

“I didn’t ask for one.”

They continued to bicker about the decision Robby made to not fight for a dying man’s wishes. You would’ve told Collins to let it go because once Robby’s mind was made up, it was like talking to a wall. Maybe she already knew that.

God, what fucking twilight zone episode were you stuck in? You actively wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Your eyes darted to the time on the bottom of the screen and you had to fight to keep your forehead from landing with a thud on the keyboard. It was only 9 o’clock. There were ten more hours of this day and you needed it to be over.

Robby released a sigh that reflected how exhausted you felt. It wasn’t a physical exhaustion but one of the soul; a weariness that vines grew thorns and were beginning to tear you slowly open. You could feel your legs wanting to shift out of the chair and go to him. The urge was so strong your hands scrunched into fists to keep from moving - to quell the urge because he wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t his.

“Shit.”

“What?”

Robby’s best magic trick? Deflecting. Whenever he wanted the current conversation to end, and didn't like where it was heading, he diverted it completely into something else. Anything else that kept him from having to continue down a conversation he wanted no part of. You knew that trick all too well.

“I got to go tell those parents their 18-year-old son is brain-dead.”

“You want me to go with you?”

It should’ve been you offering to go with him. A comfort to the harbinger of bad news because it was never easy to give it. Never easy to stand in the storm of grief and simply be a bystander while their world ends in a matter of words.

What did it matter who went with him? Who offered? At the end of the day, a family was forever going to be encapsulated by a loss too many people unfortunately knew.

Vaguely, you caught the end of their argument. Robby wanted to perform an apnea test and a cerebral perfusion study. Dr. Collins didn’t agree. It offered the family false hope but Robby was right - maybe it did offer a false sense of hope, but with each test completed and results read off it was a graceful way to ease a family into acceptance. It gave them the time to process and grieve and come to the very heavy realization their son wouldn’t be going home with them.

“They need time to process before they can accept what’s happening.”

“You ever consider taking that advice? Physician, heal thyself.”

Dear floor, please fucking open up wide so you can just swan dive right on in. Thanks a bunch.

Heather knew. She fucking knew about the wall of grief - of acceptance - Robby himself was unable to accept. The King of dishing out advice left and right but unyielding in taking it. Suddenly, all the cool reserve of not caring about them dating evaporated in a crushing wave of heartbreak you shouldn’t have felt in the first place.

Did he tell her about you? Did he share with her about…about what happened? Was he able to open up to her in ways he stopped doing with you? Their relationship was gone, but the respect and care were still there.

The irritation came off him in waves. You should’ve told her Robby’s least favorite thing is being told to take his own advice. Or to heal for that matter. Oh, and to also maybe seek therapy. All three of those would turn his mood sour and aggravate him to peak levels at hyper speed.

He shoved his hands down into his hoodie. His head swiveling between Collins and probably anywhere else in the ED.

“Don’t you have patients?”

There it was. The dismissal. The, in not so many words, “I’m done talking to you about this and everything else,” so he could make a quick exit. The magician's last trick before his temper was lost.

Don’t look up. Do not look up. Don’t fucking do it.

You didn’t need to look up. There wasn’t any reason to do so. You weren’t on their radar the last half of their conversation. You were just a bystander to a miniature car crash. The issue with crashes? Everyone who drove by couldn’t stop themselves from looking.

The itch between your shoulder blades was your first warning sign. The weight of his gaze was bearing down on you. You didn’t have to react to it but it was a reflex to look up for him. To search for him in every crowded room and find yourself wishing he was there when he wasn’t.

Your eyes found he was still looking at you. An in-house debate flashed across his features. If it was whether or not to come to you, you hope he chose not to. You just need a few moments of space. It was too much. You’d run from him and now he was just here all the time and -

“Why are you looking at puppies? You getting a dog?”

“What?”

For the first time since you’d opened the computer, you realized whoever was on it last left it open to an ad for a puppy.

“Oh, no. This wasn’t me. Hey, earlier did someone shout a Code Blue?”

You could also perform your own magical change of subjects. Robby took a moment to answer before giving a curt nod.

“Whittaker’s patient that’d been placed in the hall. If you heard it, why didn’t you go assist? All hands on deck for a code, you know that.”

God, was he chastising you right now? A flood of irritation rippled over your skin. You wanted to snap at him. You weren’t a med student. But he was frustratingly right - you’d heard it and instead of running you’d kept yourself here.

And Whitaker. It was his first patient of the day. He’d been so excited that he’d done good. He’d gotten praise from Dr. Robby about his work up and Whitaker wouldn’t shut up about it. It meant something to him.

“I’ll go see if they need someone to switch.”

You went to get up but Robby was too close. If you got up from the chair you would bump straight into his chest.

“You okay?”

The sudden care behind the question jarred you. How did he expect you to answer? There was no way you could be honest with him - not at that second. He was supposed to go break the worst news a parent could ever receive and he was worried about you. He should be worried for himself. You could warn him about Gloria but what good would it do if he thought you might possibly be in on it with her? Your sudden reappearance, while inconvenient, hadn’t raised suspicion like an ulterior motive waited in the wings just yet.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Never better.”

His smile held every worn line of fatigue that signaled his lack of sleep. His attempt at strength in a moment he refused to seek outside help. You found the same words Dr. Collins asked moments before crawling their way up your throat before you swallowed them back down. He wouldn’t change his mind and agree just because it was you.

You wanted to be there because whether he voiced it or not, this kid whose family was seconds away from being told was gone wasn’t that much older than Jake. A single accident of taking non-prescribed Xanax ended his life. Jake was a good kid. You wanted to reach out and take his hand and tell him Jake would never - Jake was different.

Jake was still a kid.

Robby didn’t wait for you to reply before he headed towards the room. You kept telling yourself to get up and move. Go find Whitaker and the team performing cpr on his patient and do your part. Between everything that’s happened this morning: being forced down with Robby, seeing Robby, Dr. Mohan requesting to speak with you, Gloria’s ultimatum and now the news this young kid didn’t make it you were officially mentally exhausted.

You needed to move but by the time your legs finally lifted out of the seat, Robby told them. The mother’s wail of agony resounded through the room and rose in octaves. The soul-wrenching loss of her child, her baby, turned the Pitt into a mausoleum of mourning. Her cries followed you down the hallway until you reached the curtain where Whitaker and others were on their third round of Epi, and you could see the continued despair evident in the room.

It was barely 9 AM and you already wanted to fucking go home.

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @travelingmypassion @jupiter-sky @catsgoogander @rosiepoise88 @It-jakeseresin @blackpopcorn @celmentine111002 @dcgoddess

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firewasabeast · 1 day ago

Text

Summary: Tommy has to go before a disciplinary board for stealing a helicopter. The 118 shows up to have his back.

“Firefighter Pilot Thomas Kinard, are you aware as to why you are here today?”

Tommy cleared his throat, leaning in closer to the mic. “I was told it was to discuss potential disciplinary action for alleged recent behavior.”

A panel of five men and women were seated in front of him, all there to decide his fate. He settled into his seat as they introduced themselves one by one for the record.

“Aiden Gioseffi, Fire Equipment Dealer.”

“Martin Kaden, State Fire Marshall Appointed Designee.”

“Carol Haney, Administrative Officer for Los Angeles County Fire Department.”

“Roy Simpson, Los Angeles Fire Department Chief.”

“Tina Eason, Administrative Officer from a Building Department Representing Los Angeles County.”

“What was that last one again?” Tommy asked, head tilted.

“Administrative Officer from a Building Department Representing Los Angeles County.”

Tommy shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I’d hate to have to keep repeating that title,” he mumbled. “Maybe ask them to shorten it to AOBDRLAC. Or-”

“Let the records show Mr. Kaden will be leading this meeting today,” Simpson interrupted, giving Tommy a glare. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Ready as ever, Sir.”

“I’m going to begin by stating what we’ve been told,” Kaden informed Tommy. “Then you will have a chance to confirm or deny the allegations one by one. Understand?”

Tommy nodded. “Loud and clear, Sir.”

“Okay, two months ago, on April 17, 2025, you overheard on the radio about a situation happening with your old station, the 118, at SoCal Tech BioMed. You decided of your own free will and volition to contact a member of the 118, along with a police sergeant, and take a helicopter to then use as a distraction against the army and the FBI. When you were ordered by the army to stand down, you proceeded to lie and tell them you had orders of your own, which you did not, and started a helicopter chase through Los Angeles. You ended up landing inside the Los Angeles Coliseum, with another firefighter and a prisoner in tow. Afterward, you were escorted back to the bio lab, where you barely managed to escape federal charged of domestic terrorism and treason.”

When Kaden had finished, the other members of the board appeared speechless. Tommy’s eyes wandered to each of them as he waited to be allowed to speak.

“Is there anything I have said that you would like to deny or challenge, Mr. Kinard?”

“You can just call me Tommy,” he replied, folding his hands and resting them on the table in front of him. “And I’d like to challenge the treason charge. I wouldn’t consider it that. If anything, maybe light treason.”

Eason pulled her mic closer. “Light treason isn’t a real thing, Mr. Kinard, and it’s not the main reason you’re here. You’e already been cleared of those charges.”

“Again, Tommy is fine,” he corrected. “But, um, no I think the rest is all fine and good.”

“I don’t think I’d call it ‘fine and good,’” Haney muttered.

“So, you’re not going to try and challenge anything that was mentioned?” Gioseffi asked. “These are serious allegations, Tommy.”

“I’m aware of that, Sir, but I don’t see a reason to try and lie. What you’re saying happened is what happened. Do whatever you think is necessary, I won’t fight it.”

“But we will!” A voice boomed from the back of the room. Everyone looked up at once, and Tommy turned to see Howie, Buck, Hen, and Ravi all bursting through the double doors.

Tommy’s eyes widened, “Guys, I don’t-”

“What you’re doing here is a travesty of justice!” Chimney exclaimed. The entire group walked up until they were standing directly behind Tommy. “And we won’t sit by and watch it happen!”

Hen leaned down closer to Tommy. “The grand entrance was Chim’s idea,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t let us come in until the perfect time.”

Chief Simpson sighed, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his temple. “What’s happening here?”

“Nothing,” Tommy answered quickly, shooting a glare over to Buck. “They’re confused. It’s been a rough couple of months and-”

“No one’s confused,” Buck interrupted.

“Evan.”

“No, Tommy. First of all,” he held up a finger, other hand on his hip as he turned to Tommy, “you told me you were working overtime today. You lied. We’re talking about this when we get home. Second, I know you’re not telling the whole truth here because you don’t want me to get into trouble, and I’m not going to let that happen. Third-”

“Okay, can everyone just hold on a second!” Kaden interrupted. “Who are you people and why are you here?”

“Sir, my name is Howard Han, better known as Chimney.” He placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m here to defend my good friend Tommy Kinard today, along with my colleagues, Henrietta Wilson-”

“Hen,” she interjected.

“Evan Buckley-”

“Buck.”

“And Ravi Panikkar.”

Ravi nodded. “Ravi’s good.”

“And I’d like to add,” Buck continued, “that I’m also his boyfriend, and we’ve recently moved in together. I’d agree that starting a new chapter of our relationship by lying to your partner about where you are and why you’re there is not great.”

“No one said that,” Haney replied. “And Mr. Kinard-”

“Tommy.”

“-doesn’t need to have people here defending him. This is a very simple meeting to discuss what disciplinary actions should be taken for stealing a LAFD helicopter for personal use.”

Tommy sighed. “I’d just like to say, I did not ask them to come.”

“That’s clear, Kinard,” Simpson answered.

Hen stepped forward. “We’re here to make sure Tommy gets fair treatment. He may have broken a couple of rules, but he did it with good intention and, in the end, he helped save the United States, and possibly the world, from a killer virus far more dangerous than Covid.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad. And it seemed to grab the attention of some of the board members. “Thanks, Hen,” Tommy said, giving her a nod when she turned back to him.

Then Ravi stepped up. “Plus he’s not the only one who committed crimes.”

Tommy groaned, head falling to his hands. “Please, stop.”

“I did things the army specifically told me not to do. Now, usually, I wouldn’t be admitting that here in front of you all. But recent events and, I believe, longterm exposure to this team, has made me more likely to speak out.”

“And it’s not even the first time he’s done it!” Chimney exclaimed.

“Dude!” Tommy screeched.

“Last year, took a helicopter straight through a hurricane to rescue our captain and his wife from a capsized cruise ship.”

“That was never brought to our attention,” Eason said.

“And it’s not the issue now,” Simpson clarified.

Buck nodded. “Yeah, he got a medal for that. We all did! And I’m sure he didn’t tell you-”

“Evan, no-”

“-that I was the one who asked him to steal the helicopter. I- I knew we’d never get Chimney the cure if we didn’t distract the FBI and the army. It was our only shot at saving him. So I called up Tommy, knowing good and well that, even though we weren’t together at the time, he’d do it for me. He’d do it for any of us. Th- That’s the kind of guy he is. Any one of us could call him right now for help and he’d be figuring a way out of this meeting, straight into a chopper!”

Tommy reached out and took Buck’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Babe, I love you, but you’ve gotta stop talking.”

“You know what?” Kaden said, looking like he was seconds away from pulling every remaining hair out of his head. “I think we’ve heard enough. I’m going to suggest a one month suspension at half-pay. Anyone object?”

Tommy squeezed Buck’s hand tighter when he went to open his mouth.

“Great, no objections. You, uh, the- the boyfriend?”

“Evan Buckley, Sir.”

“Yeah, you were the one who called Mr. Kinard and asked him for the helicopter?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Two weeks paid suspension and you won’t have to come sit in front of the board yourself. How’s that sound?”

Before Buck could answer, Chief Simpson spoke. “Sounds fair to me! We’re done here, yes?”

“We’re done,” Kaden confirmed as the board members began to stand. “Have a… a day, I guess. I don’t know anymore.”

*****

The walk out to the parking lot was a quiet one.

“Hen drove me,” Buck said, clearly still annoyed that Tommy had lied to him, “so we’ll be heading home together.” He kept walking to the truck, even as the rest of the group stopped.

Tommy grabbed his wallet from his pocket, pulling out a card and handing it to Hen.

“What’s this?” Hen asked.

“That’s the number for Chris Oletto. He’s a pilot I trained, works at Harbor. A loose cannon and annoying as all hell.”

“Why are you giving Hen his number?” Chimney questioned.

“Because I want you to post it up on a cork board somewhere,” Tommy replied, “and the next time you guys need someone to steal a helicopter, call him!”

“Tommy, let’s go!” Buck yelled, pulling on the handle of Tommy’s locked truck.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, shooting Buck a fake smile and a wave, “I’ve gotta spend an hour in traffic getting yelled at by my boyfriend.” He gave Chimney a pat on the arm, nodding to Ravi and Hen. “Thanks for coming, guys, really. It means a lot.”

The three watched as Tommy walked off, then Chimney plucked the card from Hen’s hand. “We’re not really gonna call this guy the next time we need a helicopter, are we?”

“Nah,” Hen scoffed. “Tommy’s our guy.”

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #118 firefam #911

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mayakern · 5 months ago

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I honestly don’t know how to write this; I have spent all week attempting to figure out what to say.

Last Monday I was informed by our factory that our merchandiser and direct point of contact with the factory passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. She was someone who I have spent a great deal of time speaking to ever since we switched factories two years ago. She helped us realize designs for new products, sent us samples of garments extremely quickly and kept track of all our orders. She went to bat for us if something went wrong with our print shop or if I was unhappy with how a garment pattern was interpreted by their team. As their first American client and a brand that focuses on size inclusion, something that is not typical of their other clients, she handled a lot of crazy requests from us without blinking and she was dedicated to ensuring that both us and our customers were happy. We talked nearly every day, and though it was work related she was one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure interacting with daily.

She was beyond dedicated to her work and to working with us. Turkey has an 11-hour time difference from me in California, which means when she was emailing me at 2pm in the afternoon it was 1am there. You can sure bet that I extended her the same courtesy and tried my best to answer her emails at night too, even when I would rather just be sleeping.

It was also clear just how much she loved her job, and now much she loved you guys. She had been silently watching our social media since we first started working with them. She got just as excited as we did on launch days and would often email me unprompted about how she was glad people were leaving such positive comments and reviews. She read your feedback when no one ever asked her to do that or even expected it of her. She did it because she really, really cared.

Even though she was miles away and we never met in person, she was like a coworker to me and the loss of her is like losing someone on our team.

The Maya Kern team, as a whole, has been dealing with a lot lately. I personally just moved (which took far longer than we expected) and Maya and Devin are gearing up to move back to Minneapolis pretty soon. With the loss of our merchandizer, it has taken the wind out of my sails a little bit. I was trying to push through, even though I am exhausted, and carry out the photo shoot for our new products this weekend, but it has become clear that my body just can’t handle it. My arthritis has finally told me to stop moving, so unfortunately, we are going to have to reschedule the shoot for later on.

We are doing everything we can to make sure our next product drop on the 21st still happens. But as of right now, due to this sudden loss, the garments haven’t even shipped from the factory yet and I am not optimistic that they will clear customs and get checked into the fulfillment center in time for the launch. This means the drop is likely going to be pushed back to December 5th and instead of a full photo shoot, we will probably have to settle for taking quick photos of everyone at home, and likely with our phones.

We work really hard to deliver not just garments we believe in, but also pictures of said garments on bodies that our customers can relate to, and unfortunately I just do not think that is possible this time. As always, we really appreciate your patience and understanding during what has been a very difficult time for us.

Ash

Chief Operations Officer

#store #ash used substitute

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olderwomenenthusiast · 3 months ago

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drinks, kisses & the morning after (emily prentiss)

PAIRING: emily prentis & fem reader DESCRIPTION: the tension between emily and you finally snaps CAUTION: alcohol use, fingering, oral, swearing WORD COUNT: 2.5K

The case had been a brutal one, days of chasing a killer through dead ends and red herrings, long hours of tension thick enough to suffocate, and crime scenes that left an ache in your chest that wouldn’t fade, no matter how many times you told yourself you’d done your best.

But it was over now.

The unsub was in custody, the families had their answers and the team was finally allowed to breathe again.

So when Morgan threw an arm around your shoulder and declared, "We’re drinking tonight, no excuses," no one argued. Why would we, it'd be foolish.

The bar was a dimly lit place, a little rough around the edges but comfortable, familiar; somewhere you and the team had found yourselves more times than you could count after cases like these. A place to shake off the ghosts, even if just for a little while.

Garcia had claimed the largest booth, already waving over the bartender as you all slid in. "Drinks are on me tonight, my beautiful crime-fighting warriors," she announced, her red lips curving into a grin.

"You mean drinks are on the FBI’s budget," Rossi teased, settling in beside her with an amused smirk.

"Tomato, to-mah-to," Garcia said, waving a dismissive hand.

Hotch, who had originally looked as though he might slip away and retreat to his hotel room, surprised everyone by staying. He nursed a bourbon, sitting back in his seat with the faintest ghost of a smile as he listened to the team banter. The case had drained him too, you could see it in the set of his shoulders, the weight he carried that no amount of whiskey could shake.

Morgan ordered a round of shots, setting one in front of each of you with a challenging look.

"Come on, no backing out now," he said, nudging Prentiss with his elbow. "Even you, Hotch."

The unit chief gave him a dry look, but to everyone’s surprise, he downed the shot in one smooth motion, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet thunk.

Garcia gasped dramatically. "Who are you, and what have you done with Aaron Hotchner?"

That earned a chuckle from Rossi, who clinked his glass against Hotch’s.

The conversation drifted from the case to lighter topics: Rossi sharing a ridiculous story from one of his early years at the Bureau, Garcia recounting a disastrous first date with a man who thought quoting The Godfather in a bad Italian accent was peak romance.

You laughed, the tension in your chest finally starting to loosen.

And then there was Emily.

She had been sitting beside you, her thigh pressing against yours, her presence a force even in a room full of people. The bar’s warm lighting cast a golden hue across her skin, making the sharp angles of her face softer. But her eyes, dark and smoldering beneath the sweep of her lashes, were anything but soft.

There was something in the way she looked at you tonight. Something that had nothing to do with the case, nothing to do with the whiskey. Something that sent heat curling in your stomach.

"Another round?" she asked, her voice low, teasing.

"Trying to get me drunk, Prentiss?" you shot back, raising a brow.

Her lips quirked into a smirk. "Do I need to?"

Your breath caught.

Morgan, oblivious - or maybe just enjoying the show - grinned and clapped you both on the back. "Oh, it is definitely happening tonight."

"Shut up, Derek," you muttered, feeling the warmth creep up your neck.

Emily just laughed, the sound smooth and rich like the whiskey burning its way through your veins.

The drinks kept coming, the conversation blurring into a haze of warmth, laughter, and the constant awareness of Emily beside you. The way her fingers brushed against your thigh, the way she leaned in just a little too close when she spoke, the way her lips lingered on the rim of her glass before curling into something wicked.

God, she was going to be your undoing.

By the time the team started to dispers, Hotch calling it a night, Rossi tipping his glass in farewell; you and Emily were locked in a stare that neither of you seemed willing to break.

Garcia sighed dramatically as she stood. "Well, my loves, it has been a pleasure, but some of us have cats waiting at home."

Morgan stretched, his grin knowing. "Yeah, and some of us don’t need to stick around for whatever this" he gestured between you and Emily, "is about to turn into."

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t look away from her. You couldn't bring yoursel to.

The team left. The bar quieted. And still, neither of you moved.

Until Emily leaned in, her lips a whisper against your ear.

"You keep looking at me like that," she murmured, "and I’m going to have to do something about it."

This time, you didn’t stop her.

Her sharp inhale was all the encouragement you needed before her mouth crashed against yours, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against her. The music, the bar, all faded into the background. There was only the heat of her body, the press of her lips, the way she tasted like whiskey and something distinctlyEmily.

By the time you stumbled through the hotel door, both of you were breathless, your hands frantic, greedy.

Emily pushed you up against the wall, her lips trailing down your jaw, her teeth scraping along your neck. You gasped as she bit down, hard enough to make you arch against her.

"Mine," she murmured against your throat, her voice rough with possession.

The word sent a shudder through you, a deep pulse of want settling between your legs. God, you needed her. Needed her to claim you, to leave her mark, to remind you who you belonged to tonight. And maybe more than just tonight.

Emily's hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding beneath the hem of your dress, fingers trailing over your thighs. She pressed her knee between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper. Your mind was spinning, anticipation tightening every nerve in your body.

"You sound so pretty when you do that," Emily purred, dragging her tongue along the shell of your ear causing you to shiver under her touch.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, desperate to feel more of her, to strip away every item of clothing between you. She chuckled, a low, sinful sound, before reaching back and yanking the fabric over her head in one fluid motion. You bit your lip but before you could react, she was on you again, kissing you hard, pushing you toward the bed. You barely had time to catch your breath before you landed on your back, Emily following, straddling you, her thighs bracketing yours.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she slid down your body, hands dragging your dress up, exposing you to her gaze. Her fingers traced lazy circles along your inner thigh, teasing you, never quite touching where you needed her most. The teasing was maddening, your body aching for her touch, for relief.

"Emily," you gasped, squirming beneath her.

"Patience," she murmured, her voice like silk. "I want to take my time with you."

And then finally, her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, sliding through the wetness pooling between your thighs.

A sharp, loud cry escaped your lips as she circled your clit, slow and deliberate, drawing achingly patterns. Your hips bucked, desperate for more, but she only hummed in satisfaction, keeping the pace torturously slow. Every movement sent fire coursing through your veins, your thoughts dissolving into pure need.

"You're soaking for me," she murmured, voice thick with desire. "Look at you, falling apart already."

Emily's words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. You were burning - burning from the inside out, from the way her fingers worked you open, the way her breath ghosted over your skin. You felt like you were drowning in her, losing yourself to her completely.

She added more pressure, drawing tighter, faster circles, her other hand sliding up to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers. The combination sent you spiraling, your back arching, hands fisting into the sheets. Every touch was electric, your body strung tight like a bow, ready to snap.

"Emily, please," you gasped, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

She grinned against your skin. "That's my girl."

And then, with one final stroke, she pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you, filling you, sending pleasure crashing over you like tidal waves.

You shattered beneath her, a broken moan spilling from your lips as you came, your body trembling, your mind blank with bliss. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure consuming, leaving you breathless and utterly undone.

Emily didn’t stop, at least not right away. She worked you through it, her fingers slowing, her lips pressing reverent kisses against your skin. Only when the tremors subsided did she finally pull back, her dark eyes meeting yours, something softer hidden beneath the hunger.

But you weren't done. It was your turn.

Flipping Emily onto her back, you moved between her thighs, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, enjoying the way her muscles tensed beneath your tongue. You nipped at her hip bone, making her hiss, before finally dragging her panties down her legs and tossing them aside.

"Look at you," you murmured, spreading her open with your fingers, watching the way she glistened in the dim light. "So fucking gorgeous."

She let out a shuddering breath, her hands threading into your hair. "Don't tease. Please.."

You smirked, but you obeyed, dipping your head and licking a broad stripe up her slit, moaning at the taste of her. She was intoxicating, her arousal coating your tongue, making you desperate to pull every last sound from her lips. She sounded so beautiful, and you felt a sense of pride knowing you were the one causing her to make those sounds.

Emily's hips jerked, her fingers tightening in your hair, urging you closer, needing more. You gave her what she wanted. Of course you did.

You flicked your tongue against her clit before sucking it between your lips, reveling in the way she gasped, her thighs trembling on either side of your head. Your fingers dug into her hips, holding her still as you devoured her, your tongue circling, teasing, before plunging inside her, fucking her with slow, deliberate strokes.

Emily's moans grew desperate, her breathing became ragged, and her body writhed beneath you. The way she responded to you, the way she came undone, made you feel powerful, made you crave more.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" Her voice broke, her whole body tensing, her breath stuttering as she teetered on the edge.

You slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and that was all it took, Emily shattered beneath you, her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around your head as she came hard, her moans spilling into the air unrestrained.

You didn’t stop until she was trembling, until she was gasping for breath, her body utterly spent. Only then did you pull away, pressing one last lingering kiss against her inner thigh before crawling back up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, satisfied kiss.

She tasted like you, kind of like sin and satisfaction, and when she pulled back, her dark eyes were still heavy with hunger.

"You're insatiable," she murmured, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.

You grinned, rolling your hips against hers. "You love it."

Her hands slid up your back, nails dragging just enough to make you shiver. "Damn right, I do."

And then she was flipping you over again, pinning you beneath her, promising another long, breathless round.

The morning after, you woke in tangled sheets, Emily's body curled against yours. Her arm was draped over your waist, her steady breathing tickling your neck. You watched her for a moment, memorizing the way the soft morning light painted her skin, the way her dark lashes fluttered slightly as she began to wake. The night had been more than just desire, it had been something deeper, something unspoken. At least you hoped it was.

When she finally stirred, her dark eyes met yours, a small, sleepy smile playing on her lips. "Morning."

"Morning," you murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. "So... last night wasn’t just a mistake, right?"

You smirked, grateful you weren't the only one feeling this way. "I’d say calling it a mistake is the last thing on my mind."

Emily chuckled, her fingers tracing absent patterns on your skin. "Good. Because I’d like to see where this goes. If you do."

You reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together. "I do."

The moment felt intimate, safe - until the door suddenly burst open.

"Rise and shine, my lovely besties!" Garcia’s voice rang out, far too loud for this hour.

JJ was right behind her, but she stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening as she took in the unmistakable scene. "Oh my God."

You barely had time to scramble for the sheets, tugging them up to cover you and Emily as best as possible. Emily let out a low groan, burying her face in your shoulder. "Kill me now."

"Oh. My. God." Garcia clapped her hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" She spun on her heel, already reaching for her phone. "I have to tell the team! I called this! I called this weeks ago!"

"Penelope, if you send so much as one text, I swear..." Emily started, but the threat only made Garcia squeal in delight.

"Oh, Emily, Emily, Emily. You wound me. As if I would betray your trust like that," she said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. "But I will be telling them in person the second we leave this room."

JJ smirked, arms crossed. "So... breakfast? Or should we give you two a little more time to ‘talk’?"

Emily groaned again, pulling the sheets over both your heads. "Go away."

"Absolutely not," Garcia chirped. "We have so much to discuss! How did this happen? When did this happen? And most importantly, how scandalous was it? Give me details."

You peeked out from under the covers, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "Penelope, it’s too early for this."

"Is it? Or am I just the best friend you could ever ask for?" she countered, grinning. "Now, do you two need extra time, or should I expect you both fully dressed and glowing in twenty minutes?"

Emily sighed dramatically. "Fine. Give us twenty minutes."

Garcia’s face lit up. "Yes! Best morning ever. Don’t keep me waiting, lovebirds!"

With that, she dragged JJ out of the room, the latter still shaking her head in amusement. As the door clicked shut, you turned to Emily, laughter bubbling up between you.

"So, that happened," you said.

Emily groaned again, flopping back against the pillows. "I am never going to hear the end of this."

You grinned, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Maybe not. But at least we’re in this together."

She smiled against your mouth. "Yeah. We are."

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

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heyyyy how ruu

english is not my first language so i hope you can understand this u.u

this idea has been consuming my brain for days, sooo basically i was thinking about bau fem reader and reid doing undercover work (idk) and when they see the unsub, reader's first thought is to kiss reid so the unsub can't recognize them (and he wouldnt waste time in 2 ppl kissing???), then when reader sees the unsub going towards the exit even though she doesnt want to she breaks the kiss and everything is awkward but in a cute way??? yea idk if this makes sense feel free to change anything or to not do it at all :]

in plain sight | S.R.

your quick thinking (in an attempt to protect him) leads to a thankful spencer

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: reader is explicitly referred to as a woman. general cm violence. making out (for the plot). haphazardly proofread. word count: 1.19k a/n: no worries anon, i understood this perfectly! thank you so much for requesting!

Your firearm was digging into your hip as you leaned up against the wall of the bar. You were on high alert as you looked around the building, scanning the faces of people who walked by.

“L/N, Reid, anything?” Hotch called into the radios. The team was across the street in a surveillance van.

Quickly, your eyes met Spencer’s, “No sign of the suspect.” Silently, you hoped that Hotch would pull you from the bar and let you go back to the hotel for the night, but you knew that wasn’t the way your unit chief played the game.

You were more or less trapped inside a college bar, your shoes were sticking to the old wooden floor, and because you and Spencer were the youngest members of the team, you were voluntold to go undercover.

Reid had never looked more out of place, but he was twelve when he started college, so you supposed he had never really been in a dive bar like this one before. “Hey,” you said softly, “Are you alright?” You knew he had a thing about germs, and if you were bothered by the sticky floors, you couldn’t imagine how he was feeling.

“I’m sure this comes as a surprise, but this,” he gestured to the partying college kids around you, “isn’t really my scene.”

A small laugh bubbled up from your throat, “Oh, no. I never would’ve guessed,” you played along with his sarcasm. “I’m afraid my shoes are going to come off when I try to walk,” you admitted.

He smiled slightly, “I’m trying not to think about it.”

Tentatively, you moved a little closer to him so you wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “I thought the UnSub hunted around ten?” You questioned. All of the bodies were usually found at midnight with lividity just barely beginning to show, meaning the victims were picked at ten, killed by eleven, and found at midnight.

They were calling him the Countdown Killer because he kept on such a tight schedule. “He should be,” Spencer answered, glancing down at the watch on his wrist.

You looked around the bar, the both of you had your backs to a wall, so you weren’t exposed on that side.

“Remember, if you spot him, do not engage,” Hotch ordered through your radios. You and Reid were simply there to find him, the rest of the team would handle the chase. “He’s likely been watching the news, so he may recognize your faces – don’t let him.”

While you weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to hide your face from the suspect without seeming suspicious, you confirmed the plan with Hotch anyway.

A gleam of blonde caught your eye, narrowing your eyes, you focused on the figure. “Spencer,” you swatted at his hand, “two o’clock.”

Discreetly, Spencer’s gaze flickered over in the direction you had suggested. “Turn around,” Spencer said, “Don’t let him see your face.”

You turned around so that you were facing Spencer, looking away from the suspect. “What about your face?” You asked, surely the both of you staring at the brick wall would seem suspicious.

“He’s killing women. I don’t want him to notice you,” he responded, momentarily looking past you and at the suspect.

Surprised, you furrowed your brows at Reid’s statement, by having you face him, he was trying to protect you. You turned your face into your shoulder, “Suspect is in the bar,” you whispered into your mic.

There was recognition from the rest of the team before it went quiet again. “He’s approaching us,” Spencer said, faint alarm springing onto his features. He wasn’t talking into the radio; he was letting you know.

Spencer might’ve been outside of the victimology, but you couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him if the suspect recognized him.

Instinctively, you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. You were kissing Spencer.

At first, he was surprised, but his hands quickly found a home on your waist as he kissed you back. Your lips worked gently on his as he eased his mouth open, deepening the kiss. Abruptly, Spencer dragged you closer to him by the waist. The sudden movement caused your eyes to flutter open.

In your periphery, you could see the dangerous blonde walking away. He must’ve walked right past you, and Spencer had pulled you away from him. You let your eyes fall shut again.

You reached up to sling your arms over his shoulders as he experimentally slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your heart raced as you were fully making out with Spencer in the college bar.

Reluctantly, you separated yourself from Spencer, “Is he gone?” You whispered, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

Spencer nodded, swallowing thickly. His cheeks were tinted pink, and you were sure you were flushed as well.

You pressed your mic button, not taking your eyes off Spencer’s, “Suspect’s exiting out the rear door,” you notified the team. Suddenly, your job was done, and you became conscious of Spencer’s hands where they still remained on your waist.

Hotch asked you to report to the van, and you took Spencer’s hand and led him out of the bar. The cool night air calmed your rushing blood. “Thank you for that,” he said from behind you as you halted to look for passing cars.

You spun on your heel to look at him, “Did you just thank me for kissing you?”

“I thanked you for distracting the suspect, so he didn’t recognize me,” Spencer corrected, squeezing your hand.

Instinctively, you dropped his hand, “Right, me and my quick thinking.” There was not a single clear thought in your head. You started crossing the street as Spencer called your name, obviously confused.

You yanked your earbud out while the rest of the team was rambling on about the takedown over the comms. “What just happened?” Spencer asked.

“We made out in a bar, and you thanked me for it,” you answered stiffly, leaning your back against the white van. “So, you’re welcome,” you said. Really, you didn’t know what you wanted from him, and you knew that Reid’s experience with women was limited at best.

Surprisingly, Spencer rested a hand on either side of your head and leaned intoxicatingly close to you, “Did you want me to say something else to you?”

You looked up at him, you weren’t sure you had ever noticed the green flecks in his eyes, “I had a few ideas, yes.”

“Here was my other option,” he told you, dropping his head so that your lips met once again. You gasped into his mouth in surprise. Hesitantly, you placed one hand on the side of his neck and the other in his hair. He used both of his hands to cup your face, kissing you with less urgency than you had in the bar as if you had all of the time in the world.

The both of you jumped when the passenger side door to the van swung open and Emily poked her head out, “You know we can see you in the side mirrors, right?”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #margot's requests #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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heli-writes · 26 days ago

Text

A dragon's heart, part 17.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: explicit description of torture

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Please applause our first translator entering the scene! Can you guess who it is? Spoiler: It's not our favourite broccoli!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Alright, you boot-licking weak-ass excuse of a warrior, I ask you one more time: What orders were given to you by your king? Answer or your comrades will suffer even worse”

When the Todoroki soldier doesn't answer, Katsuki turns the knife that is already stuck in the man's leg. The man howls and fights against the restraints that bind him to the chair he's sitting on. When the pain ebbs away, the soldier spits blood at Katsuki's feet. He looks up at the chief with anger and determination behind his eyes.

“Fuck you. I not tell you everything. With honour, we die.”

Katsuki gives him a long, hard stare. Then a cruel smile spreads on his face. They've been torturing the Todoroki prisoners for a couple of hours now. They picked one by one, leaving the remaining stewing in fear for when they come for them. This one is the last one.

So far, they weren't very lucky. The four others that were brought in before this one didn't speak a word of Drakona and could only twitch in pain at the knives of their captors.

“Ah, so he can speak. Seems like it's your lucky day, bastard. Means that we two get to spend more time with each other.”, Katsuki grins at the man.

The man looks at him with exhausted eyes but the deep circles under his eyes don't hide the hatred in them.

“Do worst”, the man spits back and Katsuki only chuckles.

A good half hour later, Katsuki didn't get anything useful out of the man. Mainly because the man's hard to break. Most of the time he only spits out insults in very broken Drakona. Katsuki wonders if the information the man can give them will be of any worth considering how hard he is to understand.

Katsuki washes off the blood on his hands in front of his tent before entering his shared living space with y/n. There is no need for his mate to see that. The tent lies empty and silent upon his arrival. Katsuki frowns upon y/n's absence. He left her this morning munching on some bread before taking off to take care of the prisoners.

Did she run away again?, Katsuki ponders, I didn't give her any reason to be cross with me today, I think.

An unease settles over him, like always when y/n is up to something he doesn't know about. Of course, there is no harm in y/n wandering about the settlement and socializing with the other tribe members, but it's just... unexpected. Most of the other women don't, or at least only to a minimal degree. Furthermore, Katsuki's always on edge thinking that y/n might change her mind and take flight.

Katsuki turns on his heels and stomps through the village of tents with an air of authority. He doesn't want to ask any of his men if they've seen his mate. Probably, nobody would care but Katsuki thinks they might assume that he has no control over his own mate.

“Hey, Kats, where you off to?”, a voice calls out to him.

Katsuki was so deep in thought that he didn't notice that he was passing by Kirishima's tent. For a moment, he hesitates.

“Just lookin' for y/n.”, he tries to answer casually.

Kirishima laughs. “Always the attentive mate, eh?”, he teases and Katsuki feels the tips of his ear burning.

“I think I've seen her walking towards old woman Tomoko with a bunch of clothes. Maybe try your luck there.”, Kirishima tells him and Katsuki gives him a grateful nod.

Katsuki walks over to the old woman's tent and makes himself noticeable before walking in.

Y/n is standing in the middle of the room in one of her new dresses. Old woman Tomoko crouches next to her and cuts off the fabric at y/n's feet.

“Chief Bakugou.”, Tomoko greets her leader, “Have you come to check my progress with your mate's clothes?”

Katsuki does not know what she's talking about but doesn't want to look clueless in front of her, so he only agrees.

The woman stands up and holds up another dress. It is a thinner dress in a pink hue.

“We've already altered this one. Made is shorter and a bit firmer around the hips. Told her she might not want it firmer considering she might be with child when next summer comes, but she was very firm on this. Your mate certainly has her own head, don't you think?”, Tomoko chats away. Katsuki can only agree with her on that last part.

“Anyways, right now we're altering this one.”, Tomoko continues, “It's more suitable for the weather in the mountains, at least for her kind, I suppose. Although I've got to say I find all these dresses kind of ridiculous, don't you think? The fabric's so heavy, the skirt so long and even her arms aren't free. How can anybody move in clothes like these?”

Katsuki hums in agreement. “Don't know, but all the kingdom women wear clothes like this.”, he offers an explanation. Tomoko nods.

“Sure, sure, you're right. Then again, these women probably don't need to move much, don't they? The ones you brought at least don't seem to leave their tents very much.”, Tomoko points out.

“I guess so.”, Katsuki only answers. He doesn't feel like explaining to the old woman that that probably has different reasons.

“Well, I'm glad y/n's different. Poor thing doesn't understand a single word, but at least she's a bit more outgoing than the others, isn't she? Some may say she's a bit slow in the head, but I think she's a breath of fresh air around here.”, the old woman continues to chatter.

Katsuki's expression immediately darkens. “Who said that?”, he immediately wants to know. The old woman stops mid-movement sensing she probably shouldn't have mentioned that in front of the chief.

“Oh, you know, how people are...”, Tomoko tries to play it off, “It's just she's so slow at picking up our language so people assume she's not..., you know, so bright. But then again, it's hard to learn a language without a teacher and she's not a child anymore. Children are so much quicker at picking up these things. Anyhow, it's a pity I never learned the kingdom's language. You know, I had an aunt who was a half-blood and she spoke it fluently. Her mother came from...”

While Tomoko drifts off in a long explanation about her family's history, Katsuki's ears are still rushing with blood. Thinking about how members of his tribe say that y/n is mentally challenged does not sit right with him. Suddenly, there's a tuck at his hand. Y/n walked up to him and demands his attention. She presents him with a woven bracelet.

“Oh, yes, that. She made that out of fabric I cut off her dress. I wondered what that was about. It's quite pretty, isn't it? Your woman is quite resourceful, I have to say.”, Tomoko explains.

Carefully, y/n slips the bracelet over his right hand while Tomoko continues to explain the various things one can make with leftover fabric. Katsuki's head feels like it's about to explode. He forgot how much the old woman liked to talk. Y/n smiles up at him. Katsuki pinches her cheek in appreciation.

“Alright, old woman, I've got to get back to work. Make sure the dresses are altered the way she wants it.”, Katsuki interrupts Tomoko's torrent of words. The old woman abruptly stops her chattering and bows her head respectfully.

“Of course, chief, they'll be done by tonight.”, she tells him. Katsuki squeezes y/n's hand and turns to leave. He doesn't see the look of disappointment on y/n's face. She hoped that he would stay longer.

~*~*~*~

Katsuki lets the Todoroki soldier stew for the rest of the days. He's given a minimum of water. The knife in his leg is taken out and the wound is covered so that it doesn't get infected. After all, he shouldn't die on them that quickly.

He decides to visit the man before dinner. Maybe the prospects of food will make him talk. He enters the tent with a plate of hot stew and a slice of bread.

“Hungry?”, he asks while sitting down in front of the soldiers. The man stares right ahead.

Katsuki takes a spoonful of stew and shoves it inside his mouth.

“Ya' sure you don't want any?”, he asks challenging but the man doesn't answer him.

“How many days since you've last eaten? Two? Three? You must be starving.”, Katsuki points out.

The man grinds his teeth. “Not want the poison.”, the soldier bites out. Katsuki clicks his tongue.

“Poison? Buddy, we keepin' you alive. Be grateful, ya friends ain't gettin' any.”, he tells him. A mean grin spreads on the soldier's face.

“Sorry, mean I will not eat shit.”, he tells Katsuki. Katsuki grinds his teeth.

“Oh, sorry our food ain't good enough for the mighty soldier. Then again, maybe I should feed you like the pig you are.”, he replies and empties the hot content of the bowl into the man's crotch. The man howls in pain.

“Fuck you.”, the man grits out. “Ya, ye keep sayin' that. How's that workin' out for ya?”, Katsuki smirks.

“Now, I was nice to ya' but seems like ya' can't appreciate that. Maybe I should go back to doin' things the traditional way.”, he tells him and rams his thumb into the wound on his leg. The soldier screams out in pain.

“Katsuki!”

Katsuki whips around at the sound of the shocked voice behind him. Y/n's standing at the entrance of the tent looking white in the face. Slowly, Katsuki takes his hand off the man and turns around to her fully.

“What the hell are you doing?”, y/n demands to know. Katsuki assumes she wants an explanation, but someone else answers for him.

“What does it look like, honey? He's torturing me.”, the soldier says and lets out a croaked laugh.

Y/n stares at the soldier wide-eyed. For a moment, Katsuki is unable to move. Y/n storms past him, but Katsuki manages to catch her arm. However she twists towards the soldier on the chair.

“What do you mean? What's going on here?”, y/n asks the soldier. It's only then that Katsuki understands that they're speaking the same language. Of course they do, he curses internally.

“Well, you see honey, this lovely bastard over there...”, the soldier starts but he doesn't get to finish as the edge of Katsuki's hand makes a hard impact with his throat. The soldier makes a choking noise.

“Katsuki!”, y/n yells appalled and struggles against his hold but to no avail. He pulls her towards the exit of the tent. Y/n definitely shouldn't talk to this man. Who knows what lies the soldier will tell her.

“Bastard!”, the soldier chokes out in Drakona. Katsuki freezes for a second and turns back to him.

“You should better be careful how and to whom you talk around here.”, Katsuki says cooly but the man only grins at him.

“Scared I tell you girl the true?”, the man says and Katsuki sees red. Letting go of y/n, he storms towards the man and pushes him into the back of the chair.

“You don't talk to her. She's not yours to talk to. Don't even look at her. You understand that?”, he growls but the soldier only laughs.

“Best you knife my tongue then. But can talk no secrets then. Pity you.”, the soldier bites back. Katsuki takes a swing at him but y/n catches his wrist.

“Katsuki, don't. Are you insane?”, y/n yells. The soldier laughs in return.

“Clearly, he is.”, he points out, “But then again, he's from the dragon blood tribe. Haven't you noticed that, sweetheart?”

Y/n stares at the miserable man in front of her. His ragged clothes clearly are the remains of the kingdom's soldier uniforms. She's seen the uniform before on her brother when he said goodbye to her before joining the army. The soldier's face is covered in dirt and grime and his dark, purple hair sticks to his forehead in thick clumps.

She only wanted to look for Katsuki to tell him dinner's ready. She didn't expect to find him to torture a man who is clearly from the kingdom. She swallows hardly. What on earth is Katsuki up to?

“Cat caught your tongue, love?”, the man laughs.

Before y/n can respond, Katsuki interrupts. “You. Don't. Talk. To. Her.”, he presses. The soldier looks at him unimpressed.

“She not dragon blood tribe, right? Kingdom clothes and kingdom tongue. You steal her? Bet she prefer fuck me than you. Maybe she run away with me.”, the soldier spits into Katsuki's face in Drakona.

Katsuki doesn't want to lose control over his anger in front of y/n but the bastard makes it hard not to. “This is the last you see of her. Make sure to remember her form. It will be the last woman you ever see.”, Katsuki tells him.

Y/n's head whips back and forth between Katsuki and the soldier. Clearly, they're having a conversation she can't follow. She turns towards the soldier in front of her. Carefully, she asks: “Do you understand him?”. The soldier raises an eyebrow. “You don't?”, he returns the question. Embarrassed, y/n shakes her head.

Next to her, Katsuki yells something indecipherable and grabs onto her arm again, trying to pull her away again. Y/n struggles against him again. This time, Katsuki's grip isn't so hard since he gained some control over his emotions again. Y/n manages to free herself from him and takes a few steps back.

Y/n just stares at Katsuki. He's still red in the face from his outburst earlier. His breathing is hard and he tells her something pointing towards the exit. The soldier watches them with amusement.

“You know, he wants you to leave.”, he tells y/n. Y/n presses her lips together.

“Thank you, I figured as much.”, y/n replies and the soldier chuckles. Katsuki says something again, louder this time and tries to reach for her arm again. Quickly, y/n steps back.

“Want me to tell him something, sweetheart?”, the soldier offers.

Y/n stares hardly into Katsuki's eyes. It's one thing that the man she's stuck with is torturing somebody. That alone is a whole issue. Y/n isn't a violent person even though she knows in some situations one has no choice but to make use of it. But torturing an unarmed, tied-up man is something only people with no honor do. It's a whole other thing to hide that from her, get angry when she does find out and give her no explanation.

Y/n stands up more proudly. Shoulders pushed to the back, staring Katsuki down. He still looks angry as if it's her who is doing something wrong here.

Without looking at the soldier, she says:

“Yes, tell him that he's a dick.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

tag list:

@cosmicbreathe @hello0815 @miacitocco @exoticrasin @angie-1306 @gold24fish @stardream14 @metab0rn @ldk3347 @skibbiescoober @nutellaenjoyer @c04ti @grimm3r @kalulakunundrum @midnightprocrastinator @tetisthings @cax-per

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[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 3 months ago

Text

Let The Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | Short Series - Part 4 of 4 - 2.5k

Bucky isn't the only person looking to talk to you after you rescue the jet. But you're feeling far from heroic. But Bucky's seen you struggle before, and he's going to help you again too.

Warnings: description of a meltdown, angst, workplace bullying, negative introspection, but also fluff, Bucky being the softest and the sweetest, and...a kiss!

A/N: thank you to everyone who has read along, I'm so glad I finally shared this fic with you all and I hope you enjoyed it :)

<- Part 3

Masterlist | Let the Rain Fall Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The compound was calm again, the debris from the attack was being cleaned up by Stark’s crew and everyone was back to their day jobs as if nothing happened. But Bucky couldn’t move, couldn’t go back to the gym or paperwork, and just forget what he’d seen.

“She was just standing there, Steve, controlling the jet, she saved them all - I- what happened? What is she?”

Steve didn’t look up from the report he was reading, “I told you, she has her own skills.”

“What skills?” Bucky paced back across the room and in front of Steve’s eyeline.

“Can you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.” Steve shuffled up slightly to accommodate Bucky on the sofa as well. “Stop. Pacing.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know, her envelope is sealed. You’ve managed to get more out of her than any of us combined. So, I’m sure she’ll tell you in her own time.” He looked up at Bucky pointedly before returning to his report.

"You know, don't you?"

Steve ran a hand down his face and then back up, ruffling his normally neat hair.

"I do, if I tell you, will you promise to leave her alone?"

"Honestly? I won't lie to you... But I still need to know."

"To save you getting in trouble, opening people's files, I'll tell you what you've already seen. But then you have to leave her alone. I can't fight HR about you again."

Bucky sat down finally, watching the side of Steve's face.

"Telekenisis, that's what I heard when she joined." Steve went back to his paperwork, feeling the pressure of Bucky's stare before, turning to him. "Three years at Xavier's before graduating, she worked there for a while, then college, then here. To my knowledge she's only used her powers during emergencies, no field work, never requested it and always turned down our offers. She just likes being here, doing a normal job, and Stark likes having -" Steve paused, unsure of the word to use, "people with powers, on site, none combatant, just in case."

"She came out in the field with us though? Why?"

Steve laughed, pointedly looking Bucky up and down before slapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Why indeed. Now, keep it to yourself, don't go gettin' yourself in to trouble."

Despite Steve’s insistence that you were left alone, his orders didn’t trickle down to the other swat and tactical teams in the compound.

For the rest of the week you found team leaders, colleagues and even a few other agencies dropping into your inbox and asking you to help.

After a few days with no responses the Team B chief tactical officer even turned up at your door, banging on the wood and demanding to speak to you.

“Come on Agent, you know you’d be valuable in the field -” she’d paused, waiting for you to answer. But your words were gone, your mind foggy, incapable of anything but sitting quietly and staring out of the windows.

You could see some trees waving in the distance and focused on the way the top branches danced together. The view wasn't as nice as the one from Bucky's apartment and you tried to tell yourself that's what you were missing, the view, and not the man himself who would surely distance himself from you after this ridiculous display.

Fresh tears poured as your sub-conscious continued to berate you internally.

“Don’t you think it’s selfish to keep your talent to yourself? Think how many people you could save!”

You gave the Officer nothing, staying silent, the clouds slowly filled in behind the trees, drifting, drifting, your nails biting into your palms, shoulders bumping the chair as you rocked to and fro in time with the trees.

“Alright, think of how many people will die because you’re too fucking selfish and lazy to help them - have it your way, stay here behind a desk, let your fellow agents injure themselves needlessly doing work you should be doing.”

With that the Team B Tactical Officer stormed off back down the corridor, and you burst into tears.

“It’s not selfish,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing the blanket tighter around your shoulders, “it’s not selfish, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Your corridor was quiet, as it always was. No sign if you were in or not apart from the muddy boots left outside of your door. Bucky heaved in a breath, preparing for you to send him away. He knocked and waited.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

“Look, I know you’re in there.”

“Go.”

Your voice sounded broken, tired.

"Just wanted to let you know we caught that guy, so…everything's safe for you to come out now."

"Okay."

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

Bucky sighed, “please just let me in, we don’t have to talk, just let me make sure you’re okay and then I’ll go.”

The handle turned and the door cracked open almost imperceptibly. Bucky pushed it further, quickly stepping in and closing it behind him. You were very particular about your space, so he made sure to leave his coat and shoes by the door before slowly making his way to your living room.

Like your office, your apartment was cosy and comfortable. He found you curled into an armchair by the window, your furniture the same Stark issued items that were in his own living space. But you’d made everything your own with cushions and throws, blankets neatly folded on every arm and a huge, plush rug demarcating the space. You looked small in the chair, a huge fluffy hoody pulled down over your knees, the hood up so you were just a pair of sad eyes, watching him from your personal den.

“Hey, Doll.” Bucky gave you a weak smile, perching on the coffee table in front of you. It was littered with books and half full mugs of cold tea, multiple packets of your favourite biscuits, crumbs and ring marks where you’d run out of coasters. It wasn’t like you at all.

He looked back at your doe eyes, red from crying, staring unblinking at a spot above his shoulder. If it was anyone else he’d think you were staring at his arm, but he knew better than that, you’d never stared at him like that, you weren’t even looking at him now. “Do you need to talk about anything?” He offered.

Your eyes didn’t move from their fixed spot, but you shook your head from one side to the other, slowly.

Bucky furrowed his brow in confusion. He’d never seen you like this. Since getting to know him he’d found you chatty and buoyant, excited to share things with him and even if you never looked at him for very long, you certainly didn’t stare vacantly through him. He always knew you were listening, despite your tendency to fiddle and fidget, because you asked him about things later, recalled the most minute details of his day, and it struck him how much he already missed talking to you.

“Can I get anything for you?” You continued to stare, shrinking into yourself, but silent tears began to track down your cheeks. “I’m going to run you a bath, okay, and light some candles.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, scrolling through playlists until he found one that seemed calming. He liked to use music to make himself feel better, relying on tunes from his childhood mostly, and while he wasn’t sure what you’d like he figured something upbeat and instrumental was probably a safe bet.

When the bath was mostly full, bubbles spilling over the side and candles lit on the shelf, he went to collect you, expecting you to be in your robe or a towel. But you were still there, staring.

He sat again and reached out, “your bath’s ready, Doll, do you want me to help get you in it?”

“They could’ve died.” Your voice was a whisper, almost silent.

“What?”

“They could’ve died, if I did it wrong. I took a risk. I could’ve killed everyone. I shouldn’t. I promised.” Tears continued to flow and judging from the pinched line between your eyes you were beginning to get dehydrated.

He bent forward and scooped you into his arms, tucking you into his chest while he allowed your tears to pour out in sobs. Your whole body shook as he held you, rocking side to side and hushing gently in your ear.

"I don't like doing it, I never controlled it right and it's too much pressure, Bucky, I just can't. Every time is like this - this - weight and-" you sighed, inhaling a shuddering breath, "it's just a lot of responsibility and I don't want it. I didn't ask for it, I just want to be me, in my office, with my paperwork, where I can't hurt anyone."

“No one was hurt, no one was hurt because you helped.” He soothed, “let’s get you in the bath, clean up your cheeks-” he pulled back, rubbing his vibranium thumb under the tears shimmering down your face, “you must be tired, you worked so hard.”

“It wasn’t enough, I nearly dropped it.”

“You did a wonderful job.”

“It wasn’t good enough.” You replied, hotly, stumbling away from his embrace.

“No one was hurt, you saved the pilot and the ground crew. What more could you have done?”

“I could have put him down in a safer place, found the attacker, got to the airstrip faster, I could’ve been better. I should’ve been better. If I trained, if I was on a proper team…” You stalked to the bathroom, rubbing at your tear stained face. “This is- this is why I can't be an agent. I can't do this every time something happens, I can't feel this guilt that I should've done better and yet -” you sobbed, “they come here and, they tell me I'm selfish. Maybe they're right. But I can't put myself through this every. Single. Time. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it. I just wanted to be useful.”

“Doll,” Bucky's voice cracked. Is that really what you thought? That you had to be useful to be worth anything? “You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I just want to help, no one has to be useful to be worthy you know and -"

“Thank you for the bath.” You mumbled, cutting him off and shutting the door with a slam.

Bucky stared at the door and listened to the sound of you climbing into the bath. He’d been ready to help, he’d wanted to help. But he knew this was for the best and he was two strides towards the door, jacket in hand, when he stopped.

You been angry when you finally went into the bathroom, but before then it wasn't anger. You’d been sad and withdrawn and he thought back to the lonely evenings he’d spent staring out of the windows after his first therapy sessions. The way everyone had left him alone to his thoughts and it had somehow been so much worse. How he'd turned his own anger in on himself, berating himself for what he should've done.

He paused, putting his jacket back and surveying the now dark room. Light, that’s what you needed, the soft light from your many table lamps. He lit a candle on the coffee table and fluffed up the pillows from your nest of an armchair.

Taking a risk, he peered into your bedroom and, spotting your pyjamas on the bed, spread them out neatly along with a dressing gown and some soft socks.

You’d be hot after your bath so he made sure there was a bottle of sparkling water in the fridge, and plenty of cocoa in the jar, in case you wanted something hot.

Then he waited, trying not to listen to the soft sound of water moving over your body or the way you started to hum along with the song.

"You take as long as you need, okay? I'll be right here when you get out. If you need to talk, if you need to just sit. I'll be right here."

There was quiet, the water still, and then your voice floated out, "thank you…I'm sorry."

"Never had to be sorry to me, Doll, beaten myself up enough times to know you're feeling worse right now. I just want you to remember one thing okay?"

"Okay?"

"You're enough exactly as you are right now."

The water moved again, "thank you." You sighed the words on an outbreath and Bucky heard the faint plash of tears again.

He walked away, as much as he wanted to push the door open and wrap his arms around you, this wasn't the time. So he settled onto the sofa, ready to wait.

You had emerged from your bath to the sight of Bucky passed out on your sofa, a book half open in his lap.

The pyjamas he’d left for you on your bed were so comfortable and for a minute you’d bathed in their scent as deeply as you had your bath. But then you were craving something else, something more grounding than floating away in your thoughts again and suddenly all you could think about was Bucky.

You’d been so rude, slamming the door on him, and part of you dreaded seeing him again and facing up to your behaviour. So finding him asleep in your living room was certainly not what you expected.

“Oh, hey Doll, sorry, must’ve passed out. You alright?” He blinked awake, pushing himself up again and you watched the way his long shirt rumpled around his waist, exposing the slightest slither of skin before it was hidden again.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled, “you’ve been so kind and -”

“I told you, nothing to apologise for,” he gave you a sleepy, lopsided smile and patted the cushion beside him, “come and get comfy, you want a snack?”

You stared at him and watched the smile fall from his face.

“I’ve overstayed my welcome, sorry.”

He stood to go and your thoughts whirled, panicking, he can’t go, you needed him here, stay, stay, stay. Why wasn’t your mouth working? Stay! But nothing came out, you just carried on staring until -

Your voice was broken, but your body wasn’t, and instead of asking him to stay you went careening into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to the worn material of his Henley. He smelt so good, warm and safe and your thoughts went quiet, your heart stopped racing. You sighed.

Bucky looked down at you, one arm finding its way around your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck.

You looked up and his lips met yours, gentle, loving, understanding. He tasted of cinnamon and chocolate, his lips perfectly soft against your own.His hands flexed, holding you tighter, pressing into you and drawing you closer against his body.

“Stay,” your voice was swallowed by his kisses and he hummed his agreement, holding you tighter against him. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. “It’s best -” you twirled his dog tags in your fingers, “if you’re really clear so I understand.”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” he smiled before finding your lips again.

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a-certain-romance · 10 months ago

Text

Annoyed

Synopsis: Making their in-game ‘Annoyed’ voicelines all about you (smut no angst)

Characters/Ships: fem!reader x Rahu, Zoya, Chameleon, Bai Yi, Du Ruo, Angell, Eirene, and Shalom (Separate)

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, oral (Shalom & Rahu), Rahu has a cock, spanking (Zoya), fingering (Chameleon, Bai Yi, Angell), slight mommy kink (Du Ruo), strap on (Du Ruo), face sitting (Eirene), inexperience (Shalom & Angell), loss of virginity (Shalom & Angell), reader sometimes referred to as Chief

A/N: Format is a bit different bc so many characters. It seems the smut gods possessed me I finished this in just a few hrs. Will probably make a pt 2 using ‘special attention’ voicelines as well for other charas.

“You’re the chief of the MBCC, yet you’re doing such things…have you no shame?” She grunts out, trying to maintain her composure despite the way your hand is currently pumping her leaking cock. “Do you want me to stop, Rahu?” You ask from between her legs. She eyes you warily. “Someone will walk in and see us.” “The door is locked.” “Seems like you have an answer for everything,” she scoffs. Rahu’s hands grasp the chair’s arms in an attempt to stay clear headed. It doesn’t it work. She huffs, ripping the mask off her face and grips it tightly in her hand. “Make it quick…” she growls, head tilting back in pleasure. “Will do~” you smirk triumphantly before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her tip.

You and Zoya were in the middle of a meeting with other higher ups in the Leigon. She always radiates power and confidence wherever she goes. You thought you were used to it by now. But seeing her give out orders in such an authoritative tone made you weak in the knees. When she sat back down in her chair, your hand made a journey from her knee, to her thigh, and now rests dangerously close to an area that will surly get you in trouble later. “Are you…provoking me?” She grits out at a volume only you could hear. You smile, “I’m being discreet.” “Discreet my ass.” Zoya grips your hand from underneath the table to stop it from moving further. “You want me that bad? You’re such a needy fucking brat. Just wait until this meeting is over.” When the meeting comes to a close, Zoya locks the conference room doors. “I thought I trained you better than this,” she sighs in disappointment. She pulls out a chair and manhandles your body over her lap. “You’re going to count every slap I give you and if you lose count, we’re starting over.” She lands a harsh swat to your exposed rear. “One…”

Chameleon is an alluring woman, and her seductive tactics only render you to be more compelled by her every word. She leans forward from where she was seated and traps you in your chair, her hands planted on either side of the seat you’re in. “I know what you're thinking about... no subconscious impulses go unnoticed before my eyes.” She brushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “So tell me Chief,” she murmurs, “do you want me to take control?” Her question hangs in the air for only a second before you allow it with a breathy “yes”. She smiles dangerously, a glint in her eyes that every sinner gets when they know they’ve won. “Perfect,” she whispers, trailing kisses down and around your neck, leaving bright red marks before moving on to the next. Her hand slides underneath your pants, glides under your panties, and only stops when her fingers meet those slick waiting lips she’s been vying for. “Just let it happen.”

Bai Yi tends to be the ‘top’ in your relationship. She can’t help but want to overstimulate you with orgasm after orgasm, drinking in the sound of your moans and your sweetness on her tongue. “Oh? How unusual. Are you taking the lead today? In that case, let’s have some fun…” Bai Yi grins as you lean over her. “But are you sure? You just look so damn good in this outfit, I really want to ravage you.” She whines playfully. It doesn’t take long for you to turn her into a crying, moaning mess. “O-okay no more edging, please let me cum!” She begs. “I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Why won’t you let me—” “Where are your manners?” You scold, stilling your curled fingers right before they hit her g-spot. “Ask me nicely and maybe, maybe, I’ll give you the release you so desperately crave.” Bai Yi curses, biting her lip as she sobs in pure ecstasy. “I’ve been such a good girl, chief. I deserve to cum after all that edging and torment.” She pouts, awaiting your decision. “You make a good case,” you sigh, leaning near her ear, “but I think you can take a little more.”

Du Ruo was reading through one of her many mythological books as she laid in bed. She was deeply enthralled by the information she was learning, but her focus broke when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. “Stop messing around…” she giggled melodically over your wandering hands. Your arms moved up to wrap around her neck, your head resting on her plush chest. “Aw, is my baby needy for attention?” She coos, “Want me to take care of you?” You nod, and she closes the book with care before setting in on the nightstand. From the drawer below, she pulls out the contents needed for her to wear a rather large strap on. “Are you comfortable?” She asks sweetly. Du Ruo places her hands on your bare hips, letting the tip gather your wetness before she dares to push in. “Good, now hold still for mommy~”

“You seem anxious. Do you want me to do something?” Intimacy was almost foreign to Angell. It took a while for the two of you to form a relationship, but it was worth all the effort and more. Angell wanted to try her best—the best is what you deserve really. But there was one thing she wasn’t so keen at. “Something as in…?” “Let me pleasure you.” She asserts, and the rare sight of a blush dusts her cheeks a light pink. She crawls onto the bed towards you and her body towers over your frame. “I want to learn how you make you feel good. Teach me.” And so you show her. Angell takes off your clothes with great anticipation. Her eyes rake over your body and you swear you’ve never seen her desire you more in any other moment. “I’ll talk you through it,” you say softly before guiding her hand down to your core. “Once your fingers go in, do whatever feels right to you. Stroke, scissor or curl your fingers or—oh my god—“ you moan abruptly at her ministrations. “Yes, like that, Angell that feels so good.” She continues to pleasure you, her eyes zeroed in on how her fingers disappear into your wet heat. When you climax, she tentatively brings her slick fingers to her lips and sucks. Angell’s eyes widen and in a flash her fingers enter you once more, her mouth moving lower to get a better taste of you. It seems like it’s going to be a long night.

“If there is something you desire, just tell me honestly. You and I, we don't need to play this game.” She cocks an eyebrow, waiting for your next move. Eirene is analytical. Eirene is patient. Except when it comes to you, and how good your tongue feels inside her after a long stressful day. Eirene weakly grinds her cunt against your mouth as she sits on your face. Your tongue laps at her greedily and she can’t help the sinful moans that escape. Her hand moves to cover her mouth in an attempt to conceal them, but a harsh slap to her thigh convinces her to grip the headboard and be louder instead. “Chief!” She cries out, spreading her legs wider so you have more to work with. “I’ll never get enough of you. Please, don’t hold back.” Eirene lets out a gasp when she reaches her climax. When you try to move her off, she holds up your head to meet her eyes. “Again.”

“Okay, okay, okay... This is a "virgin" territory for you, huh? Now, give me your hand. I'll teach you how to do it properly.” You didn’t expect today of all days to be the one where Shalom takes your virginity, but you weren’t complaining. “I’m going to put your legs over my shoulders now, just let them rest there while I pleasure you.” You nod and try to calm yourself, but you can’t help the nerves that rise to the surface. “Chief,” she nips the inside of your thigh playfully, “I won’t hurt you. We can stop whenever you’d like.” You put your trust in her hands and give her the green light. She delves in, and although this is all new, it feels so damn good. You let her awaken every new sound you never knew you could make. It’s almost too much. You grasp for the bedsheets, or maybe that was a blanket? Your hand settles on her head and you can’t help but push her in further. Your legs shake involuntarily and the pressure in your lower region starts to build up. You call out Shalom’s name as you experience your first orgasm. “Relax, I’ve got you.” She says, moving any hair away from your sweaty forehead. In your afterglow, you shift around to curl up against her. “So, how do you feel now that you’ve experienced your first?” She asks. “…Can we do that again?”

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hueseok · 10 months ago

Text

( 16. ) A LOVER’S KISS.

a friends with benefits relationship never ends on a good note. unless, both parties are not dumb fucks who find themselves falling for each other along the way of their agreement, of course.

and in yours and jeongguk’s case, you should have known better than to think the two of you would be an exception to the so-called curse of being friends with benefits with someone you already hold dear to you, since not even five months since it was agreed upon—the line between being only friends and being a little like lovers only continue to get hazier and hazier.

note. no smut for this part, but i’m keeping the rating 18+ and have the smut label above since this drabble series overall isn’t suitable for minors !!

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 16. the one with a lover’s kiss !

jeongguk couldn’t sleep the night before the competition.

it’s not the first time this happened, of course. one can guess that he should be used to it at this point due to the nerves and the pressure and his desire to do great for the sake of the university’s reputation and for his own reputation as well (and maybe because of the expectations of his coach too who often wasn’t that kind in order to push him to the farthest of his limits).

however, as made apparent by you before you attended class earlier, he didn’t just have the game to keep in mind for tomorrow, no—because as you have explained to him and cruelly reiterated when he called you a few minutes ago just for the purpose of hearing your voice before he tried to sleep—tomorrow was also going to be the day in which you were going to tell him your decision on whether you were willing to fully take him back again or not after the whirlwind of events that happened to your relationship these past weeks.

he wanted to believe that he had a good chance in winning you back; he wanted to confidently say that there was perhaps no way you would reject him, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high either. god knows how much that could hurt once you give him your answer and it turns out to be the opposite of what he was guessing. though a part of him was already convinced that surely, you wouldn’t have entertained his sweet gestures this week since making up if it wasn’t going to lead to you taking him back, right?

right?

you possibly couldn’t be that brutal.

though in your defense, he didn’t think he had the right to be angry if leading him on was your plan all along. truth be told, he has been both intentionally and unintentionally brutal to you before to have the nerve to complain, that if you were going to take this opportunity to get the revenge you wanted, then he should just be a man about it and accept it the way it is.

***

“i don’t see her.”

jeongguk couldn’t breathe. he took a dramatic inhale to calm himself and regulate his heartbeat. “anywhere? you don’t see her with the guys and just—somewhere in the bleachers, maybe?”

“nope.” jimin glanced at him. “why? is ____ not coming? haven’t you two made up already? don’t tell me you did something stupid again.”

“we’re fine.” he rolled his eyes, slightly unsettled by his own statement. “it’s just important that she’s here.”

“yeah, i know, she’s your lucky charm, blah blah blah.”

“it’s not that.” jeongguk huffed. “well, it’s a part of it, but it’s bigger than that. is it wrong for me to want to try and find her before the competition begins?”

“yeah, coach would kill you if he doesn’t find you here when he arrives, so i advise you to just chill and be patient. maybe she’s just running a bit late.”

“yeah, you’re right. i’m just paranoid, am i?”

“what are you even exactly paranoid about?” jimin asked.

jeongguk frowned. talking about it out loud made it too real, and he preferred not to do it because of that, but he figured that he should at least tell someone about it if he wanted more insight perhaps. at least jimin has been a far better partner to yebin than jeongguk ever was to you to not be the person suitable to talk about this with. “she said if she doesn’t attend, that means she’s dumping me.”

jimin’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “really? i never thought ____ had it in her.”

“she made it clear that she’s not going to see me anymore if i don’t see her today. i’m practically on the verge of death right now—or the start of my emo boy era.”

jimin snorted. “didn’t you already go through that phase?”

“no, i haven’t.”

“yeah, you have. you’ve been moping for a few solid weeks when you and her weren’t okay. can’t say that you don’t deserve it. after what you did, you realize that it’s fair for her to play you around a bit, right?”

jeongguk wanted to strangle jimin sometimes because of his bluntness and desire to always tease the hell out of the people he’s close with (which unfortunately included jeongguk). but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that it was good to have a friend like him who could slap the facts in your face in order for you to see the truth and the implication of your actions—and be sometimes funny with it, for that matter.

“is it really?” jeongguk asked.

“well… i mean, it is in a way that you should see how lucky you are that you’re going to get your answer straight away. if i was her, i would have dragged this winning her back thing for a whole year before dropping the bomb that maybe we should just stay friends.”

“you seriously can’t be that cruel, jimin.”

“i could be, if someone really fucked me up.” he laughed. “but ____ isn’t like that. and i know she has strong feelings for you too. so maybe the best course of action now is to just trust what she decides for the both of you and live with it.”

this wasn’t the pep talk that jeongguk was expecting to receive before the tournament.

“and what am i supposed to do if she doesn’t come and that means we’re really over?” he questioned again.

jimin sighed. “then i guess you just have to go back to your emo tendencies and move on.”

***

the first time jeongguk personally asked if you could go to one of his matches, you and him weren’t secretly sleeping with each other yet. you were still in that weird phase of being great friends when you have the rest of the gang with you, but suddenly being really quiet and awkward with each other when it was just you two. he never even thought of inviting you alone when it came to his scheduled races, believing that he was doing the both of you a favor by not putting yourselves in a situation wherein you and him will just fall back to the usual cringeworthy interactions that will lead him physically wincing whenever he remembered them.

but that time, you overheard his conversation with taehyung who was apologizing that he couldn’t come for his match that weekend because of a project he needed to work on, and jeongguk, upon hearing him explain, visibly expressed his disappointment at the news because he wanted a friend to be there just so they could take a proper picture and video for him that he could look back after (if it wasn’t mentioned yet, jeongguk was obsessed with always doing a better performance than his last).

“i can go,” you volunteered before, your eyes focused still on the monitor inside the campus publication office but your ears were paying attention to them. “i’m free this saturday.”

jeongguk looked at you afterwards with a look that showed absolute hesitance. he was thankful that you weren’t peering at him to notice. “oh. you sure, ____? i wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“it’s fine.” you flickered your gaze to him. “though, if you don’t want me to be there, that’s totally okay too—”

“what? don’t be ridiculous.” a very very awkward chuckle tumbled out of jeongguk’s lips, one that taehyung furrowed his eyebrows at because of how fake it sounded. “why wouldn’t i want you to be there? of course you can come. i’d be really glad if you do.”

he didn’t know what response he was expecting, but you grinned, nodding in an skeptical manner, and then returned to what you were doing like nothing happened. jeongguk decided to face taehyung again afterwards, the latter staring at him with a similar dubious yet funny look, but he punched his arm and opted to flee from the office, muttering that he was going to be late for class if he stayed any longer.

fast forward to when the tournament came and he finished first place, he was ecstatic, brimming with pride because of his accomplishment—and when he met you outside the locker room to thank you for really coming and taking shots of him that he would review that night, he was a bit startled when you congratulated him with a tight hug, not used to that kind of affection from you.

sure, he always knew you were sweet to your close friends. you were like that to goeun, taehyung, and haru.

to him, though? that was the first.

“i’m so proud of you, guk!” you told him, the smile on your face so bright that he thought he might have to squint to look at you properly. “this is your first win of the season, right?”

jeongguk nodded. “yeah, i think it is.”

from that point forward, things weren’t so awkward between the both of you. your friendship solidified further when he asked if you wanted to help him with something at his uncle’s newly built restaurant, and you agreed, recognizing the same newfound comfort he was beginning to feel that you were eager to foster it more because it didn’t sit right with you how you were alright with everyone else and yet weird with him.

now, he didn’t want to think of the possibility of things being like that again. he barely survived not talking to you that much during the soomi fiasco and the period wherein he purposely avoided you to not cause any more damage than he had after the confrontation. it was one of the driving forces why he made up his mind in truly pursuing you—the realization that he wasn’t fond of the idea of not being able to talk to you every single day, of not being able to tell you the most random things and be certain that you would always know what to say next.

entering the natatorium, jeongguk didn’t appear as if he was hiding the fact that he was searching for you among the crowd. he already quickly spotted taehyung, haru, and goeun at their spot (you weren’t there), and then he tried searching for yebin, hoping that you decided to accompany her instead this time to create some kind of suspense (you still weren’t there when he saw her). so, all he could do after was let his eyes explore the whole venue as fast as he could, his heart hammering harder at every instance he failed to find you.

was this going to be the end of it all?

were you not coming?

was yesterday the final moment he got to hold you?

“guk,” his coach abruptly called his attention, “take your jacket off. it’s about to start,” he said, noticing jeongguk’s stiff posture as he stood there at the starting platform, immobile while the other players he was competing against were already removing their clothes.

jeongguk took one long scan again.

he still couldn’t see you.

and although he has yet to dive into the water, it felt as if he lost the ability to swim and was drowning to the bottom of the pool.

****

“congratulations!”

jeongguk could at least afford them a genuine smile as taehyung, haru, and goeun pulled him for a group hug. they simultaneously and continuously patted his back, the two boys doing it in a harsh manner to annoy the hell out of him that jeongguk had to groan and shove them off to prevent them from doing further damage to his aching body, though not without laughing and muttering his thanks for both being here and congratulating him.

“you did great back there,” haru said with a proud grin. “you’re definitely going to be the cover of the next issue again with the victory. i doubt i have to get ____’s approval just to make that happen.”

at the mention of your name, jeongguk’s attempt to seem fine crumbled a little. it didn’t go ignored by the rest of the gang with him; although they weren’t aware of the deal you and jeongguk had, they could understand that your absence today meant that something was wrong.

goeun cleared her throat, the silence insufferable that she couldn’t resist finally speaking up. “well, uh, haru mentioned that he’s also treating us today.” she placed an arm around haru’s shoulders, tiptoeing and struggling in the process. “right, ru?”

haru glanced at her. “i am?”

“you are.” taehyung chimed in, linking his arms with haru as if to lock him in. “you said you would if jeongguk wins first place.”

“i did?” haru’s tone remained confused.

jeongguk had to chuckle at their dumb effort to lighten the mood again. it was obvious that no conversation which involved haru saying that he was going to treat them later if jeongguk indeed won occurred.

“don’t worry,” jeongguk said to haru, “i already messaged my uncle about the win and he’s gonna cook for us at the restaurant.”

“thank god.” haru exhaled a relieved breath. “because i do not have enough money right now to pay for all of us.” he glared at goeun.

“sorry, but someone had to say something,” she muttered.

“and you thought saying that i was going to treat everybody was the perfect thing to mention?” asked haru.

her shoulders lifted up in a shrug. “you’re the most generous out of us three.”

“no, he’s not,” taehyung butted in, “i think that title goes to me.”

“is it?” goeun asked. “you’re probably the most frugal of us all.”

“sensible is the right term for that,” defended taehyung.

jeongguk was about to join in the banter, to divert the teasing towards taehyung more as some sort of payback for the back slaps he got earlier, but just as he was opening his mouth to get a sentence out, he saw you coming into view.

you were here.

you came.

but you were late. what did that mean?

“____,” jeongguk breathed out.

the group automatically shut up, whirling around to see where jeongguk was staring at.

he was very much tempted to run to you, but his knees stayed put, somehow frozen in place. a part of him perhaps knew that talking to you immediately might be the wrong choice. he was afraid that the reason why you arrived late today was because you were still planning to reject him, that you were just being nice about it by doing it in person instead of text—but that was more cruel, in his opinion. he rather you don’t see his face when give him the news that you’re not willing to be with him again.

“hey,” you said, looking directly at him before diverting your attention to the rest of the crew. “you guys mind if guk and i speak alone?”

a pause.

“yeah, it’s cool.” haru was the first one to say, followed by taehyung, and then goeun.

“thanks.” you smiled.

they awkwardly shuffled and made their way to the exit of the locker room. they gave one last look to jeongguk just as they disappeared into the hallway, as if they were wishing him luck or reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, and looked at you too, as if they were sending a similar message that translated more into ‘please don’t break his heart or else this friend group might turn weird’.

when they were gone and definitely out of earshot, jeongguk finally had the courage to take a step forward. “____,” your name tumbled out of his lips again, “what are you—”

“i told you so,” you cut him off. you were going to lead this conversation, you made that mental note to yourself earlier prior to leaving your place, and you were going to say everything you had to say to him that maybe you never had the courage to do so in the past. “you didn’t need me here to win.”

he frowned. “winning is the last thing on my mind today, honestly.”

“that’s not a good mindset for an athlete.”

“it isn’t.”

you pursed your lips. “still, you won.”

“i guess, i did, huh?”

“without me there too.”

“yeah, you already said so.” although he didn’t appear resentful, he sounded bitter. “are you going to keep repeating that because you want to prove that even without you, i’ll be okay?”

“that wasn’t my intention.”

“then what is your intention exactly? i thought you said that if you didn’t come today, then that would mean that you’re not willing to give me a second chance.”

“and yet… i’m here, guk.”

he raised his eyebrows. “you are, but you were… you’re late.”

“because i chickened out.”

“you chickened out?”

you moved forward and sat on the empty bench across him. it was a lot easier to pour your heart out when doing that was only done through your imagination. “i was supposed to be here earlier. it’s just, uh, i… i’ve been—i’ve been stalling.”

it was true. you were adamant last night that you were going to give him a second chance. you were confident that for the past few days, regardless of how short the span was, jeongguk managed to prove to you that he was serious in wanting to commit to a real relationship with you. you saw that in the manner he always looked after you, in the manner he made time for you, in the manner he didn’t shy away from showing you affection when he felt like it—you were convinced that even though he never said it out loud, he really liked you, because the things he did… you were positive that you didn’t just do that to someone you didn’t like.

but you were also really fucking scared. it dawned to you last night (while you were overthinking everything and talking to yourself) that it indeed hasn’t been that long and that you were being too easy again for jeongguk; you were laying yourself out to him without him struggling that much. and why? because you loved him, of course. because you were afraid that if you prolonged this, he would give up and you were going to be alone and hurt once more.

“hey.” jeongguk placed his hands over yours as he knelt in front of you, hair wet and expression sincere; you didn’t notice him walk towards where you were, you were too preoccupied in your thoughts again to catch it. “you don’t have to…” he struggled with what he was going to say, mostly because it wasn’t what he wanted to happen, “you don’t have to give me a second chance if you’re not up for it.”

“really?”

his heart dropped. it was only a hypothetical statement; he didn’t expect you to bite the idea.

“um…” he tried to speak, realizing that acting like a martyr isn’t part of his portfolio, but he was willing to act one right now to not make this harder for you. “i mean… it’ll suck ass, and i’ll probably cry for months, and i’ll beg you first not to date anyone else while we’re still studying in the same university—but after that, after i stop being a big baby about it, i’ll…”

“you’ll what?” you were waiting for what he was going to tell you next. the corners of your mouth were turned slightly upwards at the hint of playfulness in his tone.

he scooted closer to you. fuck his knee; the high probability of it being bruised if he stays kneeled on the ground was the least of his worries. “i’ll stay by your side and i’ll try harder until you get tired of me. it’s what i told you the other day, didn’t i? i won’t ask you to be gentle with my feelings—i’ll let you torture me and walk me around like a dog. i’ll follow you wherever you’ll go, just patiently waiting ‘til you decide i’m worth your time. i’ll let you hurt my feelings, ____, because between us two, i know that it’s my heart that deserves a pretty good beating.”

you snorted at how dramatic his speech sounded. “hurting you is far from what i want. i’m not that sadistic.”

“then what is it that you want?”

“you.”

jeongguk couldn’t stop the smile from conquering his features. he got the answer he wanted to hear. “i want you too.”

“i don’t mean that in a horny way, okay?” you quickly clarified and he had the strength now to laugh. “i want you to be here for me—all the time—is what i mean. i want you to continue being my best friend, and i also want you to kiss me whenever you feel like it. i want you to annoy the shit out of me, i want you to hug me, i want you to volunteer to do the most random stuff just to help me, and i want you to keep proving that you want us to work, guk. i want you to always remind me that it’s safe to let my guard down and give you my 100% all the time.”

“i’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he promised. “you can trust me, babe. you can even exceed that 100% and make it 200 or a thousand—” your laughter echoed in the locker room.

jeongguk joined you, laughing as well, but as he did, it was also sinking in that what happened between the both of you left a huge mark that made it difficult for you to trust him. he couldn’t blame you, no, not after what he did, and he was eager to change that. he was optimistic that he could do that—because he knew it inside him that he has strong feelings for you. he could even say that he loved you and it would feel right.

“i’m sorry for being late,” you said.

he shook his head. “don’t be. i kind of deserved it.”

“well, you’re not wrong.”

“wow. you’re not a sadist, huh?”

you snickered; jeongguk grinned. he could stay in this moment forever, just you and him staring at each other, this unexplainable yet gooey feeling in your chests making it seem like everything was going to turn out fine.

and then he asked, “can i kiss you?”

your eyebrows rose. you remembered the last time he asked you that, when you were both in the middle of sex and you were hesitant to grant him that kiss because you were afraid of the repercussions that would soon come after once you did. yet, thinking more about the moment, he didn’t really ask you before, really. it was more like a demand, a plea, and it was different from what he was doing right now because despite appearing like he could beg just to get that kiss, it was still so sincere and was done out of—

love.

love? he hasn’t said that out loud before. you didn’t want to assume. but the way he was gazing at you…

you placed your palms on his cheeks while he didn’t hesitate in extending his arms so that they were circled around your waist, pulling you closer that unconsciously caused you to open your legs to make space for his upper body.

“doesn’t your knee hurt?” you whispered.

jeongguk pressed his lips together. “it’s tolerable.”

there you were again, with that infectious laugh, leading jeongguk to be tempted further to just kiss you without waiting for an answer. “okay, guk.”

he gave you a questioning look.

you rolled your eyes. “yeah. you can kiss me. but if you do...” you trailed, “that would mean that you’re taking the lucky opportunity of being my boyfriend.”

“i’ll make sure to thank you every day for that wonderful honor.” he allowed himself to push forward and kiss your lips. it was what he was dying to do for the past week; it wasn’t enough that he was only close to you or had the permission to hug you every now and then—his body craved to have you close, not in a manner that was horny like disclaimed just seconds ago too, but for all the reasons that you illustrated as well.

kissing you gave him the signal that you were close. and god, did he always want you close.

“i’ll be better,” he murmured, kissing you continously. “i’ll treat you better, ____.”

you didn’t answer. you just smiled and kissed him further.

when for the past months, having your mouth on his was the thing you had to avoid the most, finally having the liberty to do it now just drove you to do it over and over again.

note. hehe surprise? this update took so long that i think it took two whole damn years before i got the motivation to write again and finish this 😭 apologies for that lmao. life has been a whirlwind but since i'm now in a much happier state, i decided to try continuing this and i'm glad that it ended up with me finally concluding the story :D

honestly, i'm not too sure if got the vibes / essence of the story still since i haven't touched this mini series in such a long time. nonetheless, i did reread it and i hope that i brought justice to what you might have thought the ending was going to be! (also, i might edit this later on for improvement bc i just realized that my writing perhaps did not improve lmao but for now, this is what i can only offer >.<)

as always, THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

taglist (1/3): @fan-ati--c @marknee @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @jiminisnotavirgin @joondala @afangirllikeme-blog @jxxvk @this-is-seriousbusinesz @swga-ficrecs @apollukee @bloopkook @jaerisdiction @thisartemisnevermisses @koolvrr @wearenot7withu @brilliantmoon7 @naturules @betysotelo18 @jinyoungie0922 @codeinebelle @minimoni7 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @moonchild1 @taeshuworld @daydreambrliever @lilyflowerguk @rjsmochii @namjeonii @drownforryou @sugapiie @emeriroth @xius-exos @sw33tnight @lunaoceanchild @outropjmm @dojacandy @brit97 @abyjil @haruharux23 @haniiii @callmejimmeo @itsalyssa15 @hinawariinoue97 @libra04 @gukkmoans (striked means tumblr won’t let me tag them!)

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #bts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts drabbles #jungkook drabbles #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios

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cas-kingdom · 3 months ago

Note

For the sentence prompts! Hope you are doing well Cas💜!

Begging for forgiveness was the only option at this point

A/N: Used the sentence at the end instead!

When Mark burst into the chief’s office, you had your top half hanging off the sofa, a lollipop in your mouth. You stared at him upside-down for about five seconds while you waited for him to speak.

“Mark Sloan is having a baby,” he finally announced, a very slight edge to his voice.

You blinked, then heaved yourself up and turned towards him.

“Y/N says congrats,” you said, your words garbled around the sweet in your mouth.

Mark reacted immediately. He shut the door and pointed an accusatory finger straight at you. “Don’t play coy with me. I know it was you.”

"Me?"

"You started the godawful rumour suddenly floating around the hospital!"

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” With expert skill and practice, you sat back and crossed your arms over your chest. When Mark’s glare intensified, because you absolutely had an idea of what he was talking about, a corner of your lips quirked upwards and you pulled the lollipop from your mouth. “Maybe you should go back to your baby mama.”

Mark chuckled dangerously and rubbed his hands together. “Y/N, sweetheart. Peanut. Little worm. You’re dead.”

He made a move, lurching towards you, and you stood on the couch, brandishing the lollipop like a weapon. “Hey. Hey! Now you know what it feels like!”

“What what feels like?”

“It’s your own fault for making it so believable!”

“What what feels like, Y/N?”

“To have your life ruined!”

Mark scoffed. “This is because I put dye in your shampoo? Temporary dye, Y/N, it was temporary dye!”

“My hair was green for a week!”

“Everyone said it suited you!”

“Because you told everyone it was my choice!” You narrowed your eyes at him as he put his hands on his hips. “I’m not sorry. I’m never gonna be sorry. You’re a dad now, congratulations. Hope you’re a better father than you are a fake uncle.”

The surgeon’s jaw dropped. “Okay, now, that one hurt.”

“Not as much as your penis hurt when your baby mama broke it for getting her pregnant.”

Mark's eyes widened. He’d thought the pregnancy rumour was enough—God knew he’d had his fill of those—but there was more? Really, he should have expected it. This was Y/N Shepherd he was talking about. The only person who could one up him.

Suddenly forgetting his quest for revenge, Mark thrust his face in his palms and slumped down on a chair by the desk. “Anything else I need to know about?” he mumbled, wincing in anticipation of the answer.

Before you could smugly offer one, the door opened once again to reveal Richard. His eyes quickly roved the room before landing on Mark. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why am I being told you’re taking extended paternity leave when the twins have barely been conceived?" There was a brief silence before: "Congratulations, by the way.”

You snorted.

Mark groaned.

Richard rose a brow. “Or…commiserations?”

Mark turned wide, befuddled eyes on him. "Webber, you think it’s true?”

Richard, perplexed, glanced between you and Mark. “It’s not?”

“No!”

Richard shrugged. “Congratulations, then.” He left the room only to pop his head back in a second later. “So, your…”

“Is all in working order!”

“Right. Bye.”

Mark turned to look at you, a gleam in his eye that you recognised all too well. You bit your bottom lip, still standing on the couch. “I told you it’s your own fault for making it so believable.”

He stared. Hard. Then, in about a second, he vaulted himself towards you. You clumsily leapt over the back of the couch with a squeal, falling to the floor with a thud but not caring in the slightest as you scrambled to make your escape.

“You wanna tell me who I’m having these twins with?” Mark asked, making a wild grab for you and snagging the hood of your sweater.

“A cafeteria lady! You thought her buns were top notch!”

Begging for forgiveness was the only option at this point.

Grey’s Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

#grey's anatomy #mark sloan #mark x reader #mark sloan x reader #reader #reader fic #daughter reader #daughter!reader #richard webber #mine #5 line fanfics #derek shepherd

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thelonestarinthesky · 3 months ago

Text

¹. ....ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ

⁺₊✦₊　

pairing: senku x f!reader

chapter 1 of 2/2-i.senku series

a/n: the next chapters are gonna be flashbacks until the story is back to the present!!

⁺₊✦₊　　

Standing in the village cemetery among the gravestones, Ruri and Senku shared a moment of quiet reflection. "I wanted to ask; the reason you requested a divorce immediately after becoming chief is that you already have someone waiting for you, right?" she asked softly.

"She was mentioned in the hundredth tale," Senku replied, his hand twitching at the thought. "Correct?" Ruri's silence answered this.

"That's right. I'm not surprised my father included her in the hundredth tale; he was rather fond of her." Ruri noticed how tense he became at the mention of this girl.

"... You didn't say a word about her when I became chief. The rules stated that to participate in the Grand Bout, you needed to be over 14 and unmarried," he pointed out.

The blonde girl smiled knowingly. "I thought it was best to leave out that small detail," she chuckled, glancing up at the stars. "... That you already have a wife."

Senku looked at her in disbelief. "I don't—" He paused, then sighed. "... Yes, I have a wife," he admitted, though it sounded forced. "You mentioned that she's in the hundredth tale; what is her story?"

"Sleeping Beauty," Ruri began, prompting a visible cringe from Senku. 'Of course, my old man would think of something like that,' he thought.

"Before the princess became Sleeping Beauty, she lived a peaceful life. She had family, friends, and a lover. But at the age of 16, her health deteriorated. She was supposed to get better, but one day, she fell asleep and never woke up. To this day, she remains in that deep slumber, waiting for her lover," Ruri concluded. "This story is exactly meant to teach survival skills, don't ignore a hit to your head even if you think it's nothing serious because it could be more serious in the end."

A silence settled between them before Senku looked up at the night sky, a breeze swaying them slightly. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep this between us."

"Of course," the priestess replied, smiling softly. "If that's what you want."

"[Name]—that's what her name is. She's my lover. We've known each other since childhood, long before the world turned to stone. Love is illogical, yet..."

His eyes began to well up with tears, but he blinked them away. "I'm going to bring her back once the Kingdom of Science is stable enough for her," he said, determination in his voice, grinning. "That's the least I can do for her."

"I look forward to meeting her," Ruri said with a warm smile. "You'll love her; I'm a billion percent sure," Senku added quietly.

__________

"Come on, Senku. We're going to see an old friend of mine," Byakuya urged as he tried to coax a young Senku out of his room. "You've been reading all day. My friend has a daughter your age!"

Somehow, Byakuya managed to get Senku out of the house and into his car. They drove off and soon arrived at a large gated mansion, where Senku saw men unloading furniture from trucks.

"Old man, is your friend loaded?" Senku asked, curiosity piqued.

"He's the CEO of a company that makes advanced machines." This caught Senku's interest significantly. Byakuya was let in by the guard at the gates, and he parked the car. As soon as the car was turned off, Senku bolted out.

The little boy ran over to where a man stood, giving orders to the workers carrying out furniture. "Where are the machines?!" Senku exclaimed, excitement bubbling over as Byakuya hurried behind him.

"Sorry, friend. This is Senku, my son," Byakuya said, guiding Senku to stop being rude and properly introduce himself. "This is the little guy I've been talking about. He's a year younger than your daughter, so we should be able to arrange a playdate."

"No way," Senku replied bluntly. "I don't want a stupid playdate. I want to see the machines you make." The red-eyed boy said to the man, who smiled down at him, intrigued.

"He's just as you described, Byakuya," the man chuckled, patting Senku on the head. "My daughter will definitely get along with him. Young man, if you want to see those machines, I’ll make you a deal."

Senku pouted at this. "A playdate with my adorable daughter. I think it would benefit you if he got along with the heir to my company."

"Deal," the green-haired boy said, a bit annoyed, but willing to do anything to see how those machines worked.

"...I don't think you should be encouraging him," Byakuya remarked, sweat dripping down his forehead as he noted Senku's determined expression.

"One playdate, and that's it," the little boy declared, grinning up at the man, who simply smiled back. Senku couldn't help but think how easy this was going to be; soon, he'd have access to the most advanced technology Japan had to offer. With his hands on his hips and a proud grin on his face, he said, "Alright, where's the little brat? I need to meet her."

masterlist taglist- @frootloopscos

if you want to be in the taglist, please comment on the series Masterlist so I can keep track!!

#thelonestarinthesky #dr stone #dr stone senku #dr stone x reader #ishigami senku #senku #senku x reader #senku x y/n #x reader #2/2 i.senku series

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generalsmemories · 2 years ago

Text

The general has escaped... again

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: what's more stressful than managing the internal affairs of luofu you ask? making sure that your husband actually stays in one place when he's ordered to.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, humor, mentions of other characters, spoilers for 1.3 trailblaze mission, spoilers for the end of IL Dan Heng's companion quest

✧ a/n: under one patch update (1.3) this man has managed to run away from bedrest a total of 3 times, as such i'm obligated to write this - behold, the brainrot of the week. once again, jing yuan only appears at the very end, but this whole fic is just how everyone is stressing over how this overgrown cat can escape from right under their noses. not beta-ed as usual fellas.

There's a heavy silence lingering in the air around the Realm keeping commission. For once, the commission has been closed to the public for an hour to discuss internal affairs - is what the citizens of Luofu believes at least.

You don't seem affected by the tense silence, Yanqing notices. He's standing before you, glancing around the other tense officials that's seated by their own desk. The two alchemy commission members present with him seem equally as confused as to why you've summoned them here.

It's only when they hear you place your brush down that they all stand up straight, attention back on you now that you've started to move again.

"I have a favor to ask," you start off, looking at the three people in front of you.

"The general is currently still on bedrest, and the master diviner has temporarily taken his role as the acting general master while he rests, correct?" you ask, to no one in particular.

But it's the newly appointed chief alchemist, Yuluo that answers you, "That is indeed correct."

"However, knowing the general he might start to move the moment he feels some sort of movement come back to his muscles," you point out, having risen from your chair during the (mostly one-sided) conversation to stand before your desk, leaning slightly back towards it with your arms crossed.

"Which is why, I need you all to keep an eye on him," you declare in the end, "The general won't be straying far away from the Exalting Sanctum for reasons you all might know, so I would have to trouble both you and Jinwen to make the trips back and forth from the alchemy commission to assess his conditin from time to time. But Yanqing, you'll mostly have the responsibility to ensure that he doesn't try to do anything else than rest, okay?"

You were already fully aware that you gave the three people before you an impossible task.

And the three people before you was also aware of the fact, but what more could they do but bow their head slightly in confirmation with a resounding, "As you order."

Yanqing is pouting before you, picking at his food before you whilst you merely gaze at him from the other end of the table, "Not hungry? I thought this was your favorite restaurant," you say, in response Yanqing merely levels a glare at you. It doesn't reach his eyes because he has no animosity, you're pretty sure he's just irritated.

"... I tried," he membles after another few minutes of silence. The quiet confession making you chuckle, "I'm aware, I'm surprised you even managed to keep him laying down for so long."

"... I even nailed down a few swords by the covers so it would be harder for him to pull them off," he adds, stabbing a stray tomato with one chopstick to emphazise his point before shoving it in his mouth, "But then he's already dressed and waiting by the door when I went to the toilet to attend the ceremony that was held for the deceased! [Name], he was even waiting for me with a smile!"

Your smile softens upon hearing his complaints, a finger pushing a glass of water towards the boy before you as a silent suggestion for him to drink it, "I already anticipated that he would do that, so why the long face still?"

"Because he refused to go back to rest right after the ceremony ended! And what else can I do, but heed his order with so many people around?" Yanqing huffs, crossing his arms as his food is now forgotten with his irritation overturning his appetite.

"Well he's resting now isn't he? Jinwen is currently staying at the manor to make sure he doesn't step foot outside. The day of the ceremony would've also been one of the last times he could get in contact with our guests from the Astral Express too, I'm sure he wanted to give them that jade abacus himself."

Not to mention the fact he personally went to the shackling prison right after handing it- alone nonetheless.

You omit the part of information from Yanqing. The topic itself still brings a tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan after all.

But before you can placate the small lieutenant any further, you can feel hurried footsteps making their way towards your table. And when you turn your head around to look at the commotion, you find Jinwen panting before you, right behind her one of the Cloud Knights assigned to the manor. And even with a mask on you just know that they're not looking at you.

"[Name]..." Jinwen starts, and you hum whilst fishing up your wallet, "Yes?"

"The general..." she starts, reluctantly looking around, fiddling her thumbs in nervousness. You just hand Yanqing the money before standing up, "He's escaped again, hasn't he?" you confirm, eyebrow raising up in question.

The healer before you merely nods, "I-I'm sorry, I have no idea where he went, I went back to the kitchen to prepare the next dosage of medicine and when I checked again he had suddenly just vanished - the guards didn't even know anything either."

"Even if they knew, they can't really go against their general, can they?" you point out with a laugh, patting the distressed healer on the shoulder before looking over at the Cloud Knight behind Jinwen, "Gather some more Cloud Knights and tell them to meet up at the alchemy commission as soon as possible."

You let out a sigh, rubbing your templates as if that would soothe the headache that's about to form from listening to the Disciples before you yap away whilst getting their hands bound behind their back.

"I want to preface that with the main disaster onboard the Luofu is over, you are aware that we have more personnel at the ready to apprehend you?" you point out, directing your gaze away from the harbor of the alchemy commission where the trailblazer, Dan Heng and Jing Yuan were currently standing to face the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus before you.

Knowing your husband, he's already aware that you're here.

"... And the fact that even after you failed to eliminate Jing Yuan back in september 5 times, and yet still tried again today - and even trying to take two Vidyadhara's along with him? I understand the confidence you had back when the disaster first struck, but now?" you laugh is disbelief. You're aware that it's futile to try to discuss the matter with the Disciples, but everything was worth a shot.

They'll always give the same response after all. Once the general is gone, everything will go more smoothly, once you see the true vision you would agree with them and so on.

It was getting quite tiring.

"Either way, I've contacted the Ten-Lords commission, we will probably have to make a trip to Scalegorge Waterscape to check for any stragglers, but I'm sure the Ten-Lords will have this matter under control..." you mutter, noticing the trailblazer and Dan Heng approach you, "Trailblazer, and mister Dan Heng, have you finished the matters at hand?"

Dan Heng nods, glancing at the tied up Disciples before you, to which you only wave it off, "Yes... And thank you for taking care of the ones over here," he mumbles, giving you a curt nod.

"All in a day's work, do have a safe trip back home though," you voice, "And if you were to ever return to the Luofu for whatever reason, do send me a message. I can at least assure that you'll be somewhat safer than today. I apologize for the inconvenience that these people have caused you," you add on, gesutring towards the Disciples while ignoring the surprise in his eyes.

Dan Heng doesn't say anything, only giving you another nod as a confirmation before walking off.

"Well then, with all that done..." looking back over to the docks, you find Jing Yuan already staring up from his spot at you, giving you a small smile and a small wave of his hand.

"... Of course he's overexhausted himself."

"Do you enjoy making everyone around you worry? I think Jinwen aged a couple of decades with the stunt you pulled today," you start to nag the moment you're within earshot of Jing Yuan - your husband merely chuckling at your exasperated face as you stomp over.

"I apologize, dear. I just had an inkling that something would go awry with their journey. Finding you would've taken longer and Lady Fu Xuan is already busy as the acting general in my absence. So I figured this was the best course of action," he tries to reason, but he can never reason with you when it comes to his wellbeing - no matter how many times he's tried in the past.

So you don't answer him. You only stare at him, close enough for him to see your dissatisfication, but far enough for him to not be able reach you or hold you in his arms.

"... I do admit I'm pretty weary though, I think this is the last time I'll violate the healers' order," he admits in the end with a defeated sigh, raising his arms a bit as a silent request, "Can I request the assistance of my dear spouse in these trying times?" he jests.

However, Jing Yuan is well aware of the fact that you're still very much weak to the few times he does request help.

As with any matter with Jing Yuan that you're inevitably forced to pick up, you can only sigh as you step closer. Weaving your fingers between his own to pull him a bit closer before leaning in to give him a brief peck on the lips.

You then weave your fingers away from his own in favor to wrapping your arms around his waist in a snug embrace, Jing Yuan taking the chance to wrap his own arms around yours before he leans his entire weight on you.

The extra weight makes you let out a grunt of surprise, but Jing Yuan has already buried his face into your neck, letting out a deep exhale into your skin which makes it tingle while his shoulders slump, "... You big lion, you're rivaling Mimi's clinginess at this point," you whisper with a chuckle.

"I haven't seen my dear spouse since they had ordered me to be bedridden, I'm sure you can handle a little clinginess," Jing Yuan mumbles back, kissing the juncture of your neck.

"Yeah, yeah. As an apology for caring about your health, what about we try to get home so that you can properly rest on a bed instead of leaning your entire weight on your dear spouse?"

Jing Yuan hums in appreciation, leaning back to cup your cheek with a smile, "I think that sounds wonderful," he confirms before pressing his lips back on your own.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #x reader #reader insert

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ssa-dado · 7 months ago

Text

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds x reader

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luminique · 4 months ago

Text

Fate, Hollows, Grief and Lighter.

cw // mentions of death, angst, comfort. 4.8k words, not proofread, lighter x gn reader. happy birthday lighter !

You don’t have to be an expert to understand that hollows are confusing. There’s a lot of mystery that goes around them despite the amount of resources that is put into its research. Everyday, it’s some new discovery, some new technology, some new treatment related to them. You told Burnice to switch through the other channels on the mini television at the bar, you didn’t get much of the newer shows in the Outer Ring but you did get the boring news channel.

“Joining us for today’s program is Miss Hoshimi Miyabi from the Hollow Special Operations Section 6. I believe that she needs little to no introduction as your team has been making the rounds online with the most recent case,” a man wearing a black suit, presumably the host, guided the camera over to the thiren next to him with his hand. You’ve seen her before, the proxies that the Sons of Calydon have worked with also mentioned Section 6 as one of their clients. Not everyone can just step into a hollow, even the proxies themselves don’t go in there willingly.

After a moment of silence between the host and Hoshimi Miyabi, the man finally breaks the ice. “Well, we are not here to discuss the controversy; however, there has been a recent discovery regarding the hollows. According to the White Star Institute, your team was able to control Hollow Zero and noticed how time was affected in there. Can you please elaborate on that?” The host was clearly uncomfortable by her quiet demeanor, thinking he’d be interviewing someone who was not as unapproachable as her.

Time, huh? That’s nothing new, even the Tour de Inferno had improved its recording equipment in order to reduce the delay between the inside and outside of the hollow. “Yes, due to its high ether energy, Hollow Zero has the ability to manipulate time, causing us to fight ethereals we had initially already taken down.” The fox thiren finally spoke, her voice was clear and confident, fitting for a chief. The host beamed at her answer, you could see the worry in his eyes when she took a moment to respond to him. “Were there any other anomalies aside from that? The claim coming from the White Star Institute is rather large and I believe that viewers at home would love to hear your experience.”

Lighter notices you staring at the screen intently, it was a rare sight for you to be so engrossed in such a show. He taps the counter a couple of times as he sat on the stool next to you, Burnice immediately understood what that gesture meant. His hand came up to your side, resting it on your hip. “Didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” his smooth voice cut through your train of thought. You barely even noticed him, finally back from a few small fights but barely even a scratch on his face.

“They’re talking about hollows, those proxy friends of yours should know more about it than this old man on the screen.” you pointed the remote at the screen, not changing the channel though. “My deputy chief, Tsukishiro, found herself reliving a moment from her past relating to another member of my team. Asaba said that he was beginning to see the same ethereal over and over again. For me, on the other hand….” a moment of silence from the young lady as her hands gripped on her neat skirt. “I was able to see other possibilities of my past decisions and how they’d affect my current self.” Her usual commanding voice began to sound slightly weak and shaky yet her expression never faltered.

It slowly clicked in your head. This new discovery was not the simple time manipulation that had been publicly known for years, it was instead a lot more complex. A lot scarier, a lot more complicated and even went into the realm of alternate timelines. Was that even possible? Time travel and theories of alternate timelines have been one of humankind’s biggest questions. Would this not have been found out earlier while researching other hollows? Every smaller hollow around Eridu came from the existence of Hollow Zero, what made those any different?

You turn to look at Lighter, his usual laid back demeanor now mirrored yours. He hadn’t even touched his drink once since Miyabi had spoken. “Now look who’s the one staring at the TV,” you teased as you pushed on his shoulder lightly. His sunglasses slipped down his nose bridge, he cleared his throat as he pushed his shades up. “I just thought it was interesting, nothing more,” he pretended to not show how much that information meant to him.

If you could do it all over again, would you? The opportunity was presented right at him, albeit from a boring show on the TV. Rarely was it ever on this channel, as Burnice would normally choose to have it on some sort of sports or music channel. However, she’d listen to her customer in front of her and on this early evening, it was only you sitting there.

The thought was intriguing, he did have a higher ether aptitude than most. Venturing into hollows alone, with a carrot, wasn’t anything new to him, especially not after the passing of his fallen comrades. He doesn’t know exactly where they were last but he’d often bring flowers to where he found their dog tags, at least he knew they were there at one point. He knew that time worked differently inside the hollows, communication becoming an issue inside and outside of it, but he didn’t know anything more than that was capable.

No, no. He can’t just go into Hollow Zero and come out unscathed like it’s a normal fight. He could live his whole life not knowing what would’ve happened if he had chosen to go with them but the knowledge that he can, at least, see its possibility… that was eating at him. After you had teased him, the idea was still there. Who wouldn’t want to know what happened during that one moment in their life? Who wouldn’t want to know the answer to ‘what if’ and ‘if only’? He shook his head, trying to get rid of the curiosity building up in him.

Cold glass, the refreshing drink that he had gotten accustomed to since joining the Sons of Calydon now tasted bitter. No lollipop in his pocket to distract him from his thoughts. Another harsh swallow, he placed the glass back on the counter. “Do you want another glass? Maybe some Nitro-Fuel instead?” Burnice’s cheerful self was always ready to fill a glass up despite knowing that he doesn’t prefer the taste of Nitro-Fuel on its own. Now though, it sounded just perfect to make him forget this information.

Night time came, the howling winds kept Lighter awake. Usually he would have passed out already from the amount of Nitro-Fuel he drank but for some odd reason, he couldn’t now. It wasn’t odd at all, he knew why he was awake. Haunted by the memories of a not-so-distant past, the voices of his comrades rang in his ears as he got up from his bed. His bright red scarf that contrasted his usual outfit, was now stuffed deeply into his jacket. The soft clinging of the dog tags were now muffled by his scarf, his heavy footsteps making his way out to his bike. The only way to forget is to completely kill a man, erase his memories and the possibilities that he can come up with.

With his past as mercenary leader, getting to Hollow Zero wasn’t a mystery. Many have gone there in hopes of getting rich, finding some sort of ethereal matter, or maybe searching for whatever was left of the person they once were. Dodging a few military bases, back roads and, going through smaller hollows, Lighter found himself right at the edge of Hollow Zero. There were a few close calls on his way here, but nothing a Carrot can’t solve. The convenience of modern technology, able to find the safest route out and predict any new changes in the course of being in the Hollow. If only they could predict the possibility of his friends passing that day.

He parked his bike, brought the little bangboo off his bike and took a deep breath. “Lighter…” He heard the faint whispers of his name as he stepped into the pitch black sphere, the voices sounded oddly familiar to him. An older breathier male voice, a deeper younger male voice, and a reassuring female voice all coming together to call for his name. No, he can’t be hearing things. He was still young and had just entered the hollow. Signs of corruption did not include hallucinations, nor did it include any sort of hearing problems. He ventured deeper into the hollow, bangboo by his side to make sure he’d make his way out.

Ethereals came at him but they were no match, one after another. A swift punch before landing his finishing blows on them, he dusted off the little bits of burnt etheric matter off his shoulders. “Lighter! There you are!” He immediately prepared himself for another fight, quickly looking around for the source of that voice. No ethereal was in sight however, maybe it was paranoia striking him once more. He decided to take a break somewhere off to the side, taking a serum to reduce ether corruption. He closed his eyes, the rubble of the Fallen Eridu surrounding him as he was taken back to his days of a mercenary leader.

He remembers it like it was just yesterday. The smiles on their face, the laughter, the drinks, the bets, everything that your typical mercenary group does. They were his comrades, his friends, his family at the time. He was still new to leading a team, choosing to go for the higher paying jobs in the hollows rather than outside work. He’d come back with a few bruises here and there, getting patched up while trying to split up the money they received. The hands of Dane scruffing Lighter’s hair, or Nick reminding him to stop smoking, or Ratena drinking another pint of Nitro-Fuel with him. He could see and feel those memories so vividly…

“We’ll be heading out now, Boss.” Dane gave a hearty pat on Lighter’s shoulder, a firm goodbye grip to tell him to rest. Lighter chuckled as Dane finally let go,“It still sounds weird…” he added on, believing that such a title isn’t fit for him just yet. “Ratena, you got the med kit ready?” He asked the tomboy-looking female who was always prepared when it came to injuries. Even his now fractured arm was taken care of by her, proving her deep knowledge in the field of first aid. She nodded towards him with a small wave of her supplies in hand, “All ready, Lighter!” Nick gave a weary smile, one that was oddly energetic for a much older man than everyone else in the group.

“Take care, everyone. Remember what we’re going in there for, retrieve the item and receive our cash,” everyone looked towards their leader, Lighter giving them one last reminder before they headed off. All of their dog tags hung around their necks, reflecting the bright sunlight and Lighter’s own reflection. “Be back safely!” Dane’s little sister began waving goodbye as they watched the team head off straight into the hollow. Lighter knew of the dangers that they could face while in there, especially with the lack of a Carrot. Those don’t go for cheap however, good and reliable info about hollows aren’t easy to come by at low prices.

That final goodbye would serve to be his biggest regret in life. A wound that can never be healed no matter the amount of times he went back to the last place he found their tags. He had called out for them and yet no response, shouting into an endless void. What would’ve happened if he had followed them that day, not heeding their advice and sacrificing himself alongside them. Non-existent answers to a question that has ruined a young man of his own mental freedom.

Boss… Kiddo…. Lighter….

Was he going insane again? He opened his eyes, expecting to see nothing just like before but this time, he was outside of his old mercenary camp. A distant woof could be heard as an eager dog ran right up to him, pouncing onto him. ‘What? This… this isn’t right…’ Lighter thought to himself. Was this some sort of deja vu? A dream of some sort? The dog licks Lighter’s face, excitedly panting and sniffing him. This felt a little too real for him, running his hand through its soft fur.

“Lighter! We got another commission today. Gotta go into this hollow, grab this ‘mysterious item’ and they’re paying us big time,” Dane came up behind him and petted the dog, throwing a small ball to allow Lighter to get up. Lighter turned around, seeing the large man with his familiar beanie towering over him. He fell back, not believing what he was seeing. Was he dead? They do say that the brain replays the best moments of one’s life before death, but this seemed less like a memory and more like reality.

This was just the day before their deaths, was this his second chance? “I was able to see other possibilities of my past decisions and how they’d affect my current self,” the fox thiren’s experience now making sense as he looked up at his should-be-dead companion. “U-uh yeah. Dane, sorry but I don’t think we should accept this mission,” Lighter grabbed Dane’s hand, his fractured one still healing in its cast. Dane blinked at his teal-haired leader in confusion, not expecting him to decline such an offer. They walked back into the home, Ratena and Nick coming up to them with big smiles on their faces.

As Ratena tended to Lighter’s fractured arm, they all discussed their plan regarding the new mission. “They said it’s just a box, bring it back safely and then we’ll get paid,” Dane said with lots of enthusiasm, playing around with his little sister. Nick gave a hearty chuckle, petting the dog as he spoke, “It’s not easy, my boy. Look at what happened to Lighter the last time we went into a hollow.” Both men looked over to Lighter, seeing the effects of an ethereal attack and Nick being physically unfit to keep up with the rest of the group. Before Ratena could give her input, Lighter interjected with the knowledge of their future. “I really don’t think we should go. Hollows are dangerous and just like Nick said, ethereals are no joke.” Lighter hoped they would understand him without him needing to explain to them why they shouldn’t go.

Ratena shook her head, “Oh c’mon Lighter, you don’t trust us? We got out safely last time and we made big bucks.” Safely? Was having a fractured arm considered safe? Was bleeding out his side considered safe? “Guys, you can’t be serious.” Lighter was in disbelief, he remembered his initial response in his past. He had agreed wholeheartedly to the offer, thinking that such a huge sum of cash was what they all needed to live better lives. Now with his knowledge, he didn’t want to lose them. Not again, he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

“Yeah boss, we know how hard you’re working. You gotta rest up and we’re more than capable of taking down those ethereals.” Dane gave him a wolfish grin, clearly oblivious to why Lighter was so against all of this in the first place. “We’ll leave in the morning, be back by sunset.” Nick had the whole plan laid out on the table, trying his best to reassure their worried leader. Everyone went to their sleeping quarters that night but Lighter couldn’t sleep at all knowing what would happen to them. He laid awake in his cold bed that his body used to find solace in, but now reminded him of the hard shell of a coffin.

Sunlight came streaming through the windows, Lighter was the first to get up, the rest unknown to his lack of sleep. Everything replayed exactly as it did on that fateful day; Dane placing his hand on Lighter’s shoulder, Ratena waving her first aid kit in the air, Nick’s energetic smile that highlighted his wrinkles. He can’t relive this, he can’t let this happen. “W-wait!” They all turned back to him, stopping right in their tracks. Lighter had already told them to take care, what else was there to be said? ‘Don’t die’? ‘Don’t go’? ‘You’ll all die and I won’t be able to find you’? He had recurring nightmares of this exact moment multiple times before this and yet, the words were stuck in his throat. “I’ll miss all of you.” Lighter couldn’t stop them, even if he tried. Fate is cruel in that way, never is it a choice, unable to be changed. As he watched them leave again, tears began to prick his olive eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to blink away those tears but also look away from his regrettable decision.

The sandpaper-like wet and warm muscle went up Lighter’s cheek again. He blinked open his eyes, seeing the familiar sight of yesterday. Was this some sort of hell? A never-ending cycle of living his lifelong burden he carried with him. As expected, Dane’s voice could be heard once more, grabbing Lighter up from the ground and bringing him back into the camp. As expected, they had planned to take up the offer because money is money and they were mercenaries first and foremost.

He was determined this time. If he couldn’t stop them from going, at the very least he had to make sure to go with them. Ever since that day, he had been yearning for death. If Fate won’t change his friends’ passing, maybe it will be kind enough to change his. “I’ll go along,” Lighter’s confident voice cut through their chatter. “But boss, you’re being stretched thin.” “Your condition still isn’t fit for a mission in a hollow.” “Take it from an old man, you deserve the rest, son.” All of them gave their own concerns to Lighter’s suggestion–arguably, it sounded closer to an order rather than a suggestion–but he didn’t want to listen to them. He was adamant, also having his own power as their leader to push himself into this plan. He was willing to do anything, not caring about his injuries. With little to no luck, they accepted his persistence, each slowly heading off to bed to prepare for the early morning.

He had dreamt of this possibility for days, maybe even months. His body was definitely not in the best shape but if he could spend just a few more minutes with his comrades, his limbs could be torn off by an ethereal and he’d still smile through it all. It all played out exactly as his memories, this time he was joining them. As they walked together towards the hollow, Lighter began to feel dizzy. His vision slowly blurred, however his companions continued to walk forward.

“Dane! Nick! Ratena!” Lighter called out to them, yet they didn’t turn around, not even taking a moment to stop. “No, no, no no no no NO-” He tried running towards them but the distance just kept getting further and further. Running infinitely, trying to catch up to them but with his poor condition and slowly darkening eyesight, he couldn’t continue anymore. He came to a stop, looking down to his feet and seeing something shine in the dust. As he bent down, his eyes widened in surprise. It was their dog tags; Dane, Nick, and Ratenna, but there was one more with its name turned over. Lighter Lorenz. His name. How was that possible? His hand immediately went to his neck, searching for his tag that always hung around there. It wasn’t there. That was his dog tag, on the ground, with the rest of his mercenary companions.

He fell to his knees, understanding the possible outcome of this decision he could’ve made back then. Who would have found these if it weren’t him? Who would carry on their stories if he had gone along with them? What does that mean for his current present self? Questions bounced around in his head, holding those dog tags close to his chest. Tears began to trickle down his face once more, sadness being a common emotion at the end of all of these possibilities.

As he blinked away those tears, his surroundings had also changed. His bangboo would’ve notified him if he walked into a fissure so there was no way that he did. The setting sun of the Outer Ring burned his pupils, a scenery that he has become more than accustomed to since joining the Sons of Calydon. He hadn’t made any regretful decisions since joining, so there has got to be a reason that he’s experiencing this random day again.

He heard footsteps coming up behind him, followed by the sounds of feminine laughter. Despite being called the Sons of Calydon, it was a biker gang filled with mainly women. Currently, he is their champion, always winning and never turning down a challenge. They all stood side by side next to him, joking and teasing around with each other. “Caesar! Did you use my makeup again?” Lucy was trying her best to pull the tall green-grey haired woman down to her height. Piper barely kept her eyes open while Burnice was drinking another pint of Nitro-Fuel down as they all watched the sunset together.

“I can always buy you more makeup, Lucy.” Lighter offered, his used to be young voice was now a lot deeper. None of them replied to him though; Caesar and Lucy still argued with each other, Piper was trying her best to stand up straight, Burnice started playing her songs. Was he being intentionally ignored? He remembers this moment, him heading out to Lumina Square and there he met you. His life had fully turned around when he joined the Sons of Calydon, understanding what it meant to be a Champion. Not just theirs, but yours as well. He had people he wanted to protect, disasters he wanted to prevent.

Fate played its tricks on him once more. He had his ‘second chance’, choosing to die alongside his comrades and now he had to ‘live’ as a ghost. Lighter was slowly trying to figure out how Hollow Zero was affecting his memories and ‘fate’. None of this was real–he knew that at least–but he had to admit that it felt real. Would he be satisfied with death? Would he be satisfied with his story not having a proper ending? His movie could be hours long, but after 30 minutes, there would be an abrupt black screen.

‘The aim of all life is death. Only there can we find true peace.’

This wasn’t the peace that he wanted. He craved closure, real end credits to his tragic documentary. If the aim is death, then he’ll live until he’s tired of it. Until his face becomes sore from smiling with you, until his taste buds turn numb with the lingering after notes of Nitro-Fuel, until his eyesight becomes hazy from the bright lights of the city, until his ears start ringing because of everyone’s laughter.

He yearned for death, believing that regret was all he could carry in his heart. Love and companionship changes a person, losing it turns them into a monster. He knows how it feels to have survivor’s guilt, he now knows how it feels to have so much love left to give but ultimately ripped away from him. Care, love, remorse, regret, they all went hand in hand when it came to Lighter, he can’t have one without the other. Tough decisions, bad mistakes but they all ultimately led him to where he was now.

He felt the Outer Ring’s breeze brush his face, a soft and gentle reminder of his new home and his new family.

Lighter opened his eyes once more, a small LED screen with crying eyes were barely inches away from his face. His hand went up to give the little bangboo a pat on the head, making it immediately spring back to life. “Hey, little guy. You think you can get us out of here?” Lighter asked as he slowly pushed himself up, seeing a few ethereals around. The bangboo began running through the hollow, following its Carrot to find the nearest exit out of Hollow Zero.

A couple of punches before swiftly sliding away. His top priority was to get out safely, not to fight every ethereal in his path. This ever changing maze proved to be difficult to navigate, the poor bangboo constantly finding a new route. After winding through the ruins of Old Eridu, they finally made it out of Hollow Zero. Further away from where they initially entered, however nothing too far to walk to. The sun was beginning to rise now, painting the sky in light gold hues. As he drove back to Blazewood, he took in the early morning sights of the Outer Ring. After living in the shadows for so long, he remembers his first purchase since being saved by Big Daddy. He used a little bit of the money to purchase his first and only pair of sunglasses. In order to help him acclimatize to bright life above those fighting rings while helping him with his hemophobia and eye injury, he thought that the shades would be a good start to his new chapter. Everything was a change of pace, including these.

“Lighter! There you are!” He immediately froze up. Those were the same words he heard in the Hollow. Was he still in there? He got off his bike and turned around slowly, preparing himself to see nothing again. “Where were you? I was worried sick last night when I went over to your room and you didn’t respond.” Your concerned voice put him at ease as he looked at you. “Uh um… my bad. Just… wanted to go for a late night drive,” his voice was shaky, hoping you wouldn’t see through his lie. Your brows furrowed as you looked him up and down, he felt as though he should just die because of your intense gaze. “Without me?? Next time I go to Lumina Square, I am not buying you the super pack of lollipops,” you teased him. He let out the biggest sigh of relief, for once not worrying about whether he’d get his favorite grape-flavored lollipop.

He removed his glove off of his hand and brought it up the side of your face. Your soft skin under his calloused hands, this felt like his true reality. He could see the way you scrunched up your nose, your eyebrows raised as he began caressing your cheek. “I missed you,” he whispered out, just loud enough for you to hear. It was still early in the morning, not as many people out just yet so he could allow himself this vulnerability for just a moment. Especially after realizing the possibility of never seeing you again, never seeing the girls again, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to go just yet. “What are you saying? Did you hit your head on a cactus?” Your hand went up to his, cupping it against your face as you nuzzled into him. He couldn’t give this up, never in his wildest dreams could he imagine a decision better than what he made back then.

“I just thought I should tell you. I lo-“ just as he was about to finish his words, Piper comes up in Steeltusk, parking the truck right next to the both of you. “You youngsters are so energetic these days…” She commented as she filled up the truck with some fuel, chuckling to herself. Both of you turned a little red, Lighter especially. Everyone knew of your relationship and yet it was still a little embarrassing to be so outwardly in love with each other. Lighter cleared his throat, thinking that Piper was still the same as she was in his memories. The rest of the girls were probably still asleep but this was all he needed to confirm that he was indeed out of that damned hollow.

With your hand in his, he knew what was waiting for him at the end of his life. The Sons of Calydon that he sworn to always win for, his mercenary comrades that haunts him every night, the friends he had made through the Tour de Inferno, and his love that was willing to be with him through it all. Fate is unfair, humans do not have the power to change what has already been decided. However, being human means having the power to live your life to its fullest, accepting what fate has in store and learning from it. Lighter will carry his regrets and burdens with him, over into the afterlife and even when all he becomes is a humble cactus to poke you.

#lumiwrites ˚✧₊⁎☆#lighter zzz #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter #lighter zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero lighter #lighter angst #lighter comfort #lighter x reader #lighter x gn reader #zenlezz zone zero #zenless zone zero fics #my longest post to date #quite proud of this #but still believing that i could have done this better #happy birthday lighter #lighter x you #he deserves a big hug actually #sobbing crying i hope yall like this

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saturneras · 1 month ago

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Private Eyes III

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: There is a mutual understanding between Joel Miller and yourself that both of you will probably never mention again what was said when you were getting in his truck a few nights ago. He has been curt and professional at the station and so have you. He has made up his mind and so have you. So Tommy Miller's Fourth of July BBQ shouldn't be an issue, right? The lines have been clearly drawn and you're definitely not reckless enough to cross them - but is he?

Note: Just giving the people what they want.

Part 1 , Part 2

Silence. Seventeen minutes of nothing, but utter silence. That was what happened between the chief of police and you when he drove you home that night from the bar. He did not say a word to you the whole time as if he had been frightened by his own conviction. When he had stopped the truck in front of your parent's house and opened the car door for you, he didn't even glance at you. No eye contact whatsoever. You figured he was pissed that maybe he had let himself get carried away. Let you rile him up and loose a fraction of his stoic control. You knew he didn't like you very much and that you were making his job way harder than it needed to be. But being a pain in the ass was just too enjoyable to give it up anytime soon. You figured Joel Miller was the type of guy who wasn't usually confronted with someone questioning his decisions or ignoring his orders. You like to give a man a hard time as much as the next girl does. The duty to be as resistant as possible was something you took very seriously. So when he invited you to the Miller's Fourth of July BBQ, you couldn't help but feel a little taken aback. Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. He invited the whole station, not you specifically. So maybe you had been the necessary evil?

"Quit acting like a troubled main-character and get the beer, will ya?" Your brother shouts from the hallway. "I told Tommy we would be there in 10."

You roll your eyes. "I was thinking, Casey. Maybe you should try it some time."

Your brother laughs and pushes his way through the front door. "And grab your bathing suit, Tommy said the pool is open for business."

"Will do," you shout, throw your bag over your shoulder and grab the two sixers standing on the counter.

You rush out and jump in the car. The sun has been beating down all day and humidity is at an all time high. The air feels thick and heavy, resting on your skin like a layer of sand. Casey is rambling on about his last baseball game and how this one kid always makes sure to get on his last nerve. He teaches little league on Sundays and hasn't won a game in weeks. It's driving him nuts, but he loves it.

"Listen," he starts and turns down the Eagles' song that's playing on the radio. "Can you at least try to be nice to Joel today?"

Your head whips to your side. "Sorry?"

Casey clears his throat. "You know, just make some normal conversation or tell him you like his shirt or whatever."

"For what?" You ask, confused.

"It just seems like you don't get along."

"And why would you think that?"

"Well," Casey mumbles. "He never answers when we ask him how ya'll are getting on and Tommy has been saying he's been a little on edge ever since you started working there."

"And you always look at each other like you're two seconds away from throwing punches," he adds. "Maybe he thinks you don't like him."

"Why would he think that?" You say. "I have been perfectly professional." Images of his eyes dragging over your face flash in your mind. His lips parted slightly, his smell making his way up your nose, unnervingly intoxicating. "Maybe he just needs to cool the control freak energy a little."

"You know how you get," he says. "He needs a little time to warm up. Help him out a little."

"He's a grown man, Casey," you reply. "He is able to communicate if he has a problem. And if he is not, maybe he shouldn't be the chief of police."

Casey lifts is hand and points at you. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, dude. Just be nice and not like.. this."

"Sure, brother," you say and grin. "I'll be nice and agreeable and won't embarrass you in front of your friends."

He rolls his eyes just as you pull up in front of a house. You both get out and your brother gets some grocery bags from the backseat. The front of the house is white, but the window panes are painted in a lovely washed out brown and the door is a deep dark wood that reminds you of trusting dark eyes. The front lawn is perfectly trimmed and there is an outdoor sofa on the porch that looks like the perfect place for a morning coffee. Everything looks extremely well taken care of. Music is resounding from the backyard.

"Tommy's house is beautiful," you remark and glance at your brother.

He laughs. "At least now you have something to compliment him on."

"As if that has been an issue with him before."

"I ain't talking about the youngster," Casey grins. "It's Joel's house."

You turn your head abruptly. "What?"

"Tommy is redoing his garden this year, so Joel offered to do the party at his place. They even got his pool all cleaned up and running, since he never uses it," Casey explains and walks up the driveway. "Tommy told me to just come 'round the back."

You follow your brother up the path and both of you turn around the corner, heading for the backyard. Tommy is the first one you spot, standing by the grill in swimming trunks with a bottle in his hand, talking to some friends you recognise from other gatherings. The party is in full bloom, people lounging on chairs, the grass and in the pool, laughing, drinking.

"Hey bud," Casey calls. "Where do you want this?"

Tommy points to the far side of the garden, where tables have been brought out. You walk over and put the beers on the wooden tables, taking in your surroundings. The backyard is a huge open space, with a terracotta pathway that leads to the crystal clear pool and a fire pit with chairs around it a couple of steps to the back. Hedges and huge hydrangeas line the outer edges of the grass and pots of tomatoes, herbs and other flowers are scattered around in various places. Jesus Christ. The cold hearted chief has a green thumb. There are some chairs and tables set up for eating and coolers filled with drinks.

Casey carries the rest of the bags inside the house and a couple moments later walks out in his trunks. "If I don't get into that pool right now I might melt from this heat."

A couple of the others laugh and most of them follow his lead to the swimming pool as Tommy walks over to you.

"Hey," he says. "I'm happy you could come!"

You smile. "Thanks for having me, this all looks amazing."

"Well," he says. "I do tend to pride myself on my abilities as a host."

"So I've heard."

"Might I suggest a dip in the pool before your brother decides to race everyone here," he jokes and points to the backdoor of the house. "If you want to change, just use the guest room."

"Thanks." You start to make your way toward the house before you realise you have never been here before. "Where is the guest room?"

Tommy turns. "Oh, right, up the stairs and to your left."

You nod and step inside the house. With all the sun outside, your eyes need a couple seconds to adjust to the low lighting in the kitchen. Making your way up the stairs, you look at the pictures hanging on the wall. You recognise Tommy and the chief, as well as other family members out on a beach, on fishing trips and in front of Christmas trees. A family man. Who would have thought?

In the guest room, you quickly undress and change into your bikini. Thankful to be stripping of your already sweaty summer dress, you stuff the clothes into your bag and make your way back to the hallway. Did Tommy say there was a bathroom up here? You don't remember, but take a right and make your way down the hallway. The first door on the right just leads to the utility closet, but the second one opens up to a bathroom. It is even warmer in here and the mirror you spot to the left is still a little foggy. Someone from the party probably showered before the pool.

You take a step inside and are about to close the door behind you, when a gasped "Fuck" resounds from your right and you quickly turn toward it, only to find yourself slipping on a little puddle of water. You have already accepted your fate of falling straight on your ass and are wondering why on earth you keep getting in these situations and if you should consider doing more squats, when a hand grabs your arm and yanks you back. You've seen that hand before. It has held a closet over your head, helped you into a truck and was splayed out on the back of the wall, right next to your head in the hallway of the bar. But the hand cannot stop the force of your fall, so your body pulls it back and as you're about to crash against the door, you feel your body being turned and slam into ... oh god.

Your eyes travel up from the throat to the face. His brows are furrowed. A stern expression on his face and you almost have to turn away from the piercing gaze of his eyes. He looks angry, leaning against the door, his body having shielded yours from the impact, only for it to be smashed into his and held in place by both his arms wrapped around you. Time doesn't exist for a solid minute, while you're both just staring at each other. The warmth of his arms against your exposed skin feels tauntingly familiar. You quickly suppress the urge to lean into him any further, to pressure the weight of your hips forward.

His palm is splayed out on your lower back and you can't help but feel the tip of his fingers dig in a little lower than they probably should. Your lips part in reflex and you think you must imagine the way his eyes soften for a second, holding on to your mouth. Your eyes trail down the hollow of his neck and find themselves on your hands, playing directly on his very broad and very naked chest. There is no way this is happening right now.

"Oh god, no," you say and shake your head.

"I don't think Jesus is gonna help you with this one, Darlin'," Joel Miller drawls. His voice is nothing more than a growl as he speaks to you.

His skin is hot and damp from showering, smelling like eucalyptus and a hint lemony. You feel the drops of water caught on his chest under your hands. This should definitely not be happening.

"I think you should move," he suggests.

"Is this the part where you tell me to 'get on my knees and crawl' or does that just happen at work?" Sometimes you wish your mind would take a second to rethink the things coming out of your mouth.

He grunts and in one quick motion, he bends his knees, lifts you up and pushes both of you off the door. You expect him to drop you immediately, but he takes two steps toward the sinks. Before you can even comprehend the feel of his hands on the back of your legs, he places you on top of the vanity.

The chief of police is standing right between your legs, wearing.. a towel wrapped around his hips. If you were wearing pearls, you probably would be clutching them now.

Just now, when he is standing fully before you are you able to take in the sight of him. His hair is a little ruffled and still dripping. He hasn't shaved and looks like he's about to say something, but stops himself in his tracks. As if he is now just realising who he has in front of him, his eyes run over your body, tentatively, widening by the second. Oh right, it's not that he is just wearing a towel - you are wearing a bikini. And not even one that covers more than what's basically decent. Christ.

You must have said that out loud, because his eyes immediately snap back up to yours, looking the slightest bit guilty.

"What are you doing here?" He snaps.

"I was trying to find a bathroom," you say and point to the room around you. "Success."

"Why did you come in here?"

"As I said, I was trying to find a bathroom," you repeat.

"Maybe you should have knocked before barging in here," he suggest.

"Maybe you should lock the goddamn door when you take a shower," you snap.

He lowers his head a bit. "This is my goddamn house and I wi-."

"Joel?" Tommy's voice resounds from the hallway. His steps are getting closer.

Joel's eyes widen and he shoots you a glare promising death upon disobedience. When you're about to say something, he lifts his hand and covers your mouth. The motion makes you both hold still. His eyes dart from yours to his palm on your lips and back. He exhales slowly. Without you noticing, he has moved closer to the sink, his body now almost aligned with yours. The pressure of his palm is firm but soft, his fingers warm and his thumb hooked under your chin slightly moving over your skin.

"Are you in here?" Tommy calls.

Joel snaps back into motion and turns his head toward the door. "I'll be out in a sec."

"Oh okay," Tommy says behind the door. "Can you maybe get a couple more towels when you get down?"

"Sure," Joel's voice comes out a little harsh, but you both hear Tommy's steps fading.

His hand is still resting on your mouth, when he turns his head back toward you. As if burned, he immediately pulls it away.

"Are you keeping me a secret, Mr. Miller?" You say and grin.

"That is not funny," he says. "I wouldn't even know how to explain that to Tommy."

"Do you trust him that little?"

"People jump to conclusions," he says.

"I've never cared about where other people jump," you say.

Joel's mouth twitches slightly. "I thought so."

You shrug. "People slip and get into accidents all the time. No big deal."

"So you regularly have these interactions with your superiors?" Joel asks mockingly.

"Will it make you happy if I tell you that you're the first, Mr. Miller?"

"Watch it, sweetheart," he growls. "I ain't up for that shit in my house."

He takes a quick glance down your body as if reminding himself of something and steps away from you. "And don't call me Mr. Miller when you're sitting on my bathroom sink barely dressed."

"If you prefer Chief, just say so." You put your palms on the counter and push yourself off, sliding down, until your feet hit the cold tile. "And the last time I checked, this was a pool party, so I will remind you that my attire is perfectly reasonable."

"If you think that thing is reasonable then you gotta watch a lot more than just your tone," he rumbles and crosses his arms. His chest flexes slightly and the image of him in his towel will probably be ingrained in your mind until you take your last breath.

"So you keep telling me," you say.

"Maybe you should start to listen," he replies.

"Maybe you should put on some pants before we're having that argument again," you suggest and mirror his movement, crossing your arms. "You know, to keep things professional."

"Maybe you should do the same," he retorts.

"What?" You say, looking down at your bikini. "You don't like red?"

He averts his eyes. "I really need you to put on your clothes."

You grab your bag. "This might be your house, Miller, but I'm not following orders on a holiday."

"Put on your goddamn clothes," he repeats in a threateningly low voice.

"No." You shake your head curtly. "And you can't make me."

His eyes lower themselves to yours and his mouth morphs into a wicked grin. "You'd be surprised at what I can make you do."

"Probably not." You shoot him the same grin back, make your way to the door and grab the handle. The door opens with a click and you catch his glance. "But I sure do like to see you try."

--------- 1 hour later ---------

Tommy has been busy at the grill, bringing out steaks and veggies to everyone. You're sitting at a table with Tommy's friends Dan and Ray as well as Casey and his friend Marie. Ray is big on musicals, so you're all still talking about the Wicked, when Joel steps out the backdoor of the house. His hair is dry and a little puffy. He is wearing a dark green button down, which seems way too warm for this kind of weather. His gaze rakes across the garden and surely directly lands on you. Without hesitation he begins to walk across the grass toward your table. He looks full of conviction. Let's see how long that will hold up.

"I told you it was Oscar worthy," Ray says to Casey, "She trained years to sing this way. Glinda has always been her dream role."

"Sure, sure," Casey agrees. "I just think she wouldn't have been as good without Cynthia. She basically carried the movie."

Until the last possible moment, you think Joel might walk past, but he takes a halt at the table, looks around it and pulls the empty chair, right next to yours to sit down. You look up at him, but he's watching Casey and Ray continue talking. His proximity makes you uneasy - as if you hadn't just had your hands on his chest moments ago. You can't get it out of your head. The way his body felt pressed to yours, the grip of his arms around your hips. You wish you had never felt it in the first place. Right?

"What do you think, Joel?" Ray turns to him and watches him expectantly.

"'bout what?" He asks.

"Do you think Ariana should have gotten the Oscar for her Glinda?" Ray explains and you frown at Joel. As if he had actually seen the movie.

"Don't know 'bout her," Joel shrugs. "But the green one definitely should have gotten one."

"Elphaba," Casey corrects and adds: "That's what I've been saying this whole time."

"You've seen Wicked?" You look at Joel in surprise.

He doesn't turn toward you, but Ray nods. "Oh yes, we do a movie night every first Friday of the month, when Joel doesn't have the night shift."

You can't help but grin, imagining Joel at the movies watching Wicked with a sobbing group of friends and your brother, who has always been easy to bring to tears ever since he was a kid.

"We love musicals," Ray says. "But my personal favourite is definitely Cabaret."

"What's your favourite?" You tease and finally Joel turns his head and lays his molten eyes on you.

He stills for a moment and then says: "The Sound of Music."

"Really?" You say.

He shrugs and without any hesitation, as if it were the most normal thing to do, lifts his arm and drapes it on the top of your chair, directly behind your back. "Maybe I just like women with an attitude and hate Nazis."

There's a rattle in your chest that makes you lean back a little into him. As if a skittish bird had just awaken from a clap in the distance. His arm at your back feels like a thousand matches scraping against a matchbox.

"Don't we all?" Ray claps his hands and gets into a conversation with the rest of the table about their plans for the rest of summer. Casey's eyes flick to Joel for a split second and his eyebrows narrow almost unnoticeable, but he just turns back to Ray.

"By the way," Dan says. "The garden looks lovely, Joel."

"Thanks," he says, a little hint of red appearing at the base of his neck. "I'm glad you like it."

He leans back into his chair and observes the conversation.

"The city has agreed to everything you suggested in your report," Joel suddenly mumbles and turns to you.

"I know," You nod. "Daniel told me."

"You know he didn't give you any credit, right?"

"Oh I knew that," you say. "I didn't do it because I wanted to get credit for it."

Joel's frown deepens. "Why did you do it then?"

You lower your eyes. "Because he said it was important to you."

Joel's head reels back slightly as if you had just said something offensive. He huffs out a breath and clears his throat.

After a few seconds of silence, he says: "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" You ask, meeting his gaze.

"Convince them," he says. "I've been trying to get them to sign off on these things for weeks."

"Well, it's sort of what I went to school for."

He shakes his head. "I've met a lot of lawyers and I don't think you can learn that shit in school."

"It's just about finding out what they need," you explain.

"Need? Like motivation?"

"No," you say. "It's not about what drives them. Ambition is too obvious and most people can easily see if you are just trying to appeal to that. It's more about what they desire when no one is watching."

"So like lust?" He mumbles only for you to hear. His eyes lazily graze over your mouth.

You shake your head slightly. "Not everything is about sexual desire. Most people don't actually care as much about that as one would think. It's much more about a specific feeling they crave that comes with receiving something you hadn't realised you needed in the first place."

"And how do you find out what that is?" His eyes are still stuck to your now parted lips. Dark. Waiting. Expecting.

"You look very closely and wait," you say. "People are too impatient. They don't see what's directly in front of them."

Joel furrows his brows but stays silent.

"You know like their incentive. That could be power, attention, acceptance?"

"Go on," he says.

"You create this idea in them that the thing you want them to do is actually going to satisfy that need. Almost as if you're not actually convincing them at all, they're doing it for you."

A slight breeze catches his hair and unlocks a strand that dances on his forehead.

"Everyone wants to do the right thing," you say. "You just need to assure them what the right thing actually ist."

"Do me," Joel mumbles, his voice is low.

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Sorry?"

"How would you manipulate me?" He asks, a glint of mocking in the corner of his eyes. "Or is my soul of stone to hard to read?"

"I've watched you, Mr. Miller," you say. "And a lack of emotion is not something you suffer from."

"You've been watching me?" The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Of course I have," you say. "It's my job to shadow you, is it not?"

You lean back and the hem of your dress slowly falls back, revealing a glimpse of your upper thigh. Joel's jaw ticks, as he takes in your bare skin. His fingers on your chair twitch and softly touch the back of your shoulder just to immediately clench into a fist.

"And what have you found out?"

"That you're no exception," you say. "You also just want to do the right thing. Like a good chief of police."

"And the right thing is doing what you want?"

"It's not about what I want," you say.

"What is it then?" He asks and leans in.

"Huh?" You reply and catch yourself raising your chin to meet his face. The conversation at the table has completely drowned out. You hear nothing but the sound of his breath on your face and feel only his arm pressing against your back. You wonder what it feels to be touched by him with intent, not just by accident. Would he move differently? Or do his hands find their way just as easily?

"What is it that you want?" Joel drawls.

"Are you trying to manipulate me?" You asks, wearily.

"I'm trying to understand you," He says.

"For what?"

"So I can figure out why your mouth seems to never match the story your eyes are telling."

And it's in that moment you realise that the chief of police might be capable of more than what you thought you'd bargained for.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedrohub #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x female reader #fanfiction

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